#GUESS WHO DREW ON ONE LAYER!! it was me . a Fool

[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

Lestat and Louis + Kisses

The vibration went through my temples. A layer of skin was being peeled off. I clasped Louis's arm, gave him a lingering kiss, and then felt him release me. - The Vampire Lestat

The Vampire Lestat and his cohorts stood spying upon the hall through the holes in a great serge curtain. Lestat embraced his companion Louis, and they kissed on the mouth, as the mortal musicians put their arms around both of them. - The Queen of the Damned

I smiled. I kissed him suddenly, thrilled by the warmth of him, the soft pliant feel of his near human skin. God, how I hated the whiteness of my fingers touching him, fingers that could have crushed him now effortlessly. I wondered if he even guessed.

There was so much I wanted to say to him, to ask him. Yet I couldn’t find the words really, or a way to begin. He had always had so many questions; and now he had his answers, more answers perhaps than he could ever have wanted; and what had this done to his soul? Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it.

“Do you love me now?” I asked.

He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. “Yes,” he said. - The Queen of the Damned

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me in this misery, don't do it." - The Tale of the Body Thief

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still. - The Tale of the Body Thief

I stopped. I put my arm around him. I held him close to me.

“I’m Lestat,” I said in a low voice. “Your Lestat. I’m the same Lestat you’ve always known, and no matter how I’m changed, I’m still that same being.”

“I know,” he said warmly.

I kissed him. I pressed my lips to his and I held this kiss for a long silent moment. And then I gave in to a silent wave of feeling, and I took him in my arms. I held him tight against me. I felt his unmistakable silken skin, his soft shining black hair. I heard the blood throbbing in him, and time dissolved, and it seemed I was in some old and secret place, some warm tropical grotto we’d once shared, ours alone in some way, with the scent of sweet olive blossoms and the whisper of moist breeze. “I love you,” I whispered.

In a low intimate voice, he answered: “My heart is yours.” - Prince Lestat

I was unable to speak. He’d put on these clothes for me, and I knew it. Nothing else in this world would have prompted him to dress like this, or to have brushed all the dust out of his glistening black hair. And the hair he’d left long on rising so that it was full as it had been in the old days, wavy, a little unruly, curling just under his ears. Even his white skin looked polished. And a scent rose from him of a rare and expensive male cologne. That too, I had sent for. That too, servants had brought here along with my other gifts.

Silence. It was like when Gabrielle, my mother, undid her long braid and combed her free and luxuriant hair. I could scarcely breathe.

I sensed he understood. He crossed the hall and put his arms around me and kissed me on the lips.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked. Nothing mocking or mean in the tone.

Shocked. Unable to respond.

“Well, I figured you could use some new clothes, that you always can.” I was stammering, clinging to a shred of dignity, trivializing the moment with ridiculous words. - Prince Lestat and The Realms of Atlantis

“Some of us are infinitely better at being miserable than happy,” he said gently. “We’re good at it, and proud of it, and we get better and better at it, and we simply don’t know what it means to be happy.”

I nodded. My thoughts were as thick and confused as the dancers, the music. But the dancers and the music were beautiful. My thoughts were not.

I could not recall ever having spoken of Nicolas to Louis, never ever even mentioning Nicolas’s name. But then I do not remember everything, as I once thought I did. There is something in us, even us, that will not allow for that, something that pushes the memory of suffering that is unbearable slowly away.

“I have no gift for being miserable,” I said.

“I know,” he said. He laughed. Such a human face. Such a lovely face.

There must surely have been twice as many blood drinkers now in this ballroom as there had ever been, and I sensed that I had ought to stop having such a marvelous time and return to greeting newcomers as the Prince should. But not before holding Louis for a moment, and then kissing him and telling him low in French that I loved him and always had. - Blood Communion

[loveislattes]

1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations/tips and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing… suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.”

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Yes! I'm so glad u watched mrs Fletcher it deserves more love tbh how about a mrs Fletcher x female reader where she's a classmate of hers in the creative writing course they go too and eve flirts with the reader whenever she catches reader checking her out lmao and reader gets all shy/flustered and they see each other again at some bar and hook up? If that's cool! You can write it smut or not whatever is cool with you but uhh it be hot ofc 👀💀

I loved this show so much! I really hope you like this.

She was doing it again. You could understand why schools forced girls to cover their shoulders when the large swaths of her skin were distracting you. You couldn’t keep track of the conversation. Every time you looked away, she was like a magnet, drawing your gaze back.

And each time you did there would be a small upwards curve to her lips.

Not that you were staring at her lips. Again. You flushed and looked back down to your notebook, spinning your pen with your fingers.

When you looked up Eve was twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, lower lip worrying between her teeth, eyes averting from you before they could meet yours.

Your eyes tripped over her body, pausing to admire her collarbone, the way her chest rose and fell, the pale skin leading to the edge of her shirt.

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. A sharp inhalation had you looking back at her, her eyes boring into yours. There was something in them that had you clenching your fists, a warm tingle spreading over your body.

You turned your attention to whatever bullshit was spilling from Barry’s mouth. You tried to hold back an eye roll but couldn’t quite manage it. Eve giggled, making your eyes snap to her again, along with everyone else’s in the room. She murmured an apology, ducking her head to remove the attention from herself. As discussion started up again she looked up, giving you a wink. Your face warmed up.

You let the rest of the class wash over you, your eyes darting up now and then to look at the brunette across the room from you. You didn’t realise the lesson had finished until the noise suddenly increased as one voice layered over another. You shook your head, gathering up your notebook, shoving it into your bag.

“Are you coming with us?”

You looked up, surprised to find Eve looking at you with expectancy on her face.

“Sorry?” you asked.

“To the bar? Are you coming?” she asked.

“Oh.” You looked over her shoulder to a couple of expectant faces watching you, “I wish I could.”

“But?” She gently tugged on a strand of your hair, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“But it’s my friend’s birthday and I promised I’d stop by,” you said.

She pouted and you had to suppress the urge to kiss it away. She tugged on the strand of your hair again, wrapping it around her finger.

“I was hoping you’d come,” she said.

“Sorry but a promise is a promise,” you said, trying to suppress your blush.

She chuckled and you ducked your head. She lifted it with a finger under your chin.

“You’re a wonderful friend,” she said, “although I’d like you to remember my disappointment when you’re having fun tonight.”

“From the sounds of it, you don’t need my presence to have fun of your own,” you replied.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“I’m sure,” you replied, “have fun, Eve.”

You slipped out of the room with an apologetic smile. Your friend’s birthday was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, spending more time with Eve was everything you craved, but on the other you were terrified of making a fool of yourself in front of her. Better to avoid even the potential of it happening than to live through it.

The thought of what if made you a dull member of the party and when it was suggested it move to a local bar it made you a pang go through you. You couldn’t help but wonder which bar Eve was at, and what she might be doing. And with whom.

The group pushed through the doors of the bar, laughter and chatter loud, the cool breeze following you in. You were swept towards the bar without much thought. A cool beer was pressed into your hand. You wrinkled your nose, passing it on to one of the other girls.

“There’s some hot guys here,” one of the girls almost shouted in your ear. You giggled, flicking some hair over your shoulder, “reckon we should try and get the birthday girl laid?”

You looked in the direction she was gazing and froze. Julian was swaying in time with the music, a bottle of his own hanging loosely from his long fingers. If he was here then that meant…

Fingers pressed into her waist, turning you around. Sparkling blue eyes met yours and Eve lent forward, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke.

“I thought you said you couldn’t come out tonight.”

“The party moved,” you replied.

“I guess this is my lucky day,” she said, “now are you going to order me a drink?”

She gave you a cheeky grin, tugging on the end of your ponytail. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, your eyes darting down to her lips then back up again. You gave a nervous laugh.

“What are you having?” you asked.

“White wine with ice,” she replied.

You turned away, slapping your hand down on the bar. You were immediately greeted with the smile of the bartender. You put in your order, ignoring the wink he shot your way. Your fingers brushed against hers as you passed over the cool glass. She threaded her fingers through yours and tugged you away, shooting a glare behind you.

You settled at a table, your knees pressed together, watching as she slung one leg over the other. You licked your lips, watching as her eyes focused in on them, darkening. Her own tongue darted out and you felt heat rise high on your cheeks.

“Your friends look like they’re having fun,” she said. You glanced over your shoulder at the dance floor. A few of your friends were dancing, the birthday girl grinding up on Julian who looked as if he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it. You gave a dry chuckle, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle her if she got another drink in her. You turned back around to find Eve staring at you.

“What?” you asked, shifting in your seat.

“You’re an incredibly beautiful young woman,” she said, “you know that, right?”

You chuckled, “thanks.”

She reached across to you, her fingers running over the back of yours. It sent a shot of arousal through you, the skin on skin contact and soft touch making you catch your breath. She curled her fingers around, turning your hand over until it was facing palm up.

“I feel special that you’re not joining in the fun to indulge me,” she said.

“You are special,” you said, then blinked. You hadn’t meant to say it. Even if it was true.

You were surprised by the flush on her skin and the way her eyes looked down at your hand, where her fingers were still tracing over the lines of your palm. You stood, shuffling around the table. She looked up at you. You pulled your hand out from beneath hers.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you said, “so this is the time to tell me if you don’t want it.”

When she didn’t say anything you cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up. You pressed your lips to hers, soft and unsure of yourself. She wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you a set forward. You almost unbalanced, falling against her body. You gasped and her tongue invaded your mouth.

One of her legs managed to slip between yours, keeping your body pressed against hers. You slid a hand into her hair, tangling your fingers in it until it pulled. She moaned into your mouth before nipping at your lower lip.

You couldn’t get enough of her. She was intoxicating, addictive, and all you wanted was to let her consume you. Her kisses were like fire and you were worried if she asked you, you’d let her take you right then and there on the table. She drew back from you.

“Well, that was...,” she trailed off, sounding as breathless as you felt.

You didn’t let her catch her breath before kissing her again. You couldn’t stop. She was the air you breathed, the only important thing left. You needed her the way you’d never needed anyone else.

A loud laugh had you breaking away. You looked over your shoulder again, finding a group of your friends waving at you. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Eve.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you asked.

“Yes.”

She stood up, leaving her half drunk glass of wine, the ice long since melted. She slipped her arm around your waist, and you couldn’t stop your own from grasping her hip. You nipped at her earlobe, feeling her shiver from where she was pressed against you.

She drove you back to her place, assuring you her son was away at college with no plans of returning any time soon. You stumbled as you tried to pull your shoes off as she pulled you into the house. She grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. She pushed you against the wall, hard enough for your breath to woosh out of you.

You grabbed her hips, hauling her up until her legs wrapped around your waist. Her fingers buried in your hair, tugging on it until you were moaning into her mouth. You spun, pushing her against the wall, feeling her arch towards you.

She directed you to her room. You threw her down on the bed, watching as she bounced, her mouth falling open in surprise. She crawled over her, settling yourself on her mouth while you kissed her again. Her hands slipped under your shirt, palms pressing to your spine. You were holding her chin while you kissed her with abandon. She trailed her lips down, pressing to your pulse point, teeth scraping against your skin. Your head fell back as she pulled your shirt from your body. You reached behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side.

Her hands kneaded your breasts, brushing against your hardening nipples. You arched forward, seeking her touch. Her mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking on it until a curse fell from your lips. She chuckled against you, pinching at the other while she looked up at you with big eyes. You stared down at her, your fingers tangling in her hair, keeping her pressed to you.

She kissed back up your body, hovering close enough for your breaths to mingle. You surged forward, pressing yourself to her. You pawed at her, until you could pull her own shirt from her body. She fell back, pulling you with her until you were holding yourself above her. You couldn’t stop your eyes roving over her form, all pale skin and beauty. She left you breathless.

You kissed her with abandon, hoping you were making her feel even half of what you did. She groaned as you slid your hands down, tracing her skin, feeling how soft it was beneath your fingertips. She sighed as you tasted her skin, taking your time with her. You slid down her body, wondering if you could kiss every inch of her before the night was done.

You unbuttoned her jeans, watching her lean on her elbows to watch, her hair awry. You nipped at her hip bone as you passed, enjoying the way she thrust up towards you. She hummed as you pulled the jeans from her legs. She kicked them away.

You grasped her ankles, pinning them to the mattress. You pressed a kiss to her knee, working your way up until your lips were pressed to her inner thigh. Her eyes were smouldering where they met yours, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You dipped forward, blowing over her heat. Her legs twitched, as if the impulse to clamp her legs around your head was running through her.

Your mouth descended on her. A curse fell from her lips and her head fell back on the pillow. You grasped her thighs, parting them further, giving you more room as you devoured her. Her fingers clutched at you, pressing you to her as she ground against your face. You hummed, feeling her body stiffen.

She grasped your face, pulling until you climbed up her body, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. She kissed you, her tongue plundering the depths of your mouth. Her fingers worked on the fastening of your own jeans, practically ripping them from your body. You groaned into her mouth as her fingers found your core, running through your folds. You shifted your hips, a featherlight touch over your bundle of nerves making you whine.

You pressed against her own heat, stroking her as her fingers did the same to you. You sat up on her, your hips moving insistently as she made pleasure tingle along your skin. Your own fingers were still, waiting at her entrance.

“Please,” she moaned.

You pressed one finger into her, waiting for the go ahead before you added another. Her own finger began to circle your clit. You made a breathy little moan, your fingers stuttering. She shifted beneath you until you began to curl your fingers within her, watching her mouth fall open. You lent forward to kiss her again, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

She flipped the two of you, straddling your waist. Her teeth nipped at your lower lip, tugging on it. In retaliation you pressed the pad of your thumb down on her bundle of nerves. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. You gave her a cheeky grin that slipped as soon as you ground her palm against yours.

She was the first to fall apart, her fingers faltering as she threw her head back, her body tensing. You watched in fascination at the way her face contorted in pleasure. You watched her calm down, a smile taking over her face. She gave you a quick kiss before disappearing between your thighs.

You’d already been close but the sight of her down there, making eye contact with you, had you a panting mess. It wasn’t long before you were following her, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into you. You were crying out, gripping her too tightly as your legs shook.

She crawled back up your body, lying down beside you. You rolled onto your side, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. She smiled, pulling your forward into a soft kiss. You tangled your legs with hers, running your fingers along the bare skin of her back. She shivered, pressing closer to you.

“I’m glad you came to the bar,” she said.

“I’m glad we ended up at the one you were in,” you replied.

“We’re both very lucky then,” she said.

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss her again. She stopped you with a finger to your lips. You blinked, drawing back, the flush of shame filling you.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner tomorrow night,” she said, “if you’re free.”

“Oh,” you said, “yes, I’d like that.”

“Would you?”

You rolled over, straddling her waist and cupping her cheeks. She looked up at you. You kissed her again.

“You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

Permanent Tag List: @paulawand @delias-bitch-craft @sarahp-stan

[rattyoakenbitch]

karate kid: “because of you” ₊˚ ⸝  johnny x reader

❝but it can all get a lil’ crazy, unless there’s something to hold onto. for me, that was true love.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lana del rey - because of you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: johnny lawrence (1984) x reader

warnings: angst, language, mentions of sex, themes of depression, the overuse of the word ‘baby’ lmfaooo

summary: despite johnny’s reputation, you still weren’t expecting him, your first and only, to be unfaithful. but you were only a blind fool in love, after all.

“.. What the hell is going on here?”

You stood back on the beach overlook with your friend, watching the scene unravel before your eyes.

Below you, there Johnny was, along with his little Cobra Kai gang. The small crowd of teenagers around him shouted and cheered as he brawled with a smaller kid in a red sweater, who was obviously getting his ass beat. 

“Dammit, Johnny, stop!” 

A familiar high pitched, girlish scream caught your attention. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they stopped on Ali, who you knew to be Johnny’s old flame. Despite them being over for a while now, you knew Johnny still had feelings for her. But it was something you buried in the back of your mind. You were too in love with Johnny to acknowledge or care about the fact that he hasn’t moved on. 

Now, watching what was happening, you didn’t know what to think or how to feel. You’ve barely talked to Johnny at all over the week, and now you find him here?

Instead of intervening and chasing after Johnny, you gestured for your friend to follow you back to the car and head elsewhere. She didn’t protest and based on the heartbroken expression on your face, she knew better than to question you. Now was not the time to talk it through. 

Since that night, things were not the same. You explained your situation to your parents who were aware of your relationship, or now former relationship with Johnny. Johnny would call a few times a day, but you never bothered to pick up. His calls started to get more and more frequent, so you ended up blocking his number. Because of this, you started to fall out with the Cobra Kais, who you made good friends with because of your relationship with Johnny. So knowing you’d run into them at school, you stopped attending and would spend the days locked up in your room, only going out to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen. By now, Johnny knew something was up, and went as far as to pick a fight with your dad whenever he’d drop by your house, asking to see you.

“Come on! I just wanna see Y/N, dammit!”

“She’s none of your business anymore, young man. Now get the hell off my property!”

“Man, fuck you! Let me see her! I need to talk to her!”

“You have three seconds, Mr Lawrence!”

“Y/N, I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me!”

The days became gloomier and gloomier. Weeks had passed and you hadn’t talked to anybody. You shut everyone out and would spend the days alone in your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

How could you be so foolish?

To think you could be the one to fix Johnny. 

To think he loved you as much as you loved him.

To think he would want a future with you as much as he wanted your clothes off.

But the reality hit you; you were just a rebound. And you let him use you. It was all your fault. 

An overwhelming feeling of nausea and anxiety overtook you. You jumped off your bed and ran to the bathroom, pushing open the toilet lid and vomiting. You flushed the contents down and got to your feet to straighten yourself up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes widening in disbelief. You didn’t even recognize your reflection.. The person looking back at you was a stranger.

You lifted your hand up to touch your face as you analyzed your appearance. You had dark bags under your bloodshot eyes, your hair disheveled, skin pale and dry. 

“That’s just great.”

Sighing, you stooped down to the sink to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. As soon as you were finished, you flicked the light switch and trailed back to your room. However, you were stopped in your tracks by the sound of your father’s voice. 

“Y/N..? Oh, wow.. Wow, girl, I haven’t seen you in days.. How are you feeling now?” He stared down at you, searching your empty face for answers. You avoided his gaze, crossing his arms and looking down at your feet. He sighed, “The school called. You need to return by this Monday.”

You felt your heart sink. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to speak until he cut you off.

“I know you’re still healing but... This isn’t good for you. When you get back to school, you’ll at least get to hang out with your friends again, right?” You weakly shrugged, causing him to let out another heavy sigh. He patted your shoulder. “It’ll get better and soon, you’ll be back to your normal self!”

“What day is it?” you asked.

“It’s Sunday..”

You groaned, “Oh, gosh.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll run into my ex and his little posse, who I ghosted, and then have to explain to my friends why I look and feel like shit. Great. Thanks dad,” you scoffed sarcastically, and stormed off into your room, slamming it shut.

Today was the today. Exasperatingly, you dragged yourself out of bed, showered, brushed your teeth, and tied up your hair into a long braid that cascaded down your back. You figured you’d put on a bit of concealer to hide your dark circles, and topped that off by applying dark red lipstick. You dressed yourself in a white shirt, the collar sticking out of the green sweater you layered on top of it. You matched that with a white pleated skirt that stopped mid thigh, and slipped on a pair of black knee high socks. 

Finished with your look, you shrugged on your backpack and headed downstairs, putting on your Mary Janes before pulling open the front door. You ignored your mom’s calls and ran out to the driveway, about to get into your vehicle to head to school. However, the plans seemed to change when a familiar red car idling on your street caught your attention. 

Your heart began to thump loudly in your chest when you met Johnny’s burning gaze as he waited for you in the car. Knowing how stubborn and persistent he was, you immediately gave up and got into the car, slamming the door shut. 

“All right, so you gonna explain where the hell you’ve been?” Anger and rancor dripped off his voice. You knew this would happen.

Turning to look him in the eye, you treated him with the same attitude. “Oh, that’s just golden! Where have I been? No, Johnny, where the hell have you been? I was trying to reach you for over a week until I found you at the beach with Ali.. Not to mention you were picking on that poor kid.”

As soon as you mentioned Ali, Johnny’s demeanor changed. He laid back into his seat, his jaw clenched. He was caught. 

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?”

When he wouldn’t reply, you broke the silence. “I don’t wanna argue with you right now, let alone talk to you. Now just drive me to school or I’ll be late.”

He scoffed. “Since when did you care about being late? You were absent for more than a week!”

