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adventuresloane · 4 years

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Chicken Soup for the Undead Soul

Summary: "'Alright, I'm here to make chicken soup and accidentally scorch your petunias,' she said, 'and I've already...well, sorry about that.'"

This is...bonding? Kravitz thinks this is bonding. (Taako gets sick and Lup and Kravitz cook for him idk what else you need to know.)

Rating: T (for safety)

Relationships: Kravitz & Lup, Kravitz/Taako

((Yes it’s another of my ask meme fics I polished up and put on AO3 u gotta deal))

Read on AO3

As was her wont, Lup called, "Anyone home," didn't wait for a response, and then phased into the house through the two inches of wood. Kravitz stopped, then set the lamp he was holding back into the box of baby blue packing peanuts. He waited for the smell of burning living room curtain to reach his nose. Luckily, it didn't, this time.

She floated in the foyer and looked around in a confident, surveying manner, skeletal hands on her hypothetical hips, as though he weren't standing right in front of her. "Alright, I'm here to make chicken soup and accidentally scorch your petunias," she said, "and I've already...well, sorry about that."

Those had been purchased and planted hardly four days prior, but Kravitz didn't remark on that. "Lup. You don't know how glad I am you're here."

She gave a congenial little shrug, causing the flames that rose from her shoulders to shiver upwards before falling again. "Well, hope I didn't keep you waiting. How's Taako?" The question came out quickly. It was particularly relevant today, but it was also one of the first things she asked every time she came in. "That doofus had better be sleeping."

"He's trying upstairs, I think. Not that I would get my hopes up."

"'Trying?'"

"Yes." Kravitz waited. The black, featureless face inside her red hood stayed fixed on him, and she did not carry on the conversation as he'd hoped she would. It seemed that she wanted more from him. "Well...well, I think it's hard for him. He hasn't slept once in the time that I've known him, or in the past decade at all, as far as he's told me. I'm sure he's out of practice if all he does is Trance."

"Oh! Right, right," she said. There was a beat, and then it passed. In the same tone that she'd had when she'd first floated in, she continued, "Well, whatever. He's lucky he's capable of lying in a bed at all."

"Ha, yes," Kravitz said, right before he said nothing. For a few moments that felt too long and vaguely sweaty to him, he stared at Lup, and presumably she stared back, in spite of the fact that he couldn't tell where her eyes were. Her spectral form bobbed slightly up and down in the air, and flames with dark red centers licked off the char-black bones of her hands, and suddenly he was rather glad she always knocked rather than, say, floating up through the floor unannounced when she felt like it. And now the silence was decidedly awkward. He pushed aside one of several unopened cardboard boxes with his foot. "Um, it's his own fault, really. Taako's been spending all his time trying to unpack and organize the house at the same time he's getting things organized to start his school. It's no wonder he's fallen ill--"

"Language." He turned to face her when she piped up. "Just say 'got sick.' No one says 'fall ill' anymore."

He couldn't quite hold back his grimace.

"Hey, you were the one who asked me to correct you when you talked like an old geezer."

This was true. It was also true, he was sure, that she enjoyed chastising him for a change, when normally he was the one telling her what to do during reaper training. He moved on. "Anyway, like I said, I'm glad I have you here to help now."

"Everything going alright so far."

"Yes. Well, I think so. I pre-salted the chicken, like you said. It's been waiting for five hours."

"That'll do. We can start on the broth. So how about the seasonings I told you to get? Did you pick up the rosemary?"

"Yes."

"And the parsley?"

"Two teaspoons of dried."

"And the oregano?"

He screeched to a stop, balked. There was no way. He had double- and triple-checked the list she had given him. He couldn't have missed anything. Could he have missed anything? He didn't know anything about cooking, but Taako always said something about the balance of flavors, and what if he'd just pulled a playing card out from the middle of the tower--

She laughed. "I'm fucking with you. Lighten up, dude." She attempted to pat him on the shoulder as she floated past him into the kitchen. Her hand passed right through him a couple times, but eventually she hard enough to make contact. Sometimes she spent a lot of time trying to touch corporeal things. Maybe that was how she'd burned the flowers. "Anyway, who's gonna use oregano when you've already got a buttload of rosemary in there? Come on."

But that was what he was here for today, to be her hands. According to her, there was precious little room for error when making this soup if they wanted to do it The Right Way, no leeway for her to accidentally drop in too much celery or pepper. There was precious little room for error, Kravitz reminded himself as he followed her instructions to strip the chicken meat from the bones.

"I bought a few different kinds of noodles, since I wasn't sure what was best," he said. "There's those twisty egg noodles, thin pasta, the flat ones--"

"Flat," Lup answered rather like a patient schoolteacher, "and don't break them up when you put them in the soup. He'll slurp them up one-by-one when no one's watching, but he'll never admit that."

"Right." He wanted to say, I knew that. He didn't exactly know, not from experience, and yet it was the kind of thing he'd expected from Taako. He felt like he didn't have to be told.

"That comes later, though," she said. "The noodles cook separately, and it doesn't take long."

"Oh. Alright."

"We used to make the noodles from scratch back on the ship and save them for rainy days, but store-bought's gonna have to do. Hey, do you have a pepper mill?"