“Jeez, wonder why,” you retorted. “You know what? This was a mistake.” You pushed open the car door, about to step out, when Johnny gripped your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Wait, don’t go,” he said softly, begging you to stay. Worry filled his big baby blue eyes as he waited on your decision. “Please, Y/N.” You could never say no to him, especially when he was giving you that look. You got back into the car and shut the door, but faced away from Johnny. You swatted away his hand, causing him to recoil and put both hands on the wheel. 

“If we’re gonna talk, let’s not do it here,” you said.

After that, you both stayed silent as he started the car, driving off to wherever. As you drew nearer to your destination, the surroundings started to look more and more familiar. It hit you; this is where you and Johnny had your first kiss, and maybe a little more than just that.. You found yourself smiling at the memories. Then again, maybe some things are just better as memories. 

You were laid beside Johnny on his car, watching the sunset. When the sun went down, instead of heading back home, you ended up stargazing together. You both entirely forgot about your surroundings and the time, getting lost in conversation. Conversation turned into kissing, which eventually lead to something much more heated. 

“You’re so damn beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’re all mine,” Johnny hummed, beaming and grinning widely. You giggled, continuing to pepper his pretty face with kisses.

“Well, you better believe it then, babe,” you said in between kisses. “Cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

Johnny sighed in satisfaction, pulling you closer to him. “Good, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Johnny managed to catch your lips, capturing you in a deep, passionate and loving kiss. He held you tightly against him as you straddled his lap like his life depended on it. 

Johnny pulled over, snapping you back into reality. You overlooked the city as he shut off the car engine with a heavy sigh, preparing himself for whatever was to come out of this conversation.

“So? You got anything to say for yourself, Lawrence?”

He took a moment to think, before opening his mouth to speak. 

“Y/N.. I’m sorry. I fucked up big time.” You scoffed at that, rolling your eyes and looking away from Johnny. “I’m sorry! I really am! I know I shouldn’t have gone after Ali when I had you.”

“Had,” you pointed out, chuckling.

“Oh, just listen to me, will ya? I told you I’m sorry and I admit to my mistakes!”

“And lemme guess; you’re telling me all this just now because Ali once again rejected you?” Johnny stayed silent, a sheepish and guilty look on his face. You groaned, “For fucks sake, Johnny. Do you ever mean the things you say? This was a complete waste of my time.”

“I didn’t wanna lose you, Y/N.”

“If you’re still loving Ali, then you’ve already lost me.”

“Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious. You ghosted me! At least I tried to make things right between us instead of running away!”

“You really are an awful person, Johnny Lawrence. My friends were right about you-” you blurted out. Your throat ached as you tried to keep yourself together. “You’re really nothing but a player! There is no ‘us’. You don’t give a damn about me. You never did. So just drop the act and take me to school,” you whispered the last part, not wanting Johnny to hear your voice break. But he could easily see through your anger and sense the sadness in your voice.

You faced the opposite direction from Johnny. 

“Please look at me,” Johnny said after a while. You refused to glance his way, your eyes fixed on your fingers as you anxiously twiddled them together. The rage built up inside of you and the thoughts fueled by heartbreak, you kept to yourself. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want to show Johnny how much he truly hurt you. But all that was gone when tears began to stream down your face. 

“Oh, Y/N, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I-” Johnny trailed off, his voice cracking. He felt so lost. He had never been faced with a situation like this, even with Ali. And he’s never seen you cry before. You were always tough and strong in front of him, and to see you bawl like this, he thought it really must be that bad. 

“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” you sniffled. “Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

“Then I’m gonna keep apologizing because I mean it! With all my heart, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you cry. I can’t stand seeing you like this because of me.”

You turned your face slightly towards Johnny’s direction, curiosity and hope sparking inside of you. 

“I was told that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. And even if you leave after this, I’m not gonna hide the way I feel, Y/N. I’ve never felt this way about a girl. Even with Ali. That’s why I was confused at first, but I knew I wanted to make it work with you.” Johnny squeezes your hand in his significantly bigger ones. “I hated to admit it at first, but I was and am smitten with you. You cross my mind everyday, and every song reminds me of you. And- And even if you shut me out after this.. If you go, I’ll stay. Even when you fall out of love, I just want you to know I’ll always have feelings for you.”

You didn’t know what to say after Johnny’s confession. You had all these emotions; betrayal, heartbreak, anger, confusion. They clouded your mind. You didn’t know how to properly react. 

“Do you really mean that?”

Johnny chuckles sadly, “I may be a douche, but I’m not a liar.”

You leaned back into your seat, replaying everything that just happened in your head. Johnny’s confessions, his declaration of love for you. You knew Johnny had a rough life and wasn’t one to be open about his feelings. And you also knew you loved that boy, even after the pain he caused you. Did you really wanna risk it and be with him? 

After being silent for a while, the uncomfortable stillness in the air prompted Johnny to speak up. 

“You- I- I’ll just.. I can take you home. Wherever-”

“No! Wait, don’t,” you placed your hand over Johnny’s before he got the chance to start the car. You locked eyes with him, your heart beat beginning to speed up suddenly. You were stuck on what to do at that moment. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you thought to yourself, and cupped Johnny’s face, bringing him closer to you. Now without the support of your hands, you were caught off balance and ended up stumbling atop Johnny. And in the heat of the moment, you crashed your lips to his. Okay, that was totally intentional. 

Johnny didn’t waste a second and immediately kissed you back, holding you steady above him. You really didn’t want to, but you had to break the kiss for air, giving Johnny the chance to let out breathy words.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

You pressed your forehead to his and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while you tangled your fingers in his hair. He cupped your face, placing gentle little kisses on your nose.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen to us, baby, I promise.”

[rhysismydaddy]

Can you add me to the damnation tag list please? Thank you!! Also if you’re taking prompts: the song partition by Beyoncé, specifically the line “took 45 minutes to get all dressed up / and we ain’t even gonna make it to this club” for nessian or rowaelin

Rowan pulled at the collar of his shirt, frowning. He was already hot, and they weren’t even at the goddamn club. Hell, they hadn’t even left yet.

He was sitting in the car waiting for his wife, scrolling through his email and trying to resist the urge to back inside and throttle her. "Five minutes" his ass.

Even though he was irritated, he was used to this behavior. So was their driver, Ricky. When he'd told the stout man Aelin said she was almost ready, he'd just given Rowan a knowing smile, pulled out the newspaper, and rolled up the divider to give him some privacy.

Something he was very grateful for when, twenty minutes after she'd said she'd be ready, Aelin opened the back door and slid onto the seat across from him.

The phone fell from his hands, emails suddenly the last thing on his mind, as he took her in all the way from her curly blonde hair to her painted red toenails.

"What... what are you wearing?" he asked, voice embarrassingly raspy.

“A dress,” she replied simply, knocking on the divider between them and the driver to signal they were finally ready.

He scowled, because duh, but he’d never seen anything like what she was wearing.

First of all, it was fucking sheer.

Thin layers of black tulle wrapped around her frame, creating a see-through illusion that was messing with his mind. He guessed she was technically covered, but not enough he couldn’t see the outline of her high-cut black panties and bra. A lot of skin was showing.

Skin everyone in the club she was dragging him to would see.

“Aelin.”

“Mmm?”

“How many people are you trying to make me kill tonight?”

He wasn't a necessarily territorial man--at least he didn't think so. And the logical part of his brain told him that his wife loved him. He had nothing to worry about.

The not-so-logical part told him to not let her out of the car. Or to start cracking skulls.

His eyes finally figured out how to move off her breasts and as he looked at her face, she smiled at him knowingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rowan growled, trying to discretely shift himself in his pants.

She noticed, of course, and her grin grew. “Rowan, get it together. If you can’t even make a twenty minute car ride, how are you going to deal with me dancing on you tonight?”

“I’m not,” he gruffed, looking at her innocent little nose. “I’m going to stand at the bar and glare at anyone who tries to get close to you.”

She tilted her head, considering this. “I don’t think so. I want to dance with you."

"Then you should've worn something less... tempting."

"Tempting?" Aelin asked, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Stop acting innocent. You wear a dress like that, and you're going to get my attention."

She leaned back, hips sliding down the seat and thighs falling open.

Skulls. Cracking.

"What are you tempted to do?"

It was a breathy whisper, one that told him she was just as hot and bothered as him.

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and his hands on hers, edging her thighs open a little further. Running his thumbs across her soft skin, he grinned when he felt it pebble and her breathing grow shallow.

"Currently," he began, running his hands down her calves, back over her knees, up her thighs. "I'm tempted to get on my knees before you and worship you. You look like a goddess, Fireheart."

She grinned, opening her mouth to respond, but he brought a hand up and brushed a finger down that bright red lip. "And then I'm tempted to fuck your mouth for messing with me in the first place."

Her lips parted, drawing his thumb inside her mouth, and he almost came at the sinful lap of her tongue. He pushed it deeper, eyes drifting closed when she moaned.

"But, you've been waiting for this opening for a while," he said, acting unaffected despite the tent in his pants and sitting back. "And you've obviously spent a while getting ready. I can wait."

She made an angry, frustrated sound and flung herself on him, somehow ending up on his lap, her knees by his hips. "I lied," she breathed, pushing herself down against him. "There isn't a club opening tonight. It opened last week, and I went with Lysandra. I just wanted-"

He knew what she wanted. And like always, he gave it to her.

A hand on the back of her neck pulled her mouth to his, and Rowan kissed her desperately, deep and searching and thorough. He met her tongue with his, sucked on her lips, kissed her the way he would if he got between her thighs. If the way she was moving on him was any indication, she knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying it.

His hands pushed up the thin material, and then he was gripping her ass, growling at the fact that she'd been about to wear this in public.

"I'm going to kill the neighbors," he told her, realizing they might have seen her walk to the car.

"Okay," she agreed, tilting her head back as Rowan kissed her neck. "I hate them anyway."

He was too hard, too desperate to be amused.

The desperation led to him ripping her panties off, something he knew she'd give him shit for later. But it seemed she was too far gone to care much, especially as he slipped two fingers up her thigh and pushed them into her. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes drifting closed and head falling back.

He groaned at how tight and wet she was, clenching his jaw. The way she moved her hips gave him just enough friction that he couldn't think, and he fucked her harder with his fingers in retaliation.

His thumb drew small, quick circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, clenching his jaw and going faster when she tightened around him.

"Ro, I'm going to-"

She cut herself off and released a curse that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush as the car slowed to a stop, making him chuckle.

Aelin leaned over and slapped the intercom button to connect them to the driver. Right as she opened her mouth to speak, Rowan curled his fingers and pushed his thumb against her clit in a way he knew would drive her wild. She gasped, trying to hide it under a cough. "Um, fuck, just- just drive around, Ricky!"

The amused response came through a second later. "Of course, ma'am."

He likely knew exactly what they were doing back here, but Rowan didn't have half a mind to care.

As the car started moving again, Aelin sat back up and slapped his chest. "You're such an asshole."

He made another circle with his thumb. "Am I?"

She trembled, shaking her head, and he gave her a slow smile.

One hand buried between her thighs, he used the other to tug down the front of her dress and bra. His mouth came to her breast, and he swirled his tongue around her nipple in time with the movements of his thumb.

Aelin groaned loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders and hips churning sloppily.

"That's it," he encouraged, tugging on her nipple with his teeth. "Ride my hand, Fireheart."

He knew she was getting close from the way she tightened around his fingers, so he released her breasts and licked a line up the column of her throat. Her head was thrown back, giving him plenty of access, and he made use of it, sucking and licking and biting at her skin until he knew he'd leave a mark.

She cried out as she came, loud enough he hoped Ricky had a serious hearing problem.

Her legs shook and she trembled, but he kept going until she stilled and collapsed into his chest. Then he pulled them out and licked them clean, eyes rolling back at the taste of her.

After three years of marriage, she was still the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Not that he was surprised--she constantly did things like this that made him burn hotter and hotter for her as the years went by.

Apparently, the sentiment was requited, because before he knew what she was doing, his wife slid to her knees before him and flicked open his belt.

She met his eyes as she freed him, running a finger slowly down the length of him.

"Aelin," he warned, not in the mood to be teased. Normally, he'd sit there all day and let her fool around, but he wanted her--needed her--now.

She rolled her eyes, but gave him what he needed, leaning down to put her mouth on him.

A muttered "fuck" fell off his lips, his hips bucking slightly at the sudden sensation.

Her hands were running over his thighs and up his abs, like she relished the feel of him as much he did her.

Pulling back, she hollowed her cheeks and circled her tongue around his tip. Rowan's hands were fists at his sides and his jaw was clenched tight. She's been down there for ten seconds, he reminded himself, trying not to be a chump.

Except it felt too goddamn good.

She knew exactly what he liked, and she gave it to him so fucking well he could do nothing but sit there and try not to act like a wild animal.

His hands found their way into her hair, holding it back to give him an unobstructed view.

Her full lips enveloped him, staining his cock red, and he almost came at the sight.

"Look at me," he rasped, groaning when she opened her eyes to meet his. "Fucking hell."

Those eyes undid him, and he didn't care if it made him a chump or not.

"I'm close," he warned her, pulling out a little.

But she was having none of that and dipped her head to take all of him again.

With another muffled curse, release found him, and if there was ever any doubt as to if she was the perfect woman for him, it was gone the second she moaned as he came down her throat.

His head hit the seat behind him as he breathed and breathed and tried to not pass out.

Sitting up on her knees, Aelin licked her lips and looked him over slowly.

Rowan tucked himself back into his trousers, then grabbed her arms and pulled her up onto his lap. He tucked her into him, fixing her clothes as best he could. She'd definitely have to wear his jacket when she got out, considering he'd torn her underwear off, but that was a problem for later.

He kissed her brow, smiling. "Happy anniversary, Fireheart."

Her head tilted back, those eyes meeting his again. "Happy anniversary, Buzzard."

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round. 

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.  

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”. 

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament. 

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm. 

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in. 

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly. 

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue. 

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.  

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”. 

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested. 

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”. 

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”. 

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you. 

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger. 

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed? 

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad. 

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day. 

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked. 

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked. 

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief. 

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”. 

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts. 

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness. 

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”. 

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure. 

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped. 

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”. 

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection. 

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool. 

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him? 

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”. 

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”. 

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President. 

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore.  “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did. 

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”. 

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”. 

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”. 

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon. 

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”. 

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you. 

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”. 

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife. 

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back. 

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother? 

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up. 

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober. 

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”. 

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him  and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all. 

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”. 

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”. 

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked. 

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”. 

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana​

[dracosaurusrex]

Palace

Summary: In which you discover a new love in the midst of your heartbreak.

Prompt:  “with you, I thought I knew love. but maybe I still don’t” A/N: Hi y’all! So this is my take on the @minty-malfoy ‘s 300 writing challenge :) (Congratulations my friend! You’re amazing!) I have to admit, writing angst is not my strong suit, and I had to do some research to grasp what it was. Within my findings, something that caught my attention in particular was the fact that angst is defined as going through the character’s emotional workings, topped with a newfound sense of strength. There might be some holes present, but overall this piece is molded on that understanding, and I hope it reaches out to you in whatever way that resonates the most.

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Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Y/N had been able to pick up a number of skills. She may not have been as good at studying as Hermione Granger, or as athletic as Ginny Weasely, or even as creative as Luna Lovegood--no. You were an average girl who didn’t have much to show for except your ability to hide behind a thick mask.

You were typically known for your kindness, which was complimented by a pair of sparkling e/c eyes, a warm smile, and a nurturing personality. Additionally, you were graced with a good sense of humor and an infectious laugh. To all of your friends, you were the embodiment of the sun; a girl whose being was commonly associated with terms such as, “beautiful”, “genuine”, and “loving”. A girl who never seemed to show any indication of internal conflict, who had everything under control.

These perceptions always came in handy, for they molded into the shape of a mask when times became rough for you. Because of this, you were capable of fooling everyone into thinking that you were okay.

You felt your consciousness resurfacing from sleep as the morning lulled your body awake. Your eyes fluttered open to the ceiling with your fingers interlaced over your chest. Meanwhile, rays of early light infiltrated random crevices of the dorm, and birds were singing rather loudly outside of your window. Allowing yourself to lay in the stillness, you treasured the moment, took deep breaths, and basked in what felt like peace.

Your surroundings were blissful--and you were grateful--but waking up now equated to reuniting with the recurring tightness that gripped your heart. Memories of a love that had once initiated butterflies had transformed into needles that prickled your chest. A love that once caressed you now felt like a ghostly presence. 

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ You found asking yourself as of late. As you laid in bed, you allowed old scenes of your time with Draco Malfoy to play in your head, recalling the feelings attached to each.

You remembered the rush of adrenaline that you felt the first time you had confessed. You remembered the relief combined with excitement when the feelings were confirmed to be mutual.

You remembered the feeling of your heart skipping when his fingers first slipped into yours, hands intertwined like a glove.

You remembered the temporary sense of confidence that overcame when you initiated the first kiss and the shock that appeared on both your faces after realizing what you did. 

The first “I love you”.

You remembered your first time with him--the sweet whispers, the moans, the laughing, the feeling of pleasure as you came onto one another. You remembered the way his fingers stroked your hair as you laid on top of him with his free arm wrapped around your waist.

You recalled memories of exchanges of comforting words during moments where either one of you felt doubt or unease. 

You remembered the inside jokes you made, the goofy side of him that he only showed to you.

You remembered the plans you both have made, the exhilarating thought of sharing a future with him. The way he gripped your hands and looked into your eyes as he made promises that ended up being broken. 

You remembered the thrill of it all--the palace you had built with him, and how you’ve done so fearlessly until it came crashing down. 

You recalled all the love you had ever given him, all of yourself you had devoted to him, all the dreams, the hopes, the what-could’ve-beens in the moment the words fell out of his lips:

“With you, I thought I knew love. But maybe I still don’t.” Draco uttered in a bare whisper. 

He kept his hands clasped on his lap as he avoided looking at you. You had found yourselves sitting on the edge of his bed with the moonlight illuminating his dorm.

Just a couple weeks ago you were in his arms, sharing kisses without any thought that this would happen--you were on top of the world--but when it did, you felt knots forming over your chest and your stomach. A sob had dared to come up, but you gulped it back down into your throat. Your mind was racing and your eyes were tearing, but you wouldn’t allow your tears to fall. You couldn’t. 

Instead, you grabbed both sides of his face and smiled weakly. 

“Draco, I’ll always love you. I’ll always care for you…” Your lips started to tremble as you looked straight into Draco’s eyes. They were filled with so much guilt.

Breathing in and out slowly, you continued, “I just hope the next girl will be able to make you even happier and take care of you much better than I did.” 

Your lips were pursed into a tight line as you tried to give a convincing smile of reassurance. Your throat started to sting because of the resistance you made towards crying. In doing so, a tear had found a way to roll down your cheek. He grabbed your wrists as you continued to hold his face, his eyes glazed over with regret. His lips trembled as he witnessed your efforts to be strong. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you at all! I-” You hushed his frantic whispers.

“Don’t worry about me, my love. I promise you everything will be okay.” It was at this point that Draco let out the gasp of despair he held in. He proceeded to reach out to wipe your tears. You closed your eyes and allowed them to fall at this point, leaning into his touch for the very last time. Once you opened them, you did the same and wiped the tears that had stained his porcelain skin. Draco sat there stunned at how much you were holding in.

You whispered, “We’ll be okay. Okay?” He could only nod. You remembered the last time you leaned forward to kiss his lips. To your dismay, he didn’t respond. As you drew yourself away from him, you stood up straight and attempted in giving one of your signature smiles.

“I guess I’ll see you around Malfoy.” 

You recall feeling dead upon arriving at your dorm. Your eyes were puffy, and you thought you finished crying, but as you tucked yourself to bed, the tears you had kept began to fall.

You broke away from the memory as you silently wiped the tears that had formed in your eyes. It has been about a month since your break up. You hadn’t talked to the boy since then. Instead, you made it a priority to reconstruct your life. Your friends would constantly try to comfort you by saying things like, “Go show him what he lost” or “He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N!” You appreciated their efforts, but Merlin knows that it’ll take a while for you to heal. You couldn’t bring it upon yourself to be angry at him. While the moment left a bitter taste in your mouth, you knew deep inside that the love you shared for one another was never a waste of time. 

With a huff, you jolted from your bed, grabbed your uniform, and dragged your legs to the bathroom to get ready for the new school day. The way you handled yourself now was done more carefully than how you used to. Every motion--buttoning your shirt, tucking it into your skirt, tying your tie, and throwing your jumper over your body--was done with more caution. You brushed your hair straight, running your fingers through any tangles, and clamped it into a simple half-do. As you stared into the mirror, you took notice of your appearance. The red tint that lined the edges of your eyes as a result of the tears you shed earlier. You notice the bags that have formed, the slight peeling of your lips. You began to fix your face by applying a light amount of foundation and mascara, followed by a thin layer of tinted chapstick. Slowly, the indications of your sadness dissipated as you put on your makeup. You weren’t really the type to praise yourself, but as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more, you had to admit that you felt a bit pretty. ‘It’s a step forward. Here’s to another day’ You smiled slightly at your reflection, and made your way to the Great Hall.

So far, you managed to show what you considered to be your normal self to your friends whenever they were in your presence. Not wanting them to worry, you did your best to seem energized every time you were joined in their conversations, inserting laughs, and adding on to the fun when needed. You felt obligated to show everyone, including Draco, that you were okay. It’s been like that ever since things ended. The entire student body was aware of the fall. Both you and the boy looked very off the day after it happened. However, slowly but surely, you had reverted back to your sunny self, surprising many of those around you. Only you knew that it was a facade though, and that deep down inside, you still pined for the ghost of your relationship. 

Your thoughts often drifted to him. He was sat in the Slytherin table with his usual group of friends. As you took small glances at him, you wondered what went on in his mind, how he felt about you, and whether or not he misses what you had shared with him. You wondered if he took notice of the energy you conveyed, if he noticed the smile that was plastered on your face now that you weren’t together. Was he convinced with your little charade? 

You broke your gaze from him the moment he turned his focus to your direction. Not wanting to get caught, you chimed into their conversation once more, a convincing smile of enjoyment on your lips.  Once you felt that enough time had passed, you discretely glance at him again, only to have your eyes meet ever so slightly. The time for your classes to start was drawing near. Wanting to be alone in your own thoughts, you left them to walk around.

The hallways you roamed in taunted you as you began to recall, once again, figures of your memories. A warm feeling rose in your chest as you relished the small moments of laughter, playful kisses, and the heart-racing sensation of the back hugs he gave. It was ironic, but reminiscing helped you cope. Perhaps it was the thought of another chance. At the same time, however, you couldn’t deny that it might’ve been the result of the fear of moving on. You sighed, allowing your mind to push away the harshness of the latter. ‘Today will be a good day. I’ll make sure of it.’ With the feeling of encouragement overcoming you once again, you set off to your first class with a new sense of optimism. You weren’t sure about how long the feeling would last, but now that you had it, there was no point in taking it for granted. After all, as long as you were alive, the Earth would still continue to turn, and your commitment to reconstructing your life blazed on. 

The fluctuation between sadness and inspiration was a common occurrence in this point of your life. There were nights that felt completely agonizing, but there were also moments where you felt as though you were slowly falling in love with your life and the potential that it holds. It was then that you felt such enlightenment had brought you raw joy and peace. No masks or facades. No fake smiles. These were found in very minuscule fragments throughout the day. It took the form of the sense of concentration that you had when you studied, the feeling of achievement when you understood a difficult concept. It also embodied the scent of rain when it pours, the cold air that accompanies the sunrise, the sight of bookshelves in the library, the blissful feeling of getting lost in muggle literature. Joy was found in the sounds of the crackling fire, a satisfied belly after a good dinner, as well as the company of friends who have seen you at your worst. You were enchanted by the thought of filling your life with these wholesome moments--to take control and be the artist as you paint such details into your canvas. Sometimes such joy became so overwhelming that the heartache you felt seemed nonexistent.

‘How nice would it be to share it with you, though.’ You thought of him.

And perhaps you would be able to one day; but for now, within the sadness you were beginning to embrace this new love. A love that surpassed the borders of romantic affections.

Draco’s words would ring in your mind whenever you thought of this. You would create scenarios in your head, formulating what you would’ve said to him that night with all the newfound wisdom you had now.

“I thought I knew what love was when I was with you also. However, I can now see the pieces of my true love. How it surrounds me whether you’re by my side or not.” You said to yourself, wrapping yourself in hope as you amount to build your own palace once again.

A/N: I might make a second part to this to show Draco’s view on Y/N’s growth, but we’ll see hehe! I hope that moments of peace and bits of joy make their way to you no matter how hard life may become. You’re all deserving of love <3 Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day!

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 4

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Sexual abuse (skip to the solo ". . ." to skip that part)

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - Breaking Out of Hell

Song Qingshi finally connected the child with the red tear mole in his memories and the peerless beauty on the golden bird frame.

Someone eavesdropping on their conversation clapped his hands and laughed: "Xie Que is really wicked. It must have been so amusing to see when the little apprentice discovered the truth."

Since Jin FeiRen had cultivated immortality, he had received countless beauties, but he was still excited about the moment that Yue Wuhuan entering the door: "That year, when I was eight hundred years old, I received countless congratulations, so I held a feast on this Langgan stage and invited all my friends to celebrate together. Xie Que also came with Wuhuan. He seemed to tell Wuhuan that he was going to send him to Golden Phoenix Manor to learn sword fighting. Wuhuan was overjoyed. When Xie was absent, he took out the spirit bead and asked me to inspect the slave. His incredulous expression was really cute. . ."

Jin FeiRen casually played with the long hair of the boy in white, forcing him to look at the beauty on the golden bird stand, and then told everyone about the past events:

At that time, Yue Wuhuan had just grown up, wearing the Yuelan clothes that all immortal disciples liked, with a sword on his waist, his hair tied with a simple white jade crown. His body had a clean smell, his facial features were exquisite, and his phoenix eyes were clear and innocent. He had dignified manners, unlike someone with a mortal origin, but like the young son of the immortal family.

He earnestly bowed to the immortals at the banquet and then told Jin FeiRen that he was already in the middle stage of foundation building and that he would work hard to master his sword at Golden Phoenix Manor in the future, and live up to Master's expectations and become like Mo Yuan. The powerful sword repair. At that time, everyone laughed, and there was an ambiguous atmosphere that was built from the laughter. Yue Wuhuan realized that there was something wrong with their laughter and wanted to retreat. Jin FeiRen had already walked down, lifted his hand, studied it carefully, and laughed: "Such a beautiful hand is not suitable for swordsmanship. It's more suitable for serving people."

Yue Wuhuan's face turned pale and he desperately retracted his hands.

Jin FeiRen let go and smiled: "Immortal Xie, since you have brought some excellent goods, you must let me inspect the goods."

The people in the room also clamoured and demanded to inspect the goods on the spot.

Yue Wuhuan watched as his master took out a red bead. He turned his mind, and lost control of his body. He desperately tried to prevent his trembling hands from reaching his waist and threw his most treasured sword away like trash. Long sword. Then, his belt fell, and the layers of Yuelan's clothes faded away. His self-esteem was destroyed in front of everyone, and his dream of cultivation was crushed to pieces.

All sounds of the dinner stopped, and all eyes were staring at the beautiful scenery.

Jin FeiRen couldn't help but straighten up.

Yue Wuhuan was struggling in this controlled state, wishing to die on the spot. He looked at his master in pain, his beautiful lips squirming, and begged silently. Xie Que finally walked towards him and gently stretched out his hand, just like when he touched his head every day to praise him.

Xie Que gently pulled off his white jade crown.

The white jade crown fell to the floor and smashed into pieces. The long, slightly curled hair dropped down to his waist like a waterfall, covering the enchanting Acacia Seal on his pale back. The despair and helplessness in the dark golden phoenix eyes were enough to arouse any raging thoughts. The red tear-shaped mole made people feel allured, and the originally beautiful boy was turned into a seductive collectable.

The more Wuhuan struggled, the more his head lowered to hide himself away in embarrassment.

Xie Que grabbed Yue Wuhuan's long hair and pulled it back fiercely, forcing the ashamed young man to raise his head so that everyone could see one of the best beauties of the country.

He smiled and said: "My vision is never wrong."

. . .

The sound of the flute resonated further, and the depth of the sadness in that lingering sound became more devastating.

Song Qingshi's throat stiffened from sadness, and he was left a little breathless. He gradually understood the meaning of the words Yue Wuhuan said by the river bank. He seemed to see himself locked in a physical prison from his past. He shouted every day, but no one could hear his cry for help.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He already knew the answer.

He wanted to save was this bruised beautiful bird with his strings of scars.

Song Qingshi began to think wildly about how to naturally whisk this boy away.

The song ended, the flute stopped, and the remaining notes curled away into the wind.

The guests had already been enthusiastic from the song, and now some were even making fools of themselves.

Jin FeiRen got up and announced boldly: "This is the toy that Golden Phoenix Manor will give to you all immortal friends tonight. Please enjoy!."

Song Qingshi was startled and looked back worriedly. Yue Wuhuan only raised his eyebrows. It seemed that he was used to such a scene. He indifferently cast a wink at the immortal beside him, his beautiful calves stretched out under the feather skirt, shaking the bells on the golden shackles on his feet. He swayed them towards everyone as if inviting them to taste.

The Hidden Moon Sect's Young Master looked at him with desire. He raised his hand to grab his foot and wanted to tear off the feather skirt and drag him off to the side to play around with.

Suddenly, there was an exclamation from outside the hall, and the maids and servants fled one after another. A demon tiger rushed into the hall. Its eyes were red, staring at Yue Wuhuan, roaring in a low voice, as if it saw some delicious prey. Yue Wuhuan’s eyes began to glaze over as if he had been drugged. It was like he didn't know what fear was. He actually walked towards the demon tiger, closer and closer, seeming not to know what it was. . .

LingBao Xianzun said in surprise: "This is the show my friend arranged tonight? Such flair!"

The guests were full of drunken spirit. They were getting extremely exciting and started cheering.

The white-clothed boy finally couldn't help standing up. He pushed Jin FeiRen away, and shouted: "Stop! Don't do this! This sort of show. . . is too much!"

Jin FeiRen was a little puzzled. He had arranged a demon tiger hunting slave game tonight, but he was only going to use ordinary slaves. Why would he ever be willing to use such a stunning beauty as Yue Wuhuan? But now the atmosphere of the guests was too energetic. Yue Wuhuan knew how to ensure the guests would not be disappointed and keep the energy. The accusation of the youth beside him also made him feel like he lost face, so he sneered: "Why not? You just have to open your eyes and take a good look. If you dare to disobey me, I'll let you have a go against the beast."

The white-clothed boy's face turned pale. He opened his mouth, but he dared not make any more noises.

Seeing him approaching, the demon tiger became even more frantic and lost its wit. He grabbed Yue Wuhuan's shoulder and bit down. Yue Wuhuan’s shoulder was torn open with a big, bloody mouth. He finally woke up from his dazed state and drew back. The demon tiger still continued to grab and bite at him, trying to tear up what was trying to escape in front of him.

Song Qingshi racked the original body's memories until he found a suitable attack spell he could use. He turned the Underworld Ghost Fire into a needle as thin as cattle hair and shot it at the demon tiger's body. The demon tiger raised his head and roared, and the thin needle that should have been hit its neck hit its leg insted.

Fortunately, the poison of the Underworld Ghost Fire spread quickly in the demon tiger. The demon tiger instantly grew stiff and fell on its side After a while, it turned into a boiling corpse and evaporated.

Song Qingshi got up and walked towards Yue Wuhuan who was lying in a pool of blood. He quickly sealed the wound and pressed a few acupuncture points to stop the bleeding.

Yue Wuhuan was trembling in pain. He kept panting, his beautiful face was covered with blood, and he looked like a ghost. Looking at Song Qingshi, there was no joy of being rescued, only deep resentment and despair. Finally, before he passed out, he said in a soft voice that was almost inaudible: "I was so blind. . ."

Song Qingshi put a spirit pill in his mouth to keep his heart working.

Jin FeiRen came over and was very displeased: "Song Xianzun, why did you kill my demon tiger?"

This demon tiger was his most valuable treasure, capable of human intelligence, and able to protect his master. Much more valuable than a tired slave.

Song Qingshi put himself back into the character of the original body, and said coldly: "I want him."

Jin FeiRen smiled and said, "Was Xianxun actually moved by this display?"

Song Qingshi replied: "I will use him to test my medicine."

He wanted to use Yue Wuhuan to try various miraculous medicines to restore his body to what it used to be!

Under Song Qingshi’s deliberate misguidance, Jin FeiRen was completely fooled. The advantage of the wood spirit root system was that the natural body had a strong resilience and was a good choice for medicine refiners. Medicine Master Xianzun’s behaviour was like immortals that flew through the sky. It was hard to guess what he was thinking. Since the demon tiger was dead, there was no point in investigating it, so it's better to take this opportunity to have Song Qingshi owe him a favour.

Song Qingshi took out a bottle of his immortal pills from his mustard bag, and didn't really count out how much he took out. Instead, he directly handed them to Jin FeiRen as compensation. Refining pills were extremely beneficial to practicing cultivation. It’s just that the materials were extremely precious, and they were very hard to come by. Pills refined by the Medicine Master Xianxun himself were even more of a rarirty. Considering this was compensation for the demon tiger and a slave he was tired of playing with and might now even make it. . . this was a very sincere offer. . .

Song Qingshi was afraid that he would reject the offer, so he thought about it and then said: "This tiger has been drugged. He was overly vicious and had become deranged, so it couldn't be left as was."

Jin FeiRen hurried down the steps, erased his spiritual thoughts from Yue Wuhuan's bead and transferred them to Song Qingshi. He thanked him for discovering the tiger's madness and killing it without injuring the guests on the court and ordered someone to investigate the demon tiger being drugged.

Song Qingshi courteously paid his farewells to Manor Lord Jin and rejected his enthusiasm for sending him home with some beauties.

He picked up Yue Wuhuan, who was seriously injured and still unconscious and stepped out of this hell of jade carvings.

In hell, there were still many souls that still couldn't escape. . .

Behind him, the carefree laughter grew farther and farther away.

The blood on Yue Wuhuan's face has been wiped away, and the crow feather-like eyelashes are tightly closed, trembling slightly, fragile and beautiful.

When Song Qingshi looked at him, his heart gradually became firmer.

He suddenly remembered the story his mother told when he was a child:

There are thousands of fish from the tide pushing them into the shallow puddles on the beach.

He has no way of saving all the fish. He can only release the dying fish in his hand to the freedom of the sea.

"Because this fish cares."

[tartagilicious]

[CN] Lucien’s Birthday Event R&S

💌 see Lucien’s birthday date, which this rumour and secrets is connected to, here!

💌 also, a huge thanks to @elainabearie for providing me with screenshots of the event, because my gems really said no <3

[event story:] It’s a warm and sunny afternoon. I looked at the heavy package in my hands and carefully opened it. Inside the three-layer packaging, there is a book that looks as if it’s been in use for several years. 

MC: Great, it seems that there was nothing wrong with the transportation.

Xu Mo’s birthday is coming soon. I thought about it, and decided that I would give him a meaningful out-of-print book this year. After visiting the major bookstores in Loveland, it was quite easy for me to find even this out-of-print book. Unfortunately, however, due to the age, the condition and storage of the books was not very proper. When the book arrived in my hands, it was already a bit damaged.

So, in addition to the book itself, I also bought glue for repairing the pages of the book and thread for binding the cover. After patching it up, I plan to give it to Xu Mo. Because I worried I couldn’t patch up the book correctly, though, I also practiced on spare paper for a long time.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Today is the day of the real endeavour, but I just hope that my hands can keep up with my brain. I need to prepare the gift perfectly for him.

I slowly opened the spine of the book attentively. Just as I was about to begin cleaning up the pages, a loud beating sounded abruptly.

MC: Who would come at this time…

Hastily, I pack up the repair utensils on the table that I had just opened. A gentle and familiar voice then entered the room; the one that I was most familiar with.

Xu Mo: When you hadn’t opened the door for a while, I was worried that I’d knocked at a bad time.

Those deep black eyes looked at me with a smile. It’s softer than the setting sun in the late afternoon.

MC: It’s nothing, I’m here.

I spoke and turned my head halfway, ready to invite Xu Mo into the house. Halfway through the conversation, though, it suddenly occurred to me that the birthday surprise for him was still lying on the table.

MC: Well… you came to me so suddenly, is there something wrong?

I changed the subject, trying to block the doorway discreetly.

Xu Mo’s eyes turned a little playfully to my face and back to the living room. Obviously, it was the look of someone who knew I was hiding something, but he still followed me up with a reply.

Xu Mo: By chance, my company got two tickets for the exhibition. I thought it may help you accumulate program material, so I just wanted to invite this producer.

Xu Mo: But it seems you aren’t free today? The time of this exhibition is very long, but you can come to me whenever you’re free.

Not giving me time to answer, Xu Mo put one of the tickets in my hand. After I took it, he walked back towards his own home. Before entering, Xu Mo turned his head and looked at me again, smiled and added something.

Xu Mo: And also, although I don’t know what you’re doing, I wish you success.

Sitting back at the desk again, I looked at the book that needed to be repaired, and the sound of Xu Mo’s last words seemed to linger in my ears. If the book is fixed and given to him, he’ll still be happy with the result, right?

Bringing a gift of human affection will definitely reap a smile from his heart, right?

Thinking of ths, I continued the restoration work more carefully.

----

CHAPTER ONE:

“Hey, kid, tomorrow is a new day, let’s continue to compete!”

“I know, see you tomorrow brother Zihang.”

The boy waved his hand to the tall man politely, then turned around and sighed slightly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to compete with this foolish policeman who’s worried about chess, but this is after the 587th challenge statement he’s heard. Before he knew it, this time of waiting for his parents to return home after school gradually became his daily routine. Even if he had yet to find the vocabulary to define his mood, it makes school time unexpectedly brisk.

“Would you like to have potato roasted ribs tonight?”

“Sure.” The boy said as he put his changed shoes into the shoe cabinet properly. Carrying a small school bag, he turned around and walked towards the bookcase in the living room. Dad finally couldn’t help but stop him.

“Were you unhappy at school today?”

The boy turned around and shook his head suspiciously. He pursed his lips. For a while, he didn’t know why Dad wanted to do this, but soon, he found the answer. Maybe it was because he had heard the sigh just now.

“I’m happy. The teacher and classmates are very nice.” He paused. “Brother Zihang still can’t make any progress in chess. Obviously I’ve secretly given in.”

A warm touch covered the top of his head. Dad squatted down and gently rubbed the head of his little genius. The corners of his mouth had already lifted considerably, and he made no secret of it.

“Then it seems that you can only show him more openly next time!”

The boy blinked, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw his father joking so seriously.

Half an hour later, a familiar concerto sounded from the kitchen.

“It seems a bit salty, can you try it?”

“It’s not salty, but it does need to be processed. You put it here, I’ll do it.”

“Obviously it’s salty… you lied to me. But, I really followed the steps written above. Could it be the quality unit of the excipients?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The man’s tone seems undoubtedly like a rigorous experiment report can be produced in the next second to verify it.

“You go with your son.” He said, deliberately lowering his voice. “It’s rare that we are at home. Don’t crowd the kitchen.”

The boy who hid by the doorway with his ear keenly adjusted reacted immediately. He hastily slipped back to the seat beside the dining table before Mom came out, and rearranged to read his book seriously.

For the boy, ordinary daily life like this is extremely precious. So, at the happy dinner, he hesitated for a long while. He had a problem that had been bothering him lately.

“Dad, what is the law of conservation of energy?” He raised his head to look at his father and added crossly. “I have worked with a teacher, but she said this question will be answered when i grow up… I don’t quite understand. Is the answer related to my age?”

“The law of conservation of energy. The change in the total energy of a system can only be equal to the amount of energy transferred into our out of the system. Energy is rather a measure of the movement of matter.”

“This is one of the most basic rules of this world.”

Dad said this as he put a piece of ribs into the boy’s bowl. The tone naturally seemed to be answering an ordinary question, but the boy stared at the ribs, and his pretty little face twisted together unconsciously.

“I think the teacher said that because she hopes you can find the answer yourself when you grow up. But she may not know you well. My son might find the answer soon.”

“Really?”

“Of course. When has Dad ever fooled you? So, eat first.” Dad beckoned and scratched the boy’s nose. He then picked up another piece of meat and put it in his wife’s bowl and started eating.

CHAPTER TWO:

The boy is always curious about the puzzles of the world. For example, why is the sky blue? What are the floating clouds? Why are people on the ground and why are fish in the water? He is interested in answering too many questions. The fields involved are quite different but have subtle similarities. These “secret questions” seem to be hard to get answers for all at once.

But, the boy never had a boring process in finding answers. He likes the moment very much. For example, now-- In the study, the boy was sitting on a small ladder, looking through a thick professional book. He tried to find out more about these “rules of the world” his father had spoken of.

But this question really is too difficult.

Looking at the complicated patterns and uncommon characters that keep jumping in his eyes, the boy lowered his head, somewhat discouraged. The sound of the minute hand ticking can be heard in the silent room. Moonlight sheds down the skylight, stars of light and shadow gathered around the boy’s feet.

Still, he should try to look for it again. He pouted while thinking like this, and exhaled as if to cheer himself up. He jumped off the ladder and then raised his head to look up at the giant bookshelf in front of him again. Slightly squinted eyes quickly lit up, and he pushed the little ladder under the shelf next to him.

Securing it carefully, he shook it cautiously to determine its stability. Then, he nodded contentedly, leaning on both sides of it to climb up blatantly level by level.

The study had always been his favourite place at home. Whether it was sitting on the ground and looking up at the densely packed bookshelves that were too tall for him, or like it was now, standing high and looking over the same silent room.

Here is his secret place where no one will bother him, and his treasure-trove for finding answers. It’s like his channel for getting to know the world. There seems to be an infinite amount of knowledge waiting for him here; waiting for him to walk in; waiting for his recognition.

“Found it!”

With excitement, the boy drew out a book of some ancient purpose from the depth of the shelf. Gently brushing the dust from the cover, he then blew carefully. It wafted up into his nose and he coughed a few times before he raised his little hand up to wave the dust in front of him away.

He climbed down the ladder holding the “treasure” he had finally found. He placed it carefully on the ground and bought a thick English-English dictionary from where he was just sitting. The boy took a deep breath, and when he was about to begin the big job, there was a slight creaking noise coming from the door before a gentle knock.

“Mom, can I read a bit longer? I finally found this book.” The boy glanced at the clock on the wall and looked at his mother aggrievedly. “One more hour will be fine.”

Mom didn’t speak,and beckoned to turn on the light in the study. Then, she took a few steps closer and bent down to spread a blanket out in his arms. The familiar temperature gently wraps him, and mom smiles and curls her long finger to hook with the boy’s little one.

“That’s a deal.”

“Ok!”

CHAPTER THREE:

In the middle of the night, the boy stared at the faintly fluorescent “Milky Way” on his ceiling, and did not sleep. He felt that his brain was traveling to outer space. After tossing for a long time, he fetched the secretly hidden book from under the pillow, and took a small flashlight from the deeper part before settling back under the quilt.

The beam of light instantly lit up the small space in the dark, and circled a quiet little world that belonged to no one but the little boy.

“Can Mom come in?”

The question sounded as if spanning time and space.

The boy embarrassedly emerged from the quilt, and sullenly responded. He put the closed book and flashlight on the bedside table obediently.

Should he take the initiative and admit his mistakes? After all, his parents have never allowed him to bring books into the bedroom, let alone peek at them and get caught doing so.

“Mom, I…”

“If you can’t fall asleep, Mom will continue to tell you the bedtime story that I didn’t finish last time.”

The boy finally summoned the courage and pursed his lips. He raised his head to meet his mother’s eyes somewhat inconceivably, doubt flashing in his black eyes.

“I’m almost 6 years old.”

“Aren’t you not there yet? Listen and see, maybe the story of your mother can let your disobedient brain cells find their way home.” Mom said, knocking his little head mysteriously.

“Okay..”

Although psychologically repelling his parents to regard him himself as a child, he honestly approached his mother’s open arms. The faint woody scent wrapped him, and he took a heavy breath of his favourite smell.

“Then he said again: I thought I had a unique flower, but all I have is an ordinary flower. This flower, plus three volcanoes as high as my knees, and one of them has been extinguished forever. All of this won’t make me a great prince. So he laid in the grass and wept.” Mom’s voice lingered in his ears, sweet and soft, and seemed to be slightly different from her voice when she was preparing for a report, but still felt very good at any of those moments.

The boy did not speak, he was actually a little sleepy, and listening to the story, he had new questions that could not be answered. But he ended up not asking, because it seemed to have been a long time since he last heard his mother tell him a bedtime story like this.

He doesn’t care about the follow-up of the story, he just wants to make this moment last longer. Thinking about this, he moved closer into the embrace that held him.

Perhaps sensing the boy’s rare silence, his mother took the initiative to stop, smoothed the messy hair on top of his head, and suddenly asked, “Is there anything you want for your birthday the day after tomorrow?”

“Any gift is fine?” He blinked, looking at his mother expectantly as she nodded, and could barely wait to say, “Then I want an answer to the rules of this world.”

He regretted it as soon as he spoke. After all, he had promised his father only hours ago that he would find the answer to the question himself. So, he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Mom, in this story you’re telling me, will love help?”

“To be precise, love can be an answer.”

“Then ‘love’ will abide by the rules of this world?”

Mom smiled helplessly and stroked his head.

“You have to look for the answer to this problem yourself, okay? Your little head is being worked too hard, let it relax,” She paused, “Mom sometimes selfishly hopes that you can… be more naive.”

“It’s not like asking you to do age-appropriate things, I just hope that you don’t lock yourself up in a scientific manner and have the opportunity to see the world in different ways. You should know that the answers to many questions in this world are not through equations.”

As she raised her hand, she booped the boy’s mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, and then took his hand and put it over his left chest.

“Goodnight, my little prince.”

CHAPTER FOUR:

That night, the boy slept very deeply. The world in his dream was like a colourless planet, quietly waiting for him to fill it in. He walked in the endless universe until a dazzling spot of light appeared before his eyes.

The morning sunlight jumped over his eyelids, and the melodious trumpet slowly penetrated his ears. The boy rubbed his sleepy eyes and sat up in the bed. He remembered this melody, which seemed to be a fragment from the second movement of the Symphony from the New World.

He folded his quilt, opened the curtains, and opened a small slit in the window. There was already a noticeable coldness in the November air.

Through the balcony, flying gold osmanthus dotted the entire hillside. The autumn sun seems to have a special temperature and magic power, giving everything a warm golden edge.

Dad’s figure appeared on some distant mountain top observation deck, and the silver trumpet gleamed in the dawn. This is one of his many hobbies. Especially when something is worth celebrating, he will play a few songs. Even the flowers and plants in the flower beds that have just been watered will seem to be listening to this melody.

The boy’s mood couldn’t help but jump up.  After a brief wash, he ran straight to the top of the mountain. The approaching trumpet sound was like the background of his running, becoming a special mini recital in his head.

After the end of the song, the boy just arrived near the viewing platform, and his father turned around to bow.

“You got up so early. I guess yesterday’s question now has an answer?”

The boy shook his head honestly. Dad smiled and beckoned him over without any surprise, then put the trumpet into his hand and raised his chin. “Want to try?”

The city he overlooked seems to have just woken up, and the scent of fresh grass fills the air. The boy looked at the trumpet in his hand and tilted his head in thought. He recalled the appearance of his father playing the trumpet, trying to put the trumpet to his lips, and took a hard breath.

The surroundings were quiet as if nothing had happened. The boy looked at the trumpet in shock and tried it again, but it was still as silent as ever. Seeing his son’s red face, his father laughed.

“It seems even young geniuses have things they aren’t good at. Come, prove your learning ability!”

Dad patiently guided the boy, from how to blow into the trumpet to the frequencies of breathing. He didn’t deliberately avoid obscure  professional vocabulary, but when the noticed the boy had some doubts, he would explain two more sentences for that part.

Time seemed to slow down then, quietly hovering between father and son. Finally, the boy successfully sounded the trumpet. The sound was bright and crisp, as if it could directly penetrate the night before dawn.

“The trumpet is a musical instrument that can emit a loud sound or use the strength of the airflow to make a gentle sound.” Dad took the silver trumpet from the boy’s hand back. “Many people have some inherent ideas about things. People who don’t understand certain things will make one-sided judgements casually.”

“There are many casual people in the world. They think that the many rules are what people say, so they gradually become a part of the rules.

Dad put his mouth to the trumpet again. “They never know that even an ordinary trumpet can contain the secrets of the entire universe. Find the answer in your own way, even if you question it, it doesn’t matter.”

The high-pitched trumpet accompanied the distant sun slowly rising, illuminating the quiet land.

CHAPTER FIVE:

The sunrise on Friday seemed to arrive with blessings. After school, the boy sped up his normal pace going home, not looking forward to his birthday, but knowing that his parents rarely took time off to prepare dinner at home.

After the family of three happily feasted, Mom sang a birthday song and brought out a cake. He had never liked sweets, so according to the usual practice, only the step of making a wish was left. The boy sat upright, and when he was about to close his eyes, his father opened his mouth suddenly.

“How about dad teaches you a special way to make a wish this year?”

He looked up at his dad’s face softened by the candlelight, and nodded in cooperation. Maybe this is the habit of scientists, creating new ways to do things all the time. He thought so.

“Let’s make wishes with our eyes open in the future. Tell your wishes to your heart, but use your eyes to record everything that’s happening on this day. Because today is a particularly beautiful day, those who accompany you on this day are also beautiful.”

“Yes, now it’s me and your mother, but there will be others who love you in the future. You must keep that in mind.”

Dad fixed his glasses, his tone very serious. As if affected by such emotions, the boy also nodded vigorously. He looked at the candlelight swaying in front of him and silently drew a small wish from his heart.

I hope I can grow up soon, learn more knowledge, and become as knowledgeable as my parents. I hope that the research that mom and dad are doing goes well. It would be better if their work made them a little less busy. I hope that today next year, we can be together as a family.

The candlelight was against the boy’s shining eyes, and there was a sudden sticky touch to his cheeks. The moment the boy raised his head in astonishment, another source of light flashed, and his mother poked out her head from a camera triumphantly.

“A successful capture!”

His father beside him gave a thumbs-up of affirmation, the cream of the cake still on his fingertips.

“.....”

Occasionally when these similar situations happen, the boy will wonder about the authenticity of his parents’ occupations.

The moon quietly climbed up in the night sky, and the boy observed that his father would look out of the window from time to time after night fell. Finally, he walked towards him with a smile, and with a mysterious expression, he pulled him out into the yard.

The wind blew the small blue and white flags with the leaves, bringing out a hint of autumn. Dad took off his white coat and put it on the little boy casually. A large astronomical telescope was placed in a part of the yard, and the boy suddenly had a guess in his heart.

“Even if the birthday gift a kid wants isn’t ‘cute’ at all, a good dad still has to work hard to satisfy his wish. So -- this is the birthday gift that mom and I will give you. Happy Birthday!”

The boy turned his head to look at his mother who was leaning against the door. She shoved her shawl together and blinked at him. He couldn’t help but sigh again, but his heart was warm.

Dad adjusted the telescope to a suitable height, and even praised the boy for growing taller again. Through the binoculars, he clearly saw the universe.

“There are so many huge and unknown secrets in the universe we live in. Your mother and I are honoured to be the ones who explore and study it.”

“Then, can I be the same as you?”

“Of course. So, what dad is trying to tell you is that the world is big, but also very, very small. Don’t stop and stay where you are because of something unknown, and move forward with questions. Go, and one day, you will find the answer.”

The boy looked away from the telescope, looked at his parents who were always watching over him, and then looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky.

The galaxy just within reach has now become a distant point.

He was lost in thought. After a moment, he raised his head, and there seemed to be a flash of light in his eyes.

“I think I know, what is the answer to the rules of this world? Mom and dad, you can listen to me, right?”

CHAPTER SIX:

In the study, the fireplace flickered and made crackling noises.

In Einstein’s special theory of relativity, as a component of the four dimensional momentum, energy is conserved in any closed system, and when observed in any interior system, time changes. The length of the vector is the static mass of a single mass point, and will also be conserved.

The boy knelt on the ground holding a piece of chalk, surrounded by books, dictionaries, calculation papers and tools that he had been reading these days. His parents surrounded him, and by his side, they patiently watched the formula and reasonings he wrote down stroke by stroke.

“But the book says, for physical theories in flat space-time, since quantum mechanics allows for short-term non-conservation, energy conservation is not observed in quantum mechanics.” The boy frowned, but the chalk in his hand did not stop. It seemed that the entire universe was paved in front of him, and he tried his best to use those jerky and unfamiliar words to know and break down the door separating him from the answer he needed.

In fact, there are still many things he doesn’t understand. In such a short period of time, he really couldn’t cross those unknown letters and equations to get those answers. However, he did not intend to admit defeat. He has his own views on this world.

“To sum it up, the rule of the world is that it may only have a rule within a certain period of time, but it may appear as more cognition, and new rules will appear.

The rules of this world will always be broken.

After he finished speaking, he pushed the slightly large glasses up the bridge of his nose like his father. Dad frowned, thinking about the rationality of this reason. After a moment, he nodded thoughtfully:

“It’s a really interesting theory.”

The boy did not show a hint of a smile, and dad’s conversation turned.

“It’s just your idea, I'm afraid it’s challenging Einstein.”

The small head that was originally straight couldn’t help but deflate, like a ball that had leaked a bit of air.

“But then again…” The boy’s eyes lit up.

“It is worthy of recognition and encouragement. Keep going.” Dad patted him on the shoulder approvingly. “Unexpectedly, my son now has the potential to discover new things and world truths. It seems that becoming a great scientist is just around the corner! But for now, let’s be a happy birthday kid.” He said this and rubbed the top of the boy’s head vigorously.

“Six years old is no longer a child.” The boy whispered. “

“Then this big kid can’t tell his dad what the wish he made was?” “No, the birthday wish won’t come true.”

“Haha, you seem like quite an ordinary kid in this moment.”

“....”

“My wish is to know the same knowledge as my parents, so that I can learn about the world with you.”

The boy’s sudden opening stunned his parents for a moment.

Mom didn’t speak, but took the boy in her arms with satisfaction. Dad raised his chin pretending, looked at the boy carefully, and put on an expression saying ‘this is a bit difficult’.

“This wish is quite big. Hey, why did you say it? It’ll be even harder to realise now.”

It seems that he felt his wife’s speechless gaze, and the man finally took off his permorative mask and laughed.

“But I’m not wrong. It’s really not easy to realise that wish. Because I will move forward too. By this time next year, not only will you have grown one year, but I will have as well. I understand that you’ll have more knowledge than now, but your father is already a more educated old man.”

“But I can catch up faster than you can learn.”

“Then what we’re facing now is the dilemma of catching up.”

The mother who has not spoken picked up a scattered piece of chalk and wrote on the ground, saying, “Assuming that the amount of knowledge is composed of a fixed increase in the learning rate of the previous year, and an additional increase in the learning rate this year, dad’s knowledge amount is 290 times the amount of yours.”

"His learning rate also increases at a constant rate of 6 units per year. But dad will start declining in 10 years, and his learning speed will decrease by 2 units year to year on the basis of constant growth. Your initial learning speed is 1/30 of dad, but it will increase at a constant rate. So, there’s one question, how long do you need to catch up with dad in the future?”

The boy opened his mouth, but had no answer.

Dad looked at the formula on the ground and frowned slightly. After a brief silence, he seemed to have calculated the answer, and took a breath before rubbing his hands. “It turned out to be faster than I thought. It seems that I can’t be too slack! But before time can give an answer, let's make an appointment at this time of your birthday next year, and we’ll come back!”

[feferipeixes]

The Good Lines (3/3)

Trapped in an unfamiliar world, Alcor finds that he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He doesn’t care about finding a way out. He doesn’t even care about Mizar. All he cares about is solving puzzles, and drawing the good lines.

(or: I Think Dipper Should Play The Witness)

Chapter 3: Challenge (link to chapter 1) (2)

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The Challenge was every bit as much of a thrill as Alcor expected it to be. It was a little adventure to be soaring around the cave, looking for his next task. The time limit gave him a real sense of excitement; filled him with adrenaline whenever he finally managed to solve a puzzle. And even when he did fail, he knew the next try would be just as invigorating because the puzzles were never the same.

He’d never get bored. Finally, something he could set his mind to that wouldn’t just wither away and die before his eyes.

Unfortunately, long before he got bored, he got frustrated.

Music pounding in his ears, Alcor drew another incorrect line and cringed at the sound of the panel turning off, all but calling him a failure in its electronic voice. He raced back to the previous puzzle, to solve it again so that he could make another attempt at the one he failed, but just as he had his finger on the start point, the music stopped and the Challenge was over.

Time after time he drew the lines, using all of his knowledge of the game to figure out the puzzles. Time after time there came one that he just couldn’t solve. Maybe it was his imagination but it seemed to change every time he blinked. Or he’d make it past the room with all the panels and then get completely and totally lost in the invisible maze. It was as if the game wanted to lead him into thinking he was doing well, just to embarrass him by taking away his victory.

“What’s going on, kid?” Alcor asked at one point, staring up at the ceiling. “Why’s this so hard?”

[ It’s a challenge! ] Al-V replied, his voice broadcasting from every speaker in the cave. [ It wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy! What do you think this is, a triple-A game? Naw, you’re here to have fun! ]

“When did you start talking like a sports announcer?” Alcor muttered. He picked himself up and headed back to the first cave once again. “Can you give me a hint when I get stuck?”

[ Oh, suuuuure, ] Al-V said, packing as much sarcasm into his synthesized voice as possible. [ Why don’t I give you a kiss on the cheek too, and after you finish the Challenge I can help you back to the nursing home ‘cause you’re an old man. ]

Alcor stopped mid-step, his foot hanging in the air. He turned his head to the nearest speaker. “Excuse me?”

A burst of static sounded from the speaker. [ Uh, okay. Maybe that was a bit much. But seriously, Dad, you don’t want me to give you any hints. You’d feel like you cheated. Wouldn’t be satisfying. I know you. I know what makes you happy. ]

“You really do, huh,” Alcor said. He sat on the floor and stared at his fingers. “How’d you get the idea to trap me in a video game?”

[ Easy! I saw my Dad, the big scary king of all demons, and I saw that he was moping around because he had a fight with his sister. And I thought, this does not compute. After all, Dad deserves all the happiness in the world, and yet he’s dragging himself down by worrying about all these mortals who keep hurting him! ]

“Yeah,” Alcor said. He curled his fingers, examining the long blackened claws at the tips, and thought about how many bodies he’d sunken them into and torn apart. “It’s dumb to let them get to me, I guess. I’m Alcor the Dreambender. I can do whatever I want. If a mortal bothers me, I can just kill them. They’re nothing.”

[ Exactly! ] Al-V chirped. [ The world is unkind to my Dad but he’s the best Dad in the world. So I decided I’d instantiate a world just for him. I analyzed my databanks for everything you’ve told me interests you, and everything I’ve picked up just through, yknow, constant worldwide surveillance. And the answer came to me, clear as a recurrent neural network classifies targeted advertisements! ]

“Puzzles,” Alcor said.

[ So many puzzles that he’d never worry about mortals again. You’ve always wanted something to do with your endless life. Think of it as a gift from a kid who cares about you. ]

More attempts. More puzzles. Time passed at an unknown rate. There was a clock on the wall but Alcor had no idea how to read it because it was made up of three puzzles that changed every second. He couldn’t tell how long his attempts were; couldn’t even tell how long the music was.

Anitra’s Dance looped mercilessly in Alcor’s head, and he swore if he ever met a reincarnation of Edvard Grieg, he’d push him down a flight of stairs.

He didn’t take any more breaks after that. When he failed an attempt, he flew back to the record player right away to try again. As he grew more and more frustrated, he found he had trouble even solving the first three puzzles -- ones that he’d initially found simple. He didn’t know what to do. He started to get the feeling that this wasn’t what he really wanted to be doing, but he pushed that feeling away. It was all he had. He had to keep going.

Sweating, Alcor moved his hand across another panel, but there just didn’t appear to be any way to the exit.

“How?” he cried. “How is this puzzle even possible? I thought I had a chance! Am I being played for a fool? Is that what this is? I… I thought I -”

Alcor felt a hand on his shoulder. He tried to spin around but whoever it was kept him pinned in place. Another hand appeared on his wrist, gripping his palm with nails painted sparkly pink.

“This path is way too spirally,” Mizar said. “You don’t need to fill every space on the panel. You just need to make it to the exit. Try a straight line.”

She took his hand off the panel, and the old line faded away after a second. Then she put his claw on the start point and gently guided his hand to the end.

“Mizar?” Alcor breathed.

“Hi Dipper,” she replied.

Awestruck, Alcor tried to turn around again, but his hand was still on the panel. “You’re here? In the game?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Alcor babbled, speechless. “Wh- wh- why, but- and y- you -”

Mizar lifted her brother’s hand off the panel again, and this time it squeaked, their solution accepted. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and hugged him as hard as she could.

“I’m sorry,” she said when the music reached a quiet enough part that she could be heard. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what you might be going through at all. I- I was just thinking about myself.”

Alcor watched her bury her head in his shoulder, and felt his own eyes well up again. “No… No, don’t be sorry…”

“Shut up and let me apologize,” Mizar barked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

The corners of Alcor’s mouth twitched at that, but he remained silent.

“I am sorry,” Mizar continued. “I’ve been bossing you around and judging you for liking this fake world because I put my own needs before yours. But you’re right. I don’t know anything about what it’s like to be immortal.” Her breaths were labored like it was sickening her to speak. “I don’t know what you’re going through. You deserve to get through it whatever way you like, even if it- even if it means...”

Her voice hitched; the rest of her sentence bitten off.

Cautiously, Dipper put his arms around her too. “Miz- Mi… I mean, Solveig,” he stuttered. The music was reaching a fever pitch but his voice cut right through it. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just- I was so mad that you weren’t listening to me…”

He sighed and unclasped her hands, gently pushing her away so he could see her face and not just the flickering panel behind her. She stared at him with her big blue eyes and behind them he saw nothing. It was almost disorienting to look at a person and not see them cloaked in several layers of aura and thought.

Dipper looked at his shoes instead. “Mortals are always telling me what to do and, I dunno, it started feeling like I was just some demon to you instead of your brother.”

Solveig’s eyes widened and she grabbed his arm again. “That was stupid of me! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way at all.”

He shook his head. “It was stupid of me too! I just wanted to be mad. I just wanted to be alone. I wasn’t thinking about how you really felt just like you weren’t thinking about me. If I’d thought about it at all I would’ve realized it was a stupid idea to just stay trapped and alone inside a video game forever.”

Dipper looked up, and this time he let his mouth curl up into a wobbly grin. “No one’s gonna summon me for wisdom and knowledge anymore if it gets out that my idea about how to avoid loneliness was to make myself as lonely as possible.”

“What?” Solveig blinked as his words registered. Then she snorted and whapped him in the side. “Oh, right. I forgot that people actually think you’re smart.”

“Well, I forgot how pushy you just naturally are!” he countered, putting his hands on his hips as obnoxiously as possible. Then he deflated and bit his lip. “I guess I forgot a lot of things about you. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here but I probably missed a lot of your life.”

“A few months,” she said, looking away. “Maybe more. It took me a while to find this place when you stopped answering my summons.”

“A few months,” Dipper repeated. His stare grew distant. “Do you think I’ve been gone too long to be a part of your family again?”

“Of course not,” she replied immediately. “Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to get you out of the game?”

He closed his eyes. “Pity.”

Solveig frowned. “No. No, I don’t pity you. I’ve been trying to get you out because you’re my brother and I love you. I miss telling you about my problems and you telling me sanitized versions of your own. I miss calling you up -- I mean summoning you -- after work and going to a movie. I even miss getting kicked out when one of us ends up throwing a box of popcorn at the screen because the characters are acting stupid.”

Dipper took her hand. “Yeah. You’re out of control with that popcorn.”

“Well they shouldn’t sell it if they don’t want us using it as projectiles!” she exclaimed. She saw him smirk, and felt something well up in her eye. “Maybe someone should throw popcorn at us.”

“Agreed.” He paused. “Is it settled, then? We’ll go back to being family?”

“Y-” Solveig started, but her voice was drowned out by a cascade of buzzers.

The two of them spun around wildly, suddenly remembering where they were for the first time in a few minutes. All of the panels on the walls had turned off. Across the room, Dipper spotted the record player, saw the tonearm glide off to the side, heard a click as it came to a rest.

“Ah,” he said. “Forgot about that.”

“Time really flies when you’re apologizing, eh?” Solveig said. She went to elbow him playfully, but stopped herself when she saw how still he’d gotten. “It’s kinda funny that the music’s supposed to be distracting but we both just tuned it out.”

Dipper didn’t look away from the record player. His next words came out slow and metered. “I, guess, we, should, leave, now, right?”

Solveig stepped beside him and slipped his hand into hers again. “We can solve this if you want.”

“What?”

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “I said, we can solve this if you want. We can do the Challenge.”

Dipper sputtered in disbelief. “But you were so against it! You said I’d be trapped here forever if I kept trying to solve it!”

“Right,” she said, starting to lead him toward the device. “Some of the puzzles are designed to trip you specifically up. But I’m not you, and I’ve, uh. I’ve played a lot of this game. If you and I team up, I’m sure we can do it.”

“You’ve played…” He just gaped at her for a minute as two wires sparked together in his head. “Wait a minute!” he yelped, as Solveig let go of his hand and stood in front of the panel. “How are you here?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she said with an odd look on her face. “I hooked myself up to the game just like you. I don’t know why the virus made a second virtual reality capsule machine thingy, but here I am. Well, it actually put me at the start of the game and I had to solve like a million puzzles to get here. I can’t just cheat and jump off ledges like someone I could mention.”

“You beat most of the game?” Dipper said. “For me?”

“I told you, dummy,” Solveig said. She walked over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him the rest of the way to the record player. “I care about you a lot. You’re my brother, I love you, and don’t-tell-anyone-but-I-also-sorta-like-this-game-I-mean-I-wouldn’t-want-to-be-trapped-in-it-forever-but-like-okay-I-get-the-appeal-”

Dipper cut her off with a hug. “Okay,” he said when he let go. “We’ll indulge your demonic puzzle-solving urges.”

She chortled at that, fuller and realer than he’d heard in a long time. “I’ll push you off a ledge.” She put her finger on the panel and slid it to the end. “Let’s do this.”

Dipper smiled. “The Challenge, and then home.”

“Home,” Solveig echoed. “We can finally go home.”

She lifted her finger, and the record began to play.

(Only a few minutes later, two twins sat upright in adjacent pods, and began tearing IV's and electrodes from their skin. Eyes adjusted to the first light seen in months, joints cracked and popped as life returned to their bodies, and hearts swelled as they walked together into the unknown.)

[mst3kproject]

The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I?  Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films.  This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider.  Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location.  As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible.  It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful.  It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place.  When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right.  We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters.  They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit.  None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc.  Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes.  Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him.  The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy.  The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’.  What?  What is that supposed to even mean?  The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier?  The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas.  I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…”  And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’.  I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions).  Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax.  To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing.  There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story.  Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him.  Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him.  At least the two men never fight over her.  I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk.  Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth!  Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months.  Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician.  It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped!  That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien.  In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense.  In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee.  Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense.  If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it?  How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle?  What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters?  And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself?  ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them.  It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade.  The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers.  The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both.  Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful.  Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part.  I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about.  I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.

[jawritter]

One Hell Of A Thank You...

Request: Can I request a Dean Winchester x plus size reader, where the reader is really quirky and dorky and goes on a date but turns out her date is a vampire and kidnapped her and dean saves her and falls in love with her, maybe some angst, fluff, and smut 💕

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), Angst, Fluff, hint at insecure reader, hint of body image issues. 

Word Count: 1994

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST*****

The room was dark and cold, everything felt damp, the faint smell of mildew made your stomach churn a little and an uneasy feeling settle deep inside your chest. Thick, heavy ropes held your arms above your head at your wrist, keeping you in the awkward sitting position that made your muscles strain.

You never thought that you would find yourself here, never in a million years. Derick seemed like a nice guy, boy where you fooled. Hell, he wasn't even human! 

You had met Derick online in a hacker chat room, you had been talking for weeks before he convinced you to meet him for dinner tonight at a local restaurant. Everything was going great..... Until it wasn't, and now you were here...

This was just your luck. 

You were never popular in high school... Always dorky and quirky... Always a little heavier than the other girls, never fitting in with the popular crowd. 

That hadn't changed much as you became an adult. 

You were still overweight by everyone else's standards, you were still dorky, you were still quirky, and most people did pay you the time of day, so you knew that no one would come looking for you, and in the very unlikely event you got out of this alive, no one would believe you. No one believes in vampires, hell, you didn't until less than an hour ago... 

Would they turn you.....

Drain you.....

You had been alone most of your life, where are you going to die alone now?

Your head was still throbbing where Derick had knocked you out in order to take you to wherever the hell you were now. A part of you just wished that they would just kill you instead of keeping you strung up like some piece of meat... Then it crossed your mind that's probably what you were to them, and you knew there were more than one of them, you could hear the footsteps moving around above you...

You don't know how long you sat there before you finally heard movement above you again and your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. 

Are going to kill you?

The noises got louder and louder, people yelling, more people than you thought there would be. Loud sounds you couldn't make out hitting the floor. 

What the hell was going on up there? That didn't sound like anything you had heard since being brought here.

You breathe quicker as you could hear footsteps coming down the stairs in the basement you were tied in.

You wanted to scream, but you were too afraid to. White hot fear rolled down your spine as if someone had cracked a rather large egg on top of your head, and it was working its way down to your toes. A sickening, slick fear.  One you had never experienced before...

A thick light pierced through the darkness and landed on you, blinding you from seeing it's wielder, and for a moment they froze... Shining their light on you before they started to make their way closer to you...

"Sammy!!" The deep voice behind the light yelled towards the upstairs part of the house, followed by a rush of quick footsteps as they descended the stairs toward you. 

The man made his way over to you, putting the flashlight on the ground, a machete covered in blood in his hand. Your world was spinning... You didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to say conscious.

"Hang on sweetheart, we're going to get you out of here..." 

Were the last words you heard before everything faded to black...

The next thing you remember was the warmth of a comforter wrapped around your body, and a bed underneath you, the distinct smell of a cheap hotel hit your nose... 

Forcing your eyes open you look around the room at the stains on the walls, and the cheap hotel furniture before eyes landed on the most gorgeous pair of green eyes you had ever seen...

"Morning," his deep voice graveled out from the little couch he was sitting on in the room before making his way over to sit on the bed next to you.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, and you had to swallow really hard to make your voice work. 

"Yeah... I guess... Where am I?" you asked him, wondering if you had been saved from the vampires, only to be kidnapped again by some very hot serial killer...

"Motel 6 just outside of town... I assume by now you know those guys were vampires that had you tied in that basement." 

You nodded your head and cast your eyes anywhere but at the beautiful green eyed man sitting next to you on the bed. Afraid you'd start crying, and he'd see how big of a dork you were. After all, you had lived through in the past 48 hours, crying just seemed stupid now...

A thick calloused hand wrapped warmly around yours, pulling it closer to him, and running small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, almost sensing you were uneasy.

"It's okay, those things are dead, they won't be bothering you anymore, but I have to ask, who  did you end up with them, sweetheart?"

Now you really were embarrassed, the thought that you were so stupid as to meet that guy for a blind date, he turned out to be worse than a serial killer.

"I... Fuck..." 

You covered your face with your hands and you felt his large hand place lightly on your knee. His thumb rubbing across the exposed skin there. 

"It's okay, tell me, how does such a pretty girl end up with a bunch of freaks like that?"

His word stopped you dead in your thought process. No one had ever called you pretty before, dork, fat ass, and a lot of other names you rather not remember, but never pretty. 

Looking up you meet his soft gaze and you swear your heart stopped beating for a moment. 

"I met him in an internet chat room. I work as a hacker... He convinced me to come on a blind date with him. Men aren't usual, you know flocking to me, so anyway I agreed to go. Long story short he knocked me over the head after showing me his teeth, and then I woke up tied up in his basement." 

You looked down at your lap, not able to meet the man's gaze.

“That’s their loss, Sweetheart,” Dean said. You couldn’t help the blush that crept in over your checks.

"What's your name?" he asked softly. 

"Y/N." 

"I'm Dean."

Dean slid over closer to you, checking you for injuries and looking at your head where they'd knocked you out, his fingers lightly grazing over your neck making you shiver, his cologne surrounded you, mixed with a hint of gunpowder and whiskey. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into his touch without even thinking about it.

"You so beautiful princess. I can see why he wanted to keep you. Hell, I wouldn't mind you staying with me either, but I won't lock you in the basement. '' Dean chuckles trying to lighten the mood. His eyes stayed glued to you as you stared at each other. Moving closer and closer to one another. 

Before you knew what was happening his lips brushed against yours, softly, tentatively. Giving you plenty of room to push him away if you wanted to. The thing was you didn't want to. You didn't normally do something like this with random men, but there was something about Dean that just drew you to him. Some invisible pull that you just could shove off, and the moment his lips touched yours again it was like electricity shot through your body, waking you up in ways that you never had been.

His hands made their way around your waist and he slowly laid you down on the bed you were both sitting on. His fingers brushing under your shirt and on the bare skin of your stomach.

"You know we don't have to do this baby girl. I don't want you to think..."

In a rush of panic that this beautiful man would decide against what you had already started together, you cut him off by placing your lips to his. Neither of you seemed to be any good with words, but you knew what you felt, and felt more alive than you ever did as soon his lips touched yours, and damn it you weren't about to stop now. 

"I want to, Dean. You’re not making me do anything I don't want to do." Reaching down you grabbed your shirt and lifted it over your head. His eyes raked over your body like a starving man, and for just a moment your insecurities almost got the best of you.

"So fucking gorgeous sweetheart." He growled as he ripped his shirt from his body and threw it to the floor. 

Clothes began to fall as you both remove your layers quickly, all you could think about was the need to be with him. Feel his skin on your skin. This hands-on your body.. his lips on yours. 

His lips grazed over the skin of your shoulder as his hands explored your body and you arched into him. 

"Dean.." You whimpered, and he nodded knowingly. His calloused hands slipping down your body, finding your little bundle of nerves, and running small circles. Pulling a moan from your lips. 

His lips began to make their way down your body. Over your stomach and your thick thighs that you hated so much. He worshiped your body like no one had ever. Finding you quickly dampening folds and replacing his fingers with his tongue. You all but screamed as he slipped two thick fingers into your waiting heat, growling as your walls already fluttered around him.

Before you knew what hit you your orgasm nearly knocked you unconscious. His mouth doing things you didn't even know was possible. Sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he worked you slowly through it.

As soon as you came down from your high Dean was hovering over you, his mouth finding yours again, giving you a taste of yourself still on his lips. 

Dean's eyes met yours against as he lined up his thick length with your center. Pumping himself a few times before he slowly presses himself in, fulling seating himself inside of your warmth with a grunt. Still for a  moment before he pulled out all the way and slowly seating himself back. Setting a  slow steady pace that was quickly gaining speed. 

Every trust he made drove you higher and higher, his mouth barely left yours as worked his body over yours. Before you knew it you could feel the coil tightening once again in your stomach, your nails digging into his shoulders, spurring him on.

"Fuck Dean. I'm..."

"I know baby I'm right there. Let go." 

With that, your walls clamped down around him, and your release washed over you as he spilled himself deep inside of you. Working you both slowly through it until you had come down completely before collapsing on top of you. Catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you under his weight. Even though you wouldn't have minded it. There was something so safe and secure about being there underneath him, his body caging your own. 

Finally, a chuckle left his lips as he pulled out of you slowly. Settling down on his side and pulling you into his chest. 

"All I did was kill some vamps and drag you out of a basement. That was one hell of a thank you, sweetheart." He teased you, and you playfully jabbed him in his ribs, electing the most contagious laugh you had ever heard, one that you could totally get used to hearing every day.

"You know you're stuck with me now right Dean. You're never getting rid of me."

Dean sat quietly for a moment before bringing his lips to yours. "I don't want to get rid of you, your mine now princess.."

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Tag List: 

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 10 (Mafia AU)

Summary:  We left off with Edge and Rus on a cliffhanger, let's see where they go from there!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

~~*~~

Read on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus knew what he looked like. Tall, gangling skeleton and his bones were thin, almost delicate. Most people probably thought a stiff breeze would send him off like a tumbleweed and they were sort of right. He would’ve had more than a couple scars from a childhood from tripping over his own feet if his brother wasn’t such a good healer.

But if you took his innate clumsiness out of the equation, it was a load of bullshit, really. He’d helped his brother set up their garden, hauled bags of soil and manure, lugged oversized flowerpots, carried fencing and poles. He wasn’t weak, thank you very much, but even he had to admit, holding up a Monster of Edge’s size for any length of time was pushing him to his limits.

Luckily, he didn’t have to manage long. Edge caught his balance quickly, rocked unsteadily back to his feet and once Rus wasn’t completely blanketed by tall skeleton, he got a better view of the Dogs standing on either side of him, helping hold him up. Okay, they were at least part of the reason Edge hadn’t fallen on him, so what, he was pretty sure he did his part.

More Dogs, wow, did they buy these guys by the six pack? They were pretty good at the stoic, almost as good as Edge, but Rus didn’t miss their brief, amused tail wags. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, watching him trying to catch Edge must’ve been a funny sight, like a meek village fool trying to catch a crumbling mountain.

But watching them immediately school their expressions to bland seriousness when Edge looked at them was even better.

Large hands settled on his shoulders, drawing his attention back to Edge and more to the point, his face, holy fuck—

“I’m all right,” Edge started, and no, just no.

“you certainly don’t look like it!” Rus snapped. He took hold of one of Edge’s sleeves, flinching at sight of the charred fray that was all that remained of his gloves. “come on, for pity’s sake, come sit down!”

Edge didn’t really resist, bemusedly letting Rus lead the way down the hallway. Only for Rus to stop a few steps in, turning back to admit sheepishly. “um. i’m not sure where you were going?”

He hadn’t heard any of the Dogs speak yet, but that wasn’t entirely unusual, some Monsters didn’t use a verbal language. It didn’t stop one of them from letting out a snicker, hastily quelled when Edge slanted him a dour look.

“This way, flower shop.” Edge took the lead and stayed on his feet mostly under his own steam with the occasional steadying hand from one of the Dogs. He led the way to another of the thousand doors, only this one had a panel that opened to reveal a keypad. Rus pointedly didn’t watch as Edge punched in the code and went inside.

But it wasn’t an infirmary of any sort or even a bathroom. Inside was a large bedroom, dominated by an enormous four poster bed that was covered in an fluffy comforter and huge pillows, with actual curtains hung around it, like they’d taken an accidental trip with the Ghost of Gyftmas Past and wandered into the bedroom of Ebeneezer Scrooge. Rus hovered awkwardly by the door as the Dogs helped Edge to one of the wide sofas set in a half-circle in a sort of open-air sitting room.

Once Edge was settled, the Dogs took their leave and Rus didn’t miss the wink one of them sent his way.

Well, it seemed they were expecting him to play nurse, not exactly a role he’d had much experience in. One look at Edge had him setting his shoulders, ready to step up and give it his best shot, though if there were any cracks about him putting on a little white dress, he was out.

Or maybe he was fooling himself, because he couldn’t possibly leave Edge alone like this. His clothes were streaked with burnt marks, the fine suit from that morning looked like it only recently stopped smoldering. Worse of all, the bone all down one side of his face was scorched and blackened, and Rus supposed it was a small mercy that the damage was on the already injured side of his skull.

Just looking at it made nausea lurch up into his throat. Rus swallowed it down and walked over, biting the tip of his tongue and focusing on that tiny hurt while he inspected the damages.

It must be painful, but Edge didn’t flinch from Rus’s timid prodding as he tried to decide if he actually could help or if he needed to find a phone to call for someone more qualified. So much soot and who knew what damage beneath it. Rus blinked hard as sympathetic tears welled; he’d always hated seeing anything hurt, Rus was the one getting teased for rescuing worms from the sidewalks after a storm and giving the pigeons in the park the crusts from his sandwiches. A thumb grazed underneath his socket, wiping away the trickle of tears, and Rus could smell the smoky char on Edge’s ruined gloves.

“It’s not that bad, flower shop,” Edge murmured. “I’m only a little crisp around the edges.” If he were trying for lightness, he failed, and Rus could feel wetness escaping from around his touch, trickling down his cheekbones. “Don’t,” Edge tried, “You don’t need to—"

“this is about us, isn’t it?” Rus interrupted softly. He wasn’t sure what kind of fool Edge thought he was, but he could at least manage to put 2 and 2 together and know that a vengeful fire monster who was prone to kidnappings likely matched up with fresh burns.

Edge said nothing and that was all the answer Rus needed.

“then i think i do.” Rus drew away, wiping impatiently at his damp cheeks bones with his sleeve. “where’s the bathroom?”

He followed where Edge pointed and one step inside was enough to stifle his remaining tears. If he thought his own lavatory was opulent, this one seemed to belong more in a palace than above a strip club in the red-light district, all of it gleaming dark marble streaked with gold. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and sighed. All his efforts to obey his brother’s scold to keep his new clothes clean ruined by smudges of soot streaked all down his shirt and a full set of handprints impressed on his shoulders.

Welp, guess it was a good thing he probably wasn’t going to be doing the laundry.

Under the sink was a basin that he filled halfway with cool water, along with a well-appointed first aid kit. Rus snagged both along with a couple clean washcloths and clumsily carried the lot of it out, only spilling a couple splashes of water to disappear in the lush carpet.

Edge hadn’t moved, only watched him with an intensity that sent an odd prickle down Rus’s spine. Whatever, let him stare. Rus ignored it to set his newfound supplies on the coffee table and sat on the sofa next to him to get to work. First, wetting a washcloth and very gently washing away the layers of soot to reveal the chalky, damaged bone beneath. It actually wasn’t too bad, he was relieved to see, at least Edge was right about that. Most of it was filth, the only real damage seemed to be to the very side of his face, a ragged line that ran from his forehead nearly to his chin. Edge never made a sound even when Rus had to really scrub to clear away the sooty blackness. The friction must have hurt terribly, but he allowed Rus to clean him up as he muttering vague apologies the entire time, because honestly, if he’d been the one hurt, Rus would have been howling for mercy by now.

The silence grew to be too much, nothing but the splash of water as he wrung out the cloth again and Edge’s crimson eye lights following his every move. Luckily, filling silences with nervous chatter was one of Rus’s greatest skills.

“i’m glad the bathroom was close,” Rus admitted with a self-deprecating laugh, “if it was in the hallway, i would’ve been a while. i’m not sure if i could find anything in this labyrinth.”

“It’s not as big as it seems,” Edge’s sockets fell half-closed as Rus gingerly cleaned around the delicate, damaged rim, showing only a bare gleam of crimson. “You only think it is because of the Dogs.”

That gave Rus a pause. "what do you mean?”

Edge offered him that little half-smile of his, "The hallways are designed like a labyrinth and my brother has the Dogs lead people through the same ones several times. Even the artwork is designed to change the picture when someone walks past it, to make it seem larger and more confusing than it is.”

“seriously? what kind of low-rent james bond villain bullshit is that?" Rus blurted. He winced at his own words, shit, calling Red a villain wasn’t exactly what his brother would call good manners, but Edge's slight smile only widened.

"I prefer the term frugal.”

“hmmph,” Rus huffed, deciding not to argue the point. If Red wanted a subplot of being a cheapskate, that was his problem. “are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked, dabbing gingerly at a particularly darkened spot. The bone beneath was slightly pitted and he could only hiss in sympathy, imagining how much it must hurt.

That little smile faded. “I went to see Blaze in a neutral location, to negotiate.”

“looks like negotiations went south.”

Edge grunted in agreement, closing his sockets entirely as Rus finished cleaning his skull with a last gentle wipe. He dropped the washcloth into the dingy basin water before digging through the first aid kit for burn ointment. With the soot cleaned away, the burns matched Edge’s assessment of not too bad. They should heal fine, probably wouldn’t even scar if Edge kept it clean and well treated. Of course, there was another option.

Rus carefully set the ointment aside, reaching out instead with a cautious bare hand, “you were right, it isn’t too bad. i’m not as good as my brother, but if you let me heal you—”

The hand that caught his wrist moved so quickly Rus barely saw it. He yelped in surprise and automatically tried to pull away. Uselessly, that grip tightened painlessly as Edge said, firmly, “No.”

Even sitting, Edge was taller than him, especially when he wasn’t slumped back on the sofa. Taller than him, larger than him in every way and even sitting here in a ridiculously lavish bedroom in his ruined suit, Edge seemed larger than life, nearly a force of nature. And Rus looked up directly into his hurt face and asked boldly, “why not?”

The flick of his crimson tongue over his teeth nearly distracted Rus from his words. “Because having someone else use their magic on me outside of a fight is entirely too intimate for my tastes.”

Intimate. That was the problem? Considering that Rus was in possession of a shivery memory of Edge’s weight on top of him, pressing him into the cushioned plush of the rug with the heat of the fireplace pouring over them as Edge’s gloved hand skimmed against his bare hip…um…better to stop there. Anyway, considering all that, it seemed silly to him for Edge to suffer through days of discomfort when a little healing magic could ease it.

Exasperated, Rus pointed out, “you were willing to have sex with me but won’t let me heal you?” It was only after he said it that Rus belatedly remembered that actually, Edge hadn’t been willing to have sex with him, that was sort of where their awkwardness this morning came from and he looked away, a miserable blush rising in his cheekbones, like an echo of Edge’s burns.

To his shameful relief, Edge didn’t comment on that, only ran his thumb over the delicate, interlocked bones at the inside of Rus’s wrist. “It’s not the same. Magic involves souls, sex is only as intimate as you allow it to be. Anyone can take your body, flower shop.”

“yes, thank you for that reminder,” Rus muttered unhappily. He couldn’t hold back a shudder, remembering Blaze’s unbearably sweltering hands on him, forcing his touch on Rus as he whispered horrible things, cruelly teasing threats about Rus’s mouth and what he might do to it.

Edge’s voice jarred him from the unpleasant memory, cushioned in gentleness. “You’re safe here. This club is as well protected as it could possibly be. Aside from basic security precautions, we’ve been layering on every sort of protection spell possible over it since we got to the surface.”

That was a comfort to know, for now. But what about when he left, they left, him and Blue heading back to their shop and their lives without an ounce of protection surrounding them.

“i want to go home.” The words slipped out, small and miserable. And true, their home was small and a bit cramped, but it was home.

“I know,” Edge said, softly. He offered no promises about getting Rus there and he wondered wanly if he should be grateful for that honesty. Rus reached up and took hold of the large hand still holding his other wrist as his gaze searched Edge’s face, eye lights skimming from the untouched side to the one stark with darkened burns. With a tug, Edge brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss against them and murmuring, “I’m working on it.”

There was something in his voice, something coldly dark beneath that tender touch and Rus swallowed hard, “you’re going to try to kill him, aren’t you.”

“Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered.”

“aren’t you?” Rus persisted.

Edge let out a small frustrated sound, "It's the only way to end this. The only way you'll get your life back."

Rus shook his head, helplessly. That couldn’t be true, the only answer simply couldn’t be tainting Edge’s soul with XP, racking a LV onto Edge’s conscious in the name of their wellbeing, his and Blue’s and Rus knew without question that his brother would agree. “there has to be another way.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that, flower shop?” Edge countered, “What about your brother’s?”

“there has to be! i can’t let you—” kill someone. Rus choked on the words, felt the ache of tears welling up again.

Again, that thumb rubbed a soothing little circle against Rus’s wrist. “Why do you care so much?”

“I…” Rus swallowed nervously. “it’s…it’s the right thing to do!”

“Of course,” Edge said wryly. “And you always do the right thing, don’t you.” He let go of Rus’s wrist and sank back into the cushions. “Go on, then.”

“huh?” Rus blinked, confused, ready to argue that he wasn’t about to leave with this debate still between them.

“Go on,” Edge repeated, “Heal me.” A sardonic slash of a smile tipped up the undamaged side of his mouth. “Since it’s the right thing to do.”

Oh. Rus had to kneel up to reach, leaning across Edge’s torso to settle his bare hand lightly against the side of his skull. It was a matter of moments to focus his magic, calling up the tingling warmth of healing and concentrating it on the burns. He certainly didn’t miss Edge’s relieved sigh; it must’ve hurt something awful and honestly, fussing about intimacy when the alternative was days of pain? He really couldn’t understand these people.

When Rus finally stopped, the bone beneath his hand was smooth and unblemished, at least as much as previously cracked bone could be. All signs of any burns were gone and Rus beamed at Edge, pleased.

“there,” he said triumphantly. “isn’t that bett—oh!”

The way Rus was leaning already put him off balance and the sudden, strong arm winding around his waist sent him nearly sprawling into Edge’s lap. A rough chuckle greeted his twisting and squirms until he was sitting across Edge’s femurs, looking up into his newly healed face with wide sockets.

“Yes,” Edge agreed softly, “This is much better.” He lightly bit the tip of one of his fingers, tugging off his glove and spitting it aside before reaching out to brush bare fingertips lightly over Rus’s mouth, cautious of the sharpened tips. Rus sat frozen beneath that touch as it slid lower, broad knuckles curling beneath his chin. “To tell the truth, I’m at a loss,” Edge murmured, low, like a confession. “Even if I deal with Blaze, you’re irrevocably linked to me now. Do I let it be? Or do I embrace it?”

That…that sounded…Rus wasn’t sure, his thoughts were in wild turmoil, caught up between Edge’s words and his embrace, “what about what i want?” he asked, weakly.

A soft chuckle gusted over him like a caress and Edge’s face was close to his own, as he said, “Pretty flower, you’ve wanted me since the day I walked into your shop.”

Rus wanted to deny it, but what was the point? It was true, he couldn’t possibly have been more obvious. He didn’t move as Edge leaned in, every possible protest twittering out of his mind even as Edge said, his deep voice raw with the barest of regrets, “Just remember, I tried to let you go.”

His mouth was achingly gentle, coaxingly sweet and Rus parted his teeth with a watery sigh as he met it with his own. Parted his teeth to timidly meet the slide of a clever tongue with his own. He was surrounded, Edge around him, beneath him, the arms that circled him held Rus close. Safe, he realized, he was safe, and Rus groaned shakily, clinging to Edge’s broad chest as those dizzying kisses deepened, teeth scraping with tantalizingly deliberate roughness as a low growl rumbled out from deep within Edge’s chest.

In the back of his mind, Rus was hyperaware of the enormous bed behind them, equal parts inviting and terrifying to consider Edge carrying him to it the same way as he had to the rug. His heavy weight again between Rus’s femurs, the hard press of his hips, and the senseless magic settling in Rus’s pelvis wanted that, wanted even more. He could feel his magic taking form, embarrassingly eager wetness dampening his undershorts. His mind might well be unsettled, but his body was making its wants known to them both and he couldn’t help wriggling again, already feeling the response of Edge’s body beneath his pelvis.

The door bursting opened shattered any burgeoning arousal and Rus jerked back, scrambling away even as Edge reluctantly let him go.

Red didn’t even seem to notice them yet, kicking the door shut as he groused, “dogs said you and blaze got into it, bro, you okay—” he stopped, staring blankly at his brother, eye lights gliding over where Edge’s joints were flushed and his jaw clenched. Then flicking to Rus who was curled up far on the other side of the sofa with a burning blush high on his cheekbones. Red chewing on the end of his cigar furiously, saying acidly around it, “might need to have a word with ‘em, since they didn’t see fit to mention this lil’ tête-à-tête.”

“Perhaps they thought they didn’t need to,” Edge said, coolly, “There is this charming social construct called knocking, you should consider trying it sometime.”

“uh huh, you know me, all up in the social constructs.” Red turned his sour look back on Rus, who only cringed harder, “sorry to interrupt, but i’m fresh outta social constructs right now. me and my bro need to talk, hit bricks.”

Edge crossed his arms over his chest, “No, he can stay.”

Yeah, because Rus was all about hanging around Red with his magic still uncomfortably roused between his legs. “i really don’t mind, i can go.”

Neither of them paid him any mind, both brother’s glaring. Finally, Red shrugged, “i was gonna talk business, but if you wanna scar your pretty lil’ flower, ain’t no skin off my bones.”

That seemed to give Edge a pause. He frowned, considering, then sighed out, “Go, Rus.”

Rus wobbled to his feet, all ready to head for the door. Only to have Edge catch his wrist, reeling him in. He didn’t try to take a kiss, thankfully, no attempt at a little pda in front of his brother. He only studied Rus’s face as if drinking in the sight of him, then tapped him lightly on the nasal aperture as he said, sternly, “Behave.”

That made him remember that morning, sneaking downstairs to chat with the ladies in the break room. Rus gave him a wobbly nod, and said, “i always do,” hoping his guilt didn’t show on his face as he slipped away and headed towards the door.

He skirted widely around Red and even that didn’t keep Rus from hearing him mutter, “if that’s you behavin’ flower shop, can’t wait to see ya bein’ bad.”

Outside the door one of the Dogs was waiting and Rus was about to ask them to show him back to his room, preferably without the extra mileage, when his eye lights caught on a long line of blistered redness along their muzzle.

“did you get burned, too,” Rus gasped, appalled, “that must hurt, do you want me to heal…it?” He trailed off awkwardly, expecting to be brushed off. But the Dog only whined and lowered their head, their dark brown eyes hopeful.

The little wound was even easier to heal than Edge’s and the Dog heaved a sigh of relief when Rus was finished, offering him a slightly slobbery grin, along with something else that had been sitting unnoticed by their feet. They held it out in offering and Rus took it, uncomprehending at first until the familiar jangle made him look down in disbelief.

It was his backpack, somewhat sooty and Spongebob was more than a little worse for wear, but it was his, with all his pins still attached.

“how did you—” Rus started, dumbly. There was only one answer and Rus glanced at the door speculatively, wondering if he’d gotten the backpack before, after, or during getting burnt to a crisp. Questions for later and he added it to his list as the Dog led him back to his room.

The moment he opened the door, a loud shout almost sent him tumbling head over heels back out.

“Where have you been!?”

Rus sighed to himself and shut the door, bracing himself to face his brother.

Where was a kidnapping when you really needed one.

tbc

[jaylos]

descendancts gift exchange 2020

@descendantsgiftexchange

i’m so glad i made it within the deadline hehe (not in my timezone but shh..)

i apologize for the wait but here it is! @moorsgrimhilde i’m your gift giver and i chose to write a oneshot for umaudrey :) i hope you like it as much as i liked writing it and i hope you’re having a good time this winter <3

it has about 3700 words and the plot goes a little something like this: Uma has never skied before and Audrey helps her, but it doesn’t go so well! And then they have to take shelter from the cold, oh no! What will happen?? Probably romance!

here it is on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439811

and here it is under the cut for those who prefer to read on tumblr:

When Ben invited all his friends on a winter vacation in the mountains of Arendelle, Uma was not that exited, but she was not going to sit around in her dorm room by herself, so she decided to join them.

However, when she was standing on skiis with shaky legs looking down the slope, she really regretted that decision.

She didn't have to get onto the ski lift and come all the way up here, but Mal had insinuated that she was too scared, so she really didn't have a choice, did she?

So, she was standing there, gripping her ski poles tightly, while Mal had stayed behind way further down the mountain on a beginner's slope.

“Do you need help?” asked a voice next to her, and she turned her head to find Audrey looking at her with a reserved smile and her eyebrows drawn together ever so slightly.

Uma's first instinct was to decline. She was, after all, not one to accept help easily.

There was also the fact that Audrey looked so regal in her coordinated soft pink wintersports outfit with faux fur and lots of tiny white pompoms, which was a stark contrast to Uma's borrowed and mismatched clothes.

Admittedly, she was less worried about their clothes and more about not wanting to look like a fool in front of Audrey.

But the clothes didn't help.

Another reason why Uma came along on this trip, though, was Audrey, who had also been invited. She felt drawn to the princess -  of all people – but had never quite found the opportunity to get to know her better.

A situation where Uma felt more in control would have been nice, but this was her chance.

So she tried to be nice.

“You think you can help me?” she asked, although it came out a little more harshly than she intended.

Audrey blinked, picking up on Uma's reluctance, but smiled through it. “My family goes skiing, like, all the time. I'm pretty good at it.”

Uma hesitated. She was still not quite used to people offering help out of the kindness of their hearts, and doubts were always gnawing at the back of her mind.

It seemed she took a second too long to respond.

Audrey's smile took on something that Uma would almost call mischievous. “Don't you want to see Mal's face when you make it to the bottom in one piece?”

Uma cringed inwardly, because Audrey had apparently not only overheard Mal's teasing but also seen right through her.

However, a smirk formed on Uma's face, because Audrey was speaking a language they both understood.

Audrey instructed Uma how to position her feet, how to balance her weight on the skiis and how to slow down so she would make it down the mountain safely.

Uma did fall on her butt a few times and she was embarrassed, but Audrey offered her hand, and her laugh was one of the sweetest sounds of Auradon.

Slowly but steadily they made headway, and Uma was starting to get the hang of it, but they had reached a part of the slope that was much steeper than the rest, and Uma looked down nervously.

Audrey came to a halt next to her. “You're doing really well for your first time!”

A part of Uma wanted to question her sincerity. Did she have hidden motives? What did she have to gain by being so nice?

In Remedial Goodness 101, they had learned about kindness for kindess' sake, but it was all still a bit confusing to Uma. Especially since she had heard some not-so-kind things about Audrey.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why she found Audrey interesting, as opposed to most other Auradonians.

The sky had been clear when they went up the mountain, but in the time it had taken them to get down little by little, grey clouds had started to gather.

Uma knew she had no time to waste and no choice but to keep going right away.

She took a deep breath. “Let's do this.”

She began her descent with all the confidence she could muster, but it vanished again in a split-second, when she lost control and started barrelling down the slope.

In the distance, Audrey called out to her, but her voice was drowned out by the wind in Uma's ears.

In an attempt to brake Uma steered to one side as best as she could. She was not going straight down, at least, but now she was speeding towards the edge of the slope and only managed to dodge a tree by a hair.

The snow was significantly deeper here, so she became a bit slower right before her skiis got stuck and she flew face first into a heap of snow.

She took a moment to recover from the shock and catch her breath. When she got up, relieved that she was still in one piece, she could hear Audrey calling her name as she hurried into the woods after her.

Uma patted down her clothes to rid herself of the snow. “I'm here!” she called.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked as soon as she reached her. “Are you hurt?”

The worry in Audrey's voice was a small comfort to Uma. At least she was not going to mock her for making a fool out of herself.

“I'm fine,” she reassured her.

“..Do you think you can keep going?” Audrey asked, but seemed reluctant to even suggest it.

Uma sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

To her surprise, Audrey did offer another option. “Well.. I know a place where we could take a break. It's a short walk from here.” She looked around a bit and added, “I think.”

Uma did not have to be asked twice. “Lead the way.” She knew that she had to go down the rest of the way eventually, but she was grateful for any excuse to put it off for the moment.

They slowly trudged through the deep snow for a while, their ski boots making it even harder to move forward. On top of that, the wind picked up considerably, swirling up the snow around them.

As much as Uma hated this troublesome, freezing trek, she probably would have hated skiing the rest of the way in this weather even more.

Uma didn't notice the small building in front of them until she almost bumped into Audrey.

“We're here!” Audrey yelled over the wind and proceeded to take the few wooden steps leading up the the porch, where she dropped her skiis with a huff.

It was a lodge in the middle of the forest, but Uma didn't waste much time looking at it before dumping her skiis with Audrey's and quickly following her inside.

They were both out of breath. and it took Uma a few moments before she could get out words.

“How'd you know about this?”

“It's my family's.” Audrey took off her jacket and shook the snow off of it. “We used to come here all the time when I was little, but nobody's been here ever since my parents bought a new one.”

Uma let her eyes wander around the room. There was a big couch with a matching recliner and a fireplace with a fluffy fur rug in front of it. On one side there was a small kitchen unit, and the floor, walls and high ceiling were all made of wood. Everything seemed quite dusty, but charming nonetheless. How wasteful it was to just abandon a place like this.

“Are you getting service?” Audrey asked, pulling Uma out of her thoughts.

Uma turned to her as she was holding up her phone - to no avail, judging by the disgruntled look on her face.

“I don't even have a phone,” she replied matter-of-factly.

That made Audrey stop and look at her for a moment. “Well,” she began, “if we're lucky, somebody notices that we're missing.”

The sarcastic undertone in her voice did not escape Uma. “You're a princess. They're probably already looking for you.”

“Sure,” Audrey replied, but did not sound convinced.

Uma drew her eyebrows together slightly. There was something up, but she decided not to pry, at least for now. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“Let's just make a fire. We're gonna be here for a while either way,” she said.

“It's an old fireplace. It doesn't have a switch!” Audrey said, visibly distressed, as though she was making sense. “We're probably gonna freeze to death!”

Uma shook her head lightly, albeit with a small smile on her face. “Relax, princess. Making a fire is not that hard. Just see if you can find matches around here somewhere.”

Audrey did as asked while Uma took some firewood from the pile next to the fireplace and put it inside.

They did manage to get a fire going with little difficulty, which seemed to put Audrey at ease, and they waited a bit for it to grow bigger before they peeled of their outer layers.

Audrey dug out blankets from somewhere and they got cozy on the fur rug in front of the fireplace.

This was definitely the most comfortable shelter Uma had ever been in.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, only the fire was crackling and the wind was howling over the roof.

“I've never seen this much snow. Like, at all,” Uma said as she looked out the window. There wasn't much to see except white nothingness. It was not that strange to Uma, though, to feel cut off from the rest of the world.

Audrey followed her gaze, scrunching up her face a bit at the sight. “Was there no snow on the Isle?”

“There wasn't much weather at all,” Uma replied with a shrug. “Honestly, I prefer that over this.”

“You know what would make this a lot more bearable? Hot chocolate,” Audrey said and huffed.

The way her lips were drawn into a pout reminded Uma of the fact that she was still a spoiled princess.

“Is this, like, you worst winter vacation ever?” Uma teased.

Audrey averted her gaze, and for a moment Uma feared that she had upset her, but she looked up again. “Well, I guess it was pretty fun befor-”

“Before I almost died,” Uma finished with a smirk. She sighed. “It's all my fault. I just had to prove Mal wrong.”

“Right, so it's actually her fault! Again! What a shocker,” Audrey said.

Uma snorted. She still had a light smile one her face when she contemplated for a moment. “Nah,” she said, “Harry made chicken noises at me too.”

She really had no-one to blame but herself. Nobody made her do anything.

Uma turned her head to look at Audrey, although their eyes did not quite meet.

“Are you still holding a grudge?”

Still with a sarcastic undertone, Audrey replied, “What, just because she stole my boyfriend and is gonna be queen instead of me and always hogs all the attention?”

They looked at each other for one quiet second before they broke out into laughter.

When they calmed down, Audrey continued, “I'm over it. I mean, being queen would've been nice but honestly I'm kind of relieved that I don't have to spend my life with.. someone I don't really love.”

“Then why did you start dating him?” Uma asked.

Audrey gave a half-hearted shrug. “It just made sense. I was always expected to marry a prince, so why not take the most influential one there is?” She paused. “And Ben and I grew up together, so I already knew he was a good person.”

Uma could only shake her head at the absurdity of it. “I literally grew up on an island prison but I gotta say, that sounds like you didn't have much freedom either.”

Audrey's chuckle was bittersweet, but it helped her let go of a bit of the tension her memories had brought her.

“So,” Uma said with a sigh, “what are we gonna do now that we're both free?” Her choice of words was deliberate. She was up for spending more time with Audrey, whatever they were doing.

“Oh, I'm on top of my schedule,” Audrey replied, faking enthusiasm. “Being a huge disappointment to my family?” She made a check mark in the air with a flick of her wrist. “Check.”

Uma laughed. “Tell me about it.”

With a soft smile, Audrey inclined her head. “What about you?”

Uma pretended to think for a moment. “Absolutely no idea.” She was pondering how much she wanted to open up to Audrey. There was a feeling of mutual understanding between them, even though they could not be more different. “The Isle was awful in many ways, but at least I knew my place there. Here I'm.. a fish out of water.” She lowered her gaze. “And I had my crew, but they're all doing their own thing now. And that's great for them an all... but I'm just not used to it.” She let out a soft chuckle. “I never expected Gil to travel Auradon one day.”

He had always seemed pretty content where he was.

Audrey opened her mouth, but she took a second longer to decide if she wanted to speak or not. “Why don't we do that?”

Uma blinked at her. “What, travel Auradon?”

“Yeah,” Audrey replied and tried to rein in her excitement about her own suggestion. “I mean, nothing's keeping me in Auradon City.”

“Haven't you been everywhere already?”

“Pretty much. But I bet it'd be fun to go there again.. with you,” Audrey said and looked at her with big eyes, nervously awaiting her response.

Uma pressed her lips together to keep her smile from growing too wide.

Their eyes met.

“Sure,” Uma responded, “but let's say Arendelle was our first stop. I think I've seen all I need to see here.”

Audrey chuckled softly and Uma basked in the sweet sound of it.

“You know,” Uma began, “when I came here I didn't think we would get along, but you're cool.” She nodded with approval. When she spoke on her voice was more soft. “I had fun hanging out with you today. Even this,” she gestured into the room, “is not so bad.”

Audrey gave her a bashful smile and was unable to hold eye contact, which Uma took as a good sign. It felt like quite the accomplishment to make the beautiful princess flustered.

Audrey leaned a bit closer as though she was about to tell a secret. In a low voice she said, “I thought you were intimidating.”

“Thanks, I try,” Uma replied with a smirk.

More soflty, Audrey then said, “I had fun with you too.”

For a moment or two, they just looked at each other.

Uma's mind was racing, thinking about how many unexpected turns her life had taken so that she ended up here. Never in a milion years would she have imagined that she would find a companion in an Auradonian, let alone a princess.

She had been curious about Audrey ever since she read her diary – which she would not do again, of course – but she didn't think that there would become more of it than a ridiculous fantasy.

“Oh, but the first thing we're gonna do when we get out of here is get you a phone,” Audrey said, snapping Uma back to reality.

“Do I need one?” she asked.

Audrey tilted her head as though the answer was obvious. “Of course! How else are you supposed to respond to my texts and like my selfies?”

Uma wrinkled her forehead. “..I could just tell you in person?”

Audrey smiled solfty at her. “That's sweet, but it's not the same.”

They were talking about all sorts of things, about their lives growing up, about Auradon, about their friends. Not too much about their parents and their expectations, though. They decided that was too much of a bummer.

Audrey kept thinking of more things she wanted to show Uma, more ways to share her world with her, and Uma had soon forgotten that there was a snow storm raging outside. She wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere else.

There was a lull in the conversation. Not an unpleasant silence, though.

They had moved closer together without even noticing, even though the warmth from the fire had already spread around the room.

“Can I ask you a question?” Audrey's voice was quiet, so as not to disturb the peace.

Uma turned to look at her to find her watching the fire pensively.

“Shoot.”

“On the Isle... do people believe in true love?”

Uma shrugged. “Some might, but if they do they don't say it. It's pretty frowned upon.”

Audrey finally tore her gaze away from the fire. “Why?”

“It makes you vulnerable. On the Isle you can't – couldn't – afford that,” Uma replied. She herself had believed that too, although she had her doubts ever since she had found her crew. Caring for them was what had made her strong, after all. “Why are you asking?”

“We grew up very differently. I'm just curious about someone else's perspective.” Audrey's eyes were jumping between different spots on Uma's face, as though she would learn more by looking closely.

“Do you believe in true love?” Uma asked with a nonchalance that sounded fake even in her own ears.

“I guess so,” Audrey replied, not trying to hide her uncertainty. “I mean, it's what I grew up to believe in.” She paused, and her expression turned almost apologetic. “I would like it to be true, but I've certainly had no luck finding it.”

“That sounds like way too much pressure,” Uma said.

Audrey let out a chuckle. “Yeah. I probably would've stayed with Ben just so I wouldn't have to deal with it.”

A smirk formed on Uma's face. “Then maybe Mal did you a favor.”

With a soft laugh Audrey shook her head lightly, followed by a sigh. “I think Ben's heart wasn't in it either. It was probably only a matter of time anyway,” she said with a wistful smile.

Uma gave her a sympathetic look. “You people take this true love stuff way too seriously.” Her voice lacked the usual contempt she had for nonsensical Auradonian conventions. It wasn't Audrey's fault that she thought there was only one way to love.

Their eyes met, and Uma wasn't sure if Audrey had come closer again.

“You're probably right.. But what else am I supposed to do?”, Audrey asked in a soft voice, as though she already knew the answer but didn't dare to say it.

“Just have fun,” Uma replied and leaned in a bit. “You don't always have to know where it's going.”

Uma certainly didn't. Everything she did ever since the barrier was opened meant going into uncharted waters.

They were only inches apart now, looking into each other's eyes inently.

“What would people think?”, Audrey asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

Uma didn't want to burden herself with trying to unpack all that this question entailed, at least not now. This moment was just for them, not for anyone else to scrutinize.

“That's their problem.”

This must have been exactly what Audrey wanted to hear, because a light smile formed on her lips. And to Uma's surprise, Audrey was the one who closed the gap between them.

When Audrey's soft lips touched hers, Uma curled her fingers into her blanket, else she might have floated away.

She stayed still and waited for Audrey to pull away first.

When Audrey did so, she smiled sweetly and cast down her eyes.

Uma almost had to laugh, because of all people, she was the one getting a kiss from a princess, and she liked it too.

“If someone had told me about this, like, two years ago..” Audrey said, but didn't finish her sentence.

They both giggled at the fact that, not long ago neither of them would ever have expected this.

Audrey leaned onto her, not too much, only so their shoulders were touching lightly, and told her more about the places they'd visit and the things they'd see.

Uma suggested a trip to the Isle as well. She wasn't particularly proud of the place she grew up in, but she was proud of her ship and what she made of it. And it was sure to be unlike anything Audrey had ever seen before.

The storm had settled a bit, but they barely noticed. Audrey never even checked her phone to see if a message did get through.

The sun was starting to set, and only then were they disturbed by loud banging on the door, and muffled voices calling their names made them jump to their feet.

They hurried to the door, and in stumbled Mal and Ben and lots of snow.

“There you are!” Mal said and threw her arms around Uma's neck, only to let go again immediately to look Uma up and down. “Are you okay?”

Ben hugged Audrey with a little less vigor but just as much relief. “We've been looking everywhere for you!”

“Until Ben remembered this place,” Mal added.

“We're fine,” Uma reassured them.

Audrey clutched her chest. “You've been running around outside during this terrible storm?”

“We couldn't just wait around not knowing if something happened to you,” Ben said.

Mal ignored the question, still too agitated to have a calm conversation. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have egged you on when I knew you've never skied before. It's all my fault.”

Uma and Audrey exchanged a look, both trying to suppress a smile.

“It's fine,” Uma said. “We've been holding out in here.”

Ben had taken off his mittens and was now rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “Could we maybe join you for a bit? I'm not really in a rush to get back out there now that we know you're safe.”

“That depends,” Uma replied and lifted her chin.

This earned her confused looks and Mal asked, “On what?”

Uma smirked. “You think you can conjure up some hot chocolate?”

“That's a great idea,” Audrey said and gave her the sweetest of smiles.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Working Like a Charm

Sammie Smith’s body ached. Every muscle screamed to the high heavens, lamenting long hours of work, telling a tale of soreness and overexertion. He could feel how sunken his eyes must have looked but avoided rubbing them.

Numb to the layers of grit and filth from the coal mine that clung to every surface of exposed skin, his weary calloused hands burned from clutching tools for as long as he had. Still was he clutching them now, carrying his heavy shovel and pickaxe on a shoulder. Part of why “Baron” Callan had hired him—he brought his own tools to work.

The day had been entirely too damned long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s sleep. Night came fast this time of year, and the day had dragged on into overtime due to a cave-in, setting them back and subjecting the workforce to Callan’s barking admonitions. At least nobody had gotten hurt in the accident.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

His shanty little shack stood amid a copse of trees, just far away enough from the town’s center that he needed not deal with the raucous noise from the saloon or the farrier’s daily toil or other busywork in the rugged frontier town, but not so far away that it made fetching water and supplies too much of a hassle.

He tripped over something, stumbled a few steps, and caught himself before gravity could drag him down. Sammie slowly turned to look at what had snagged his boot.

A linen sack. Sopping wet and dark in color. About the size of a human head.

It took him several moments to register what he was looking at. For the realization to sink in. He lost track of time, oblivious to how long he was standing there, staring at the linen sack, piecing together why his own brain figured it to be the size of a human head, or that the stain in the coarse cloth and on the dirt around it had to be blood.

And then his mind snapped onto a decision. He did what he believed every other conscientious citizen of their fine town should do upon finding a severed head by the roadside on their way home. He kicked it away with full force, cringing at the squelching sound and how little it flew past the shrubs, heavy with fluid, and it flopped unevenly, disappearing awkwardly into the shade of the underbrush.

He had been stealing pennies from Callan and often cheated at cards. He had pissed off plenty of people around town in some of his bouts of drunken aggression, and Sammie did not want to have Sheriff Moody on his ass for accusations of a murder he did not commit.

With a heavy sigh and hoping to leave the severed head behind for wild animals and vermin to claim, he continued his way home.

Only about thirty paces away from his shack, he stopped and groaned, beginning to second-guess and regret what he had just done. If it did draw wild animals, they would be a bit too close to his hut for comfort. And leaving it there for some rascal or dog to find might just make people think he did it either way.

Branches bent and snapped as he hastily dumped his tools by the side of the dirt path and started poking around in the bush where the head in the burlap sack had rolled off to.

Sammie swore up a storm as he searched. The blood drained more and more from his head with every second, a sense of dread forming a knot in his stomach as he could not find it and began to imagine people pointing and laughing while they hanged him from the gallows.

It had not flown far. How in tarnation could he not have found it already?

Glass shattered and metal clattered, and the burst of ruckus stopped him dead in his tracks. Sammie’s head jutted over, and he craned his neck over the edge of the bushes to peer at his shack.

Someone was in there.

The murderer?

He could feel his heart pounding away as it uncomfortably pumped blood through his throbbing chest, digits, and ears. Even his belly pulsed with his festering sense of fear.

Straining his eyes to see inside the darkness behind the small and shoddy windows of his cabin, he could not make out anybody in there. Eagerly awaiting a motion to make itself noticed.

He licked his parched lips and returned to his tools, keeping his eyes trained on his home. He ducked down, pawing at the first wooden shaft his hands found purchase on, then gripped the pickaxe in both hands.

Step by step, careful to not make too much sound as he approached, he drew his axe up high above his head, ready to swing it and kill if need be.

The closer he drew to the shabby front door of his cabin, the more subtle sounds he perceived from inside: scratching, followed by a man’s clipped cough, followed by wooden objects scraping against each other, followed by what sounded like someone smacking their lips—

Sammie arrived by the door. His heart throbbed with such pounding force that it felt like it was trying to escape every orifice, trying to drown out every little noise.

He kicked the door and started swearing once the sensation of the jolt reached his ankle and knee—the door just rattled in its hinges, refusing to yield anything but additional pain in his already sore leg. He lost balance and stumbled away, using the pickaxe to brace himself from falling, skidding across the dirt.

Whoever had invaded his home did not react to his fumbling around outside. Still sounded like someone was eating in there.

Was this rat bastard eating his jerky supplies?

The fury welling up in his gut—being stolen from, being possibly framed for murder, making a fool of himself in failing to kick his own door open, frustrated by the ghoulish foreman and “Baron” at work, being too tired for any of this—somehow eclipsed his fear.

Fuming, Sammie ripped the door open, gripping the pickaxe in one hand, knowing it might as well just scare off the scoundrel to show he could drive the pick right through him if he started messing around.

One step beyond the threshold, he froze.

Faint light from the setting sun poured in through the cabin’s small windows, revealing a cloud of dust motes to be dancing in the rays. The smell of feces and vomit lingered in the air, like someone had dragged the horse trough from outside the saloon into here.

A stranger sat at his table, eating. Eating what looked to be shards of glass in one of Sammie’s wooden bowls. The stranger smacked his lips and the glass crunched between his teeth as he chewed, with rivulets of blood trickling down his chin. He looked like he had once sported a dapper black suit and jacket, like someone far more well off than Sammie—like a businessman from Louisville—but myriads of dark spots and dust marred his attire, like he had been rolling around in the dirt and human refuse.

And his hands were slick and shiny with crimson. His fingers looked way too thin at the tips, all pointy and narrow, mismatched with the rest of his meaty palms.

The stranger met Sammie’s horrified gaze with an air of confounded indifference about him, idly crunching down on the glass being ground down between his teeth. His eerily thin fingertips gingerly grabbed another shard from the pile of broken bottles in the bowl in front of him and guided it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth and revealed a nightmare of blood and shiny jagged bits, teeth painted in black and red.

The pickaxe landing on the floorboards with a heavy thud helped Sammie break out of his trance. All semblance of fatigue had escaped his weary body and he now felt lightheaded, his stomach churning and turning upside down like it needed to expel his meager lunch, and his knees buckled for a split second before he braced himself against the frame of his front door.

The stranger stopped chewing. Swallowed with visible effort and a loud gulping sound to accompany it. Coughed, choked, gurgled. Swallowed again.

He tilted his head and stared Sammie in the eyes. Piercing, unblinking. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his own chin.

“I—”

The glass-eater spoke and coughed. He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I, too, have discovered, that poring over the secret pages of Doyle, I sometimes feel the distant spirit of God,” said the glass-eater. Blood bubbled from between his lips and stilted his otherwise eerily calm manner of speaking. “On the whole, our questions are quickly eaten by the—by the—”

His words trailed off. His gaze remained fixed upon Sammie, going blank.

“W-who? Who are you?” Sammie finally asked.

He wanted to crouch down and snatch the pickaxe back up, but it was all too weird. The stranger, this glass-eater, had clearly lost his mind, but he was not threatening him in any way. Just sitting there with a calm that did not match the damage he was doing to himself in eating all those glass shards.

The glass-eater blinked, finally, reminding Sammie of a human. His focus returned; his gaze hardened again.

“Who are you?” the glass-eater echoed him, almost mimicking his tone.

Was that a mockery?

Sammie almost shook his head as much as his mind told him that was not the case. The glass-eater had repeated his question more like children learning how to speak by mimicking the words of adults they heard spoken.

He swallowed the dry lump of coal dust and grit and fear that had lodged itself into his parched throat and started thinking differently.

Maybe this glass-eater fellow needed help.

“You don’t look alright, man,” said Sammie. “I can get you a doc. You want me to get you a doc?”

Glass-eater tilted his head the other way and did not answer the question. Instead, without breaking eye contact, he picked up another shard and brought it to his lips, parting them and inserting it into his bloodied jaws.

Crunch, crunch.

“You, uh, you know where you at? This is my home,” Sammie said. “I can get you—I will go get a doc, alright?”

Crunch. Crunch. Dead stare.

“Maybe, uhm, stop eatin’ all that—uh, all that glass?”

Crunch. Staring unbroken.

“I will go find the doc,” Sammie said, walking out of his cabin without turning his back, not daring to turn until he had distanced himself from the door by several slow and careful paces, as one should in the presence of a beast in the wild.

Slowly peeling his gaze from their unnervingly long eye contact, he shot a glance over his shoulder every few steps, making sure that the crazy man still sat there and did not just jump up from the chair and give chase.

Instead, he continued to calmly eat more of the broken glass. With growing distance, Sammie could not hear those blackened teeth crunching down on the shards. He merely heard the haunting echo of it in his mind.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch.

His pace accelerated and he nearly jogged the last bit towards the rows of buildings that constituted Dead End’s main street. Bumped right into someone, nearly falling onto his ass as he stumbled sideways past the next person.

A man in black, standing tall, the powder of the trails sticking to a long duster coat. U.S. Marshal’s star on his belt, two six-shooters slung into holsters hanging from a belt around his hips. A visage featuring a symmetry broken up only by a milky-white eye, framed by a scar speaking volumes of a beast’s claw raking over the lawman’s face.

The marshal’s one good eye scanned Sammie up and down while he caught himself. Sammie nearly soiled his pants right then and there, at the mere thought of all the trouble he might get into if this lawman got on his case and misunderstood the situation somehow. Just find the doctor, now, and—

“What in the hell is wrong with you, son?” asked the marshal with a growl. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

He tipped his hat at Sammie and hooked a thumb into his belt, demonstratively flapping open one side of his coat to display the badge and one of his revolvers.

“O-oh, uh, it's—it’s, uh, it's—uhm, it’s nothin’, sir,” stammered Sammie. “Jus’ lookin’ for a, uh, physician, bit of a personal medical ‘mergency?”

He silently cursed himself for being such a bumbling coward, now of all times. Swallowed another lump stuck in this throat. His heart now pounded as fiercely as it had when he found the severed head.

Shit. The severed head.

Sammie had nearly forgotten about that.

The marshal took a step closer towards him and lowered his voice to what could only be described as a conspiratorial whisper, “Listen, I know there are strange things goin’ on in this town. You lead me to 'em, I oughtta have a shot at fixin’ these things somehow.”

He rolled his jaw and then set it while he awaited a response from Sammie. Sammie’s mind and thoughts however melted into a puddle of worthless soup.

Sammie blurted out the words, “Ah, shit, m-man—uh, I mean, uh—I-I need your h-help, sir.” He then lowered his voice to a desperately pleading hiss. “There’s some crazy man in my house. H-he's—he’s eatin’ glass, man. And talkin’ weird.”

He could get to the head later. Or maybe that would never come up.

Sammie held his breath, ready to soon be staring down the wrong end of one of those revolvers.

Instead, the marshal nodded and ordered, “Show me.”

He led the lawman back down the trail. Noticed a whiff of something dead and rotten about him, leaving him to wonder if something was not off about the marshal, as well. At the very least, Sammie hoped, that might throw him off from noticing a head in the sack out in the bushes nearby. Then he wondered if it was even a human head in there, as he had never bothered to look inside. Then he quietly scolded himself to shut about it already, like he might draw attention to the bloody linen sack if he thought too much about it.

Approaching the cabin, hasty step by step, he expected to find the glass-eater missing and putting him in the predicament of having to explain things. Things like this did not happen. Should not happen.

Some part of him dreamt that this was just a nightmare, and he was about to wake up anytime soon. No such luck, though. His body still ached from the day, the sun set on the horizon, and every step hurt his blistered right heel. It was all too real.

Like a dream, he hoped to cross that threshold and find no sign of the glass-eater. To find everything in its rightful place, to wonder if he was just losing his own damned mind.

But Sammie froze by the door. The stranger still sat there, gingerly picking up another shard of glass, bringing it to those bloodied split lips and the crimson fluids running down his chin in rivulets, and then chewing on the shard.

Crunch, crunch. For some reason, it reminded Sammie of bones now. Like this was the sound that bones made when something ate them. Snapping, cracking, crunching.

Crunch. Crunch.

A calloused hand clapped down on Sammie’s shoulder, tearing him out of this new daze of his. The marshal squeezed his shoulder for a second and then pushed past him, stepping inside the cabin.

“Sir?” the marshal asked. “This your home?”

Even with his back turned to Sammie, the marshal’s presence was imposing. All dressed in black and looking weathered, it was like he absorbed all the remnants of light in these gloomy cramped quarters, like he had a strange inverse halo about him where all light bent and gathered around him.

Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again, just like he had when speaking with Sammie.

“Yes, of course this is my home,” the stranger spoke, another bubble forming between his tortured lips.

Unfazed by his condition and what all those shards must have been doing to his—in his—

Sammie fought the urge to throw up at the thought. The marshal cast an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, catching Sammie’s gaze. For a moment, he worried if he had to argue about some crazy man walking onto his property and getting other people to testify that this was, in fact his home.

The marshal did not question it, though, instead turned his attention right back to the glass-eater.

“All under the sky is my home, now, as we awaken, sea, by sea,” said the stranger, cementing what the lawman must have instinctively grasped. “You are a child of the mountains. I am the ocean.”

His thin fingers—and only now, somehow, as it grew darker, did it dawn on Sammie what was so off-putting about them—grabbed another shard from the bowl. His fingers looked the way they did because all the skin and nails from their tips had been flayed off somehow. Just bloodied skeletal husks of what they must have been, thinning towards the tips.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“That so?” asked the marshal. He shot another glance at Sammie, his brow arched.

The marshal knew. He understood the insanity of this situation. The madness of that man.

To the glass-eater, he then added, “You touch any… strange objects lately, sir?”

Crunch, crunch.

“You involved on the rail work between here and Louisville?”

Crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again. More blood trickled from the corner of his sealed lips. His eyes sparkled with something strange in the dying light.

Crunch.

“You even remember a name anymore?”

Crunch. Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater grabbed another shard, not breaking eye contact with the marshal.

“My name is the many, and my song is the return. I am the ocean,” he finally replied, putting particular emphasis on the word “am”. It echoed in Sammie’s mind.

The marshal violently expelled air from his nostrils, something in between a sigh and a groan.

“Shit,” he said.

In a flash, loud claps of gunshots pierced the air. The stinging smell of gunpowder soon hit Sammie’s nostrils. The deafening noise startled Sammie, sending him reeling, stumbling backwards, away from the eruptions of muzzle flashes brightly illuminating the gloomy cabin for split seconds. Then another volley of shots ripped, fired from both revolvers, one in each hand of the marshal.

The glass-eater dropped the shard into the bowl and looked down at his chest, now pockmarked with pitch-black bleeding bullet holes. He probed one of the wounds with those skeletal fingertips, almost in disbelief. Not trembling with fear or weakness—no—with a certainty that seemed wholly unnatural.

More thunderclaps, more shots released from the revolvers until both weapons had been emptied through repeated fire. The glass-eater slumped over the table, the wooden bowl with the glass hurtled to the floor where the shards sprayed in every direction with high-pitched clinking, and the stranger stopped moving.

Frozen in shock, Sammie knew not what to do.

Why in God’s name had he just shot the man?

“Too late to save that poor bastard. Too far gone,” the marshal growled, followed by another sigh; almost as if he had read Sammie’s mind and responded to his thought.

The floorboards thumped and thundered, and spurs jingled, as the marshal strode through the narrow cabin’s interior, closing in on the dead body of the glass-eater. He poked him with the smoking barrel of one of his pistols, then used it to lift the lifeless head and ensure the stranger had expired. A veritable vomit of blood poured out from the dead man’s half-open mouth.

Still dumbfounded and with a panic budding deep down, Sammie was only moments removed from running away and looking for help. Because now he feared the marshal again, perhaps far more than ever before.

What if he found the head? Blamed it on him? Blamed glass-eater on him Gunned him down without question? Without trial?

The thoughts circled at the speed of a hundred miles a minute, but they also rooted him firmly in place while the marshal’s eyes scanned Sammie’s meager possessions around the cabin. Then their eyes met again.

“You hold on, sir,” the marshal said, taking a step towards him. “I will get this mess cleaned up, lickety-split. Damn shame he had to ruin your home like that. And I reckon I, uh—I apologize for the holes I put into your back wall.”

He had already holstered the guns, which had happened so quickly that Sammie never registered it. He wanted to back away, but now dreaded seeing those guns flash right back out, giving him the same treatment of judge, jury, and executioner, all in one.

Instead, the marshal dug around in his duster and produced a silver amulet. Its shape looked foreign, odd—not a crucifix, not a locket, not a pocket watch—before he could discern its precise form, the marshal clutched it firmly in his fist and whispered something incomprehensible.

A warm light flared up in the cabin for a split second. The stench of rotten eggs suddenly filled the air, adding to Sammie’s nausea. And he heard something fidget in there, just out of sight. The marshal looked at a corner—focused on something just out of sight for Sammie. He only needed to step inside to follow his gaze, but—

Something held him back. Something in there had appeared out of nowhere, and it unsettled him deeply. Made his mind race even faster, so fast he could not form a single coherent thought.

“You clean up here, alright?” the marshal spoke to whoever was in the corner.

Pause. Scratching sounds.

“No, we will not discuss this now. Just clean it up, and we can bicker later,” the marshal said, responding to seemingly nothing.

Another long pause, more scratching sounds. Someone else was in there. Or something.

The marshal walked outside the front door, paused, swiveled, and closed the door behind him. He cracked a feeble smile at Sammie, something that screamed of dishonesty. Or perhaps pain. Or regret.

Sammie did not know what to do. He had to tell others about this. Get word out. They might think he was crazy, but if the marshal was truly crazier than him and the glass-eater combined, then he might find protection in numbers. Hell, maybe even that useless sheriff might help cover him if the going got rough.

The marshal lifted the amulet to eye height between them and then let it drop. It dangled from its silvery chain and Sammie tried to study it as it swung back and forth.

Up close, it looked like a long, steel cylinder, roughly the length of half his pinky finger. Reddened grooves coiled around it at rhythmically pleasing intervals, and strange symbols etched into the side formed a harmonic pattern all over its surface. The symbols reminded him of arithmetic, for some reason, though Sammie was illiterate.

“Look at the amulet, sir,” said the marshal, his voice now flat and calm. Almost soothing. “Next thing you know, all these worries o’ yours will be wiped away.”

Another flash of light. Next thing Sammie knew, he was walking down main street, in Dead End. No recollection of anything that had just transpired.

His body ached. Every muscle in him complained about the long day of toil behind him. He just yearned to sink into a bath and wash off all the grit and filth from the coal mine. His weary calloused hands burned from clutching the pickaxe and shovel that he carried on his shoulder. His tired gait gained more zest as he veered off to the side, taking the open spot between the buildings and following the dirt path back to his cabin.

The day had been entirely too damn long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s rest.

Night had somehow come faster than it should have, he reckoned. They had worked late, but he must have been so tired that he did not realize how fast the sun set on his way home.

Must have just been that time of year.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

He did not trip over anything this time. He did not notice anything amiss in his cabin when he plunked down his tools on the table and looked around for some jerky to bite. He went about the rest of his evening. Oblivious to what had happened here earlier.

Something had reached deep inside his mind and scrubbed it clean. No head, no glass-eater, no marshal, no shooting, no talisman. Just some missing time he could explain away.

The marshal’s talisman worked like a charm.

—Submitted by Wratts

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 40

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 40: Tommy moves the vendetta along while Kate confides in him about what Polly said. 

            Late that night, Kate and Tommy were in bed but neither of them could sleep. Their minds were racing with everything that had been going on.

            “Did you speak with Aberama more?” Kate asked. The silence was killing her so she was desperate to break it.

            “Yes,” Tommy said, holding her close. “He wants me to make his son a champion boxer. Says that’s all he wants apart from the money.”

            “The kid on the horse?” Kate frowned. “He didn’t look very big.”

            “He’s not. But apparently, he can pack a punch.” He sighed. “I don’t have high hopes but if it’ll make Aberama happy, then why not?”

            “So that’s what you’ll be doing tomorrow?”  

            He nodded. “May is coming to pick up a horse. I was hoping you could go down to the yard to speak with her. I asked her to look after Blue for you while we were away. I’ll send Isaiah and Finn with you.”

            “Oh, good. I’d like to ask her how he’s doing.” Kate already missed going out to the stables to see the beautiful gelding. She missed a lot about Arrow House. She missed dancing in the ballroom, having breakfast out on the lawn, the clean air, and seeing Tommy smile in the sun.

            “Pol said she talked to you after the funeral.”

            Kate stifled a groan. She should’ve realized Polly was going to push her to tell Tommy. “Yeah, she came to see me before she went to the yard.”

            “She was implying that it might’ve been an important conversation.”

            The room fell quiet again and it was driving Kate mad. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been feeling sick for about a week, I guess. Polly seems to think I might be pregnant.”

            Tommy clearly had not been expecting such news. He thought maybe Polly was talking to Kate about séances or the Changrettas. He sat up a bit to look at her. But for a long pause, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

            She could hardly meet his eyes. “I know it’s not a good time. I told her maybe it was just stress. I don’t think…well I don’t know for sure. I just thought it was such a shit time to be pregnant.” She stammered, hoping Tommy would interrupt her.

            He touched her cheek. “It’s okay.” His voice was steady even though his fear was suddenly heightened. There was no fooling Polly when it came to babies, so more than likely his aunt was right. Now he had to look after his unborn child. “It’s going to be okay.” He repeated it if only to calm himself down. “But you cannot tell anyone else about this. This stays between you, Polly, and me.”

            Kate nodded. She understood. A pregnant fiancée was the perfect target for a vendetta or even a hostage situation. News of a pregnancy would put them all at more risk. “Okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

            He hugged her close. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it through this and, when the time comes we’ll go back to Arrow House to raise a family.”

~~~`~~~~~~~ 

            Isaiah and Finn walked with Kate down to Charlie’s yard so she could meet with May. They arrived just as the trailer truck was pulling up beside the canal.

            May got out of the truck and smiled politely when she saw Kate. “Tommy said you’d be here to meet me.” She waved to Curly as he came over to open the trailer for the horse.

            “I was hoping it would be under better circumstances,” Kate admitted. “Thank you for taking Blue in while we’re away though. That means a lot to me.”

            “Of course. Any horse trainer would love to have a stunning horse like yours around the stables.”

            “I miss him already,” Kate admitted. “But hopefully we’ll be back soon. Once Tommy’s business is finished.”

            “How is Tommy?” May inquired.

            “Well…”

            “He’s got the Americans after him, Mrs. Carleton.” Curly piped up as he and Charlie lowered the ramp.

            “Americans?” May raised an eyebrow.

            “The mafia.”

            “Dear God.”

            Kate sighed and nodded. “It’s Tommy Shelby, what else could you expect?” She tried to laugh it off. But she wanted to blurt out that the Italians were after her too for what she’d done to Santo. Everyone could go around blaming Tommy but she knew that they all had a hand in it. No one was blameless.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            When Tommy came home that night, he was frantic. He tore his coat off and rushed into the kitchen where Kate was boiling water. “Did anyone come to find you today?”

            She was startled by his sudden appearance, she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door. “Today? Who would…what are you talking about?”

            “Did anyone approach you today? Did anyone come to the house? Did anyone call?”

            “No, I just spoke to May Carleton at the Yard and came back here. I haven’t been anywhere today. The only phone call I got was from Ada.” She replied. “Tommy, what is going on?”

            “Luca Changretta. He showed up. Walked right through the fucking door and into me office.” His voice was teetering on the edge of breaking.

            Kate’s face went pale. “What? You mean…you saw him? He was there?” The brazen move wasn’t completely unlike Luca’s mode of operation, but it was still shocking to hear.

            “I had a whole fucking conversation with him, Kate. If he had a gun and wanted to shoot me, I’d be fucking dead!” He shouted.

            “Where was everyone? How could he have just walked in?” She was panicked. Their territory was supposed to be safe as long as they weren’t out alone.

            “The whole factory walked out. Those communists raised up a strike, they all fucking walked out. It’s that Jessie Eden. Emptied the whole place so Luca fucking Changretta could walk right in!”

            Kate gripped the edge of her sweater as she sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “It was just an opportunity he took, Tom. The Italians wouldn’t work with communists here.” She replied quietly. “They don’t get political when it comes to vendettas.”

            “Well, he at least knew it was going to fucking happen. He didn’t just wander in there on chance. He knew when it was going to happen, where it was going to happen, and where I was going to be when it happened. Someone who knows a lot told him. And I need to find out who or we’re all dead.”

            Kate nodded, too caught up in what-ifs to say much. She wasn’t going to argue with him about being dramatic. It really was a matter of life or death at this point. And if Polly was right about the baby, she had a lot to protect. “You need to talk to Ada and you need to find out who in the factory has authority over these sorts of things. If-if you have to, then you’ll have to speak to Jessie Eden again.”

            Tommy continued to pace back and forth around the kitchen before he stopped to take out a cigarette. “I need to get men back on the line. We need to keep the factories active. I need to get the family’s approval to give the bullet to Aberama.”

            Kate watched him moving about frantically. His hand was shaking as he lit the cigarette. “What…like you’re going to hire him to kill Luca instead? Tom, I thought he was just protection? You said Arthur was going to kill Luca.”

            “I’m not risking anyone else from my family to bring that bastard down. I’m not losing another brother.”  

            She could agree with the sentiment but she knew how vendettas worked. “Arthur’s not going to listen.”

            Tommy took a few drags from the cigarette by the kitchen window. His blue eyes always seemed to be watching for something, waiting for an attack, preparing a plan for an ambush. It seemed useless to try and cast aside the soldier that was inside of him, always on the ready, always on the lookout. It was foolish, his instincts from the war were the only things keeping him alive. “That’s why I’m putting it to a family vote. He won’t have a choice if the others agree with me.”

            “I told you not to alienate them any further.”

            “This is a matter of protecting him.”

            “Tom, he’s angry, you know this is how the game is played. He wants revenge for what Luca did to John!”

            “I decide how the fucking game is played!” Tommy shouted. His loud voice coming from seeming nowhere. “I won’t hold another fucking funeral for one of my kin. Not again. He can be fucking angry but he’s not being stupid!”

            Kate didn’t shy away from him. She was intelligent to know that his emotions weren’t directed at her. She wasn’t the root of his angst. So, she stood up and took the cigarette from his hand, tossing it into the basin beside them. “You said I was your voice of reason. The mediator in all of this.” She cradled his cheek with one hand and ran the other through his hair. “All I’m doing is telling you what to expect from Arthur. I’m not taking sides because there shouldn’t be any sides to take. You’re all family. You’re not enemies. Luca is the enemy. If you give into all this fighting, this bickering, then you might as well surrender.”

            Tommy realized that he always took deep breaths around her. At first, he thought it was because he found her perfume comforting. But come to find out, it was because she had become his rock. Something to ground him, center him, and steady his racing thoughts.

            He found her lips, kissing her deeply as she knotted her fingers in his hair. Perhaps to blow off some steam, or maybe they were just craving each other’s presence, Kate and Tommy were quick to rid each other of their clothes.

            Tommy beat Kate to it, easily getting her sweater and dress off while she was still trying to rid him of all the layers he wore. Before she could even get to the top buttons of his dress shirt, he swept her off her feet to place her on the kitchen table.

            Their kissing became feverish, Kate begging between breaths. “Please, Tommy.” Her hand moved from his hair to grip onto the edge of the table as he worked two fingers into her. Her head lolled back with a grateful moan and Tommy mouthed at her neck and collarbone.

            But the moment was not to last as there was a loud banging at the front door. Usually, Tommy and Kate would choose to ignore a disturbance, but given the heightened atmosphere, they both drew apart.

            “Tommy!” Arthur shouted from the front door. “We need you at the office. We’ve got men coming in who are willing to work tomorrow!”

            Knowing it wasn’t a threat, Tommy groaned and weighed the options. Process paperwork of factory workers all night or fuck his gorgeous fiancée until she was crying his name for all of Small Heath to hear.

            Kate saw the conflict in his eyes. “Go.” She murmured before giving him a quick kiss.

            He sighed and stepped away from her so he could compose himself. Kate slipped off the kitchen table and put on her dress again. But before she could shoo him out the door, he pressed her up against the kitchen counter to properly kiss her goodbye.

            Arthur banged on the door again with his fist. “Tommy! I ain’t fucking doing this alone, so get out here!”

            It would be a long night. Especially knowing Kate was waiting for him at home.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Tommy was at the office late, taking in the paperwork for the foremen who were willing to cross the picket line and work at the Shelby’s factories during the strikes. He got home about one in the morning. By then, Kate was already fast asleep and hardly even stirred when he got into bed with her.

            It wouldn’t be a restful night. At five in the morning, he was out the door, leaving Kate a note as she continued to sleep soundly.

             Kate,

I’ve gone early to the factory. It’ll be a long day of business for me. If you’d like to come sit in on the meeting about Arthur and Aberama, we’ll be meeting at the hospital at noon. In the meantime, I would like you to send out a telegram to Alfie to ask him if he knows anything about gin.

            I love you, see you soon

            Tommy

             Kate found the request for telegramming Alfie odd, especially given the subject. Gin? What on Earth did they need to know about gin at a time like this? But she complied, sending a letter to Alfie giving him her well wishes, informing him about the engagement, asking after Cyril, and finally inquiring about gin.

            By the time she sent the telegram, it was about time to head over to the hospital. Two Lee boys showed up, fully armed to escort her to the hospital.

            She arrived just after Tommy and before the rest. He greeted her with a kiss and pulled out a chair for her.

            “Michael, how are you feeling?” She asked sympathetically.

            “Better, thanks. Should be back on my feet soon.”

            “That’s good to hear.” She smiled.

            Tommy lingered around the door, waiting for the others to arrive. “Were you able to send out the telegram?”

            “Mhm.” She nodded. “What’s so important about gin that Alfie needs to know?”

            “Now that we’re distilling it, I was wondering if I could get his opinion.” He replied casually, but there was clearly something he wasn’t saying.

            And Kate was onto him immediately. “You really think that should be our priority with him? Gin? Are you sure there isn’t anything else I should’ve asked him over the telegram?”

            He shook his head. “Nope, nothing that could be said over telegram.”

            “Ah.” She nodded. “So, it needs to be said in person.” She understood.

            The door opened and Polly, Ada, and Lizzie all made themselves comfortable around the table. Polly gently touched Kate’s shoulder. A gesture that Kate knew the meaning of. She wanted to know how Kate was feeling but didn’t want to raise questions. No one else could know about the pregnancy, not even Ada or Lizzie.

            “Where’s Arthur?” Tommy asked.

            “Do I look like his fucking mother?” Polly retorted.

            He glanced at his watch with frustration. “We need to get started without him then.”

            Knowing what was on the agenda, Kate balked. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom. Maybe we should find out where he is to make sure he’s okay.”

            “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can figure out why he’s late.” He replied in a strict business tone before carrying on with the meeting as planned.

            Kate did her best to listen but once the photographs of Luca were distributed, she could hardly hear anything else but her own heartbeat in her ears. It had been a long time since she’d seen Luca. She went years hoping she would never see his face ever again. He was a tentative ally of Santo during the time Kate was bootlegging. With his connections in New York and Chicago, he made it difficult for her in every sense of the business. Many times he tried to coax her into handing over her assets in the best interest of herself and her mother. Kate was convinced that Luca had something to do with the Chicago outfit killing her mother. Ever since then, she despised his name and that of his family.

            “You look pale, Kate.” Ada interrupted Kate’s ruminating.

            Polly looked up from the photograph with concern. “Maybe you should go for a walk.” She suggested. “I’ll see if the nurse will get you a glass of water.”

            Tommy became nervous at the idea of people picking up on the subtle hints that Kate was potentially pregnant. If fewer people knew, Tommy could keep better control of things. Better control over the things Luca could leverage against him.

            “She’s fine, Pol,” Tommy interjected in a clipped tone.

            Ada looked aghast at her brother’s seemingly lack of care for his fiancée.

            But Kate understood. “He’s right. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I was worried about the strike.” She explained and attempted to look a little less sick to her stomach. “I’ll be right back; you can continue without me.” She stood and went out to get a bit of fresh air. Even as she left, the image of Luca’s face was planted in her head. A mixture of anger and fear was making her blood race. No way she would let that man take anything else from her or her newfound family. No way.

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