"A what?"

"You know, for grinding up fresh-cracked pepper. Taako likes a lot of it."

Kravitz thought. "I think Taako does, but it might be in storage." He clumsily tried to get his nails under the papery skin of a garlic bulb, trying to peel it off. "Did he tell you he likes it fresh-ground better?"

Lup cocked her head a little. "I don't think he told me, per se. He just...well, he always used to like it that way, at least."

He nodded, stiffly. Then he continued nodding through a litany of other questions and corrections from her, about keeping the skin on the onions when he puts them in and how often he'll need to skim the fat from the top of the broth and how to extract the flavor from the bones and how much anise to add. There was a temptation to remark that he could, in fact, operate a stove. But he would say this for her: for someone who came across as so impulsive sometimes, she was surprisingly fastidious when it came to cooking. She knew everything about this dish. About what Taako liked about it. Given that he didn't feel hunger and as such hadn't done much in the way of cooking for hundreds of years, he had little choice but to listen to her. Although it would be nice if she could stop instructing him long enough for him to try to absorb what he was doing, so that he could remember all these details himself, for the next time Taako got sick.

He was so busy trying to keep up with her that he barely registered it when she abruptly switched to praise. "You're not half-bad, Skele-friend."

"Huh?" he responded, all dignity. "Oh, well, I'm just doing what you tell me. Or trying to."

"Yeah, well, you're doing a good job of it. Especially since you haven't taken orders from anyone less than a goddess for, what, a few centuries?"

"And you haven't made this recipe in quite some time. It's incredible how well you remember it."

She paused. "Taako's the one who always used to make it, actually," she murmured. "I'd be the helper. Unless I was the one who was sick. Then he'd do it himself. I feel like it's about time I returned the favor."

Kravitz couldn't keep from grinning at the thought. "I had a feeling he'd be a caring older brother."

"He's not my older brother. We're twins."

"Who's older, though?"

"Neither, we were born at the same time!"

"So you're the younger one."

She attempted to give him a playful shove. "Of course you'd take his side," she said in an exaggerated grumble. "I suppose you've had siblings?"

"Yes," he said quietly. He returned to stirring and said nothing else. Mercifully, she got the hint. After a moment, she materialized a white wand of sharpened bone into her hand (one of Barry's ulnas that he'd gifted to her, she'd told Kravitz once, which...said something about their relationship, alright). He watched her point it into the broth.

His side-eye must have been more obvious than he'd suspected, because she huffed when she caught sight of him staring. For someone whose face was little more than a black void with an ember-like glow of red at the center, she could give quite the eye-roll. "Relax, Mr. Death Cop. It's healing magic." She stopped for a moment, apparently to judge whether she could push her luck. "Though, you know, necromancy is hardly different from the stuff clerics do every day."

"I'm no great arcanist, Lup. I just take down cultists. And you know that whether or not clerics do it doesn't matter to the Raven Queen. Whether it's Vampiric Touch or Revivify, it's still a corruption of fate."

"Alright, spare me the speech, please. I'm just saying," she said with another shrug. "I am an arcanist, and I can tell you that it's the same kind of magical energy to heal or hurt, just flowing in different directions."

There had been an eon when he had felt that as opposed to simply knowing it, back before he'd had a scythe or a home in the Astral Plane. When he could ease his mother's headaches with a song.

"Shit," she shouted out of nowhere, and simultaneously, blue flames from the gas burners shot up suddenly. Kravitz scrambled for the heat dials. "Shit, wait, I just remembered something."

"What is it? Did we forget something?"

"Doesn't everything he eat taste like Gogurt now?" Her voice began to pitch up a little, grow strained. "What if he can't even taste the soup?"

"It's okay, Lup," he responded before she could go on. "I've asked him about that. He said soup doesn't count for the curse. He'll be able to taste it."

"Oh." She sounded as though she'd let out a sigh of relief, though she lacked lungs. "Okay, I just wasn't sure. Magnus had to tell me that, you know. I wouldn't have even known Taako was cursed otherwise."

Kravitz glanced her way. "Does that bother you?"

"It's not like he has to tell me," she said quickly. Then she hesitated, which, as far as he had learned, was not characteristic. She could be patient, but not hesitant, not unassured. "It's just weird that I...don't already know, I guess. I've just--you'll want a chef's knife for that."

"Which one is--?"

"Curved blade. And it's easier if you don't move the knife back and forth. Just pass the carrot under the blade while you chop." She sighed. "Anyway, I just missed things. A lot."

Kravitz bit his lip. "Well...you still know him like no one else. You realize that, don't you? I feel like I'm playing catch-up with all the rest of you. You all had a hundred years to figure him out. And you in particular had quite a few more."

"You're not doing too bad on that front already, bud." He could have sworn he saw a smile peek out from under the hood. He didn't recall her ever calling him "bud" before. "Not from what Taako's told me, anyway."

He stopped stirring the wooden spoon through the golden fluid for awhile. "I guess it's good you'll be moving in with us before too long, huh? We can bring each other up to speed."

"Listen, this shit's gonna be done before long. Why don't you take it up to him yourself?"

Kravitz looked her way. "You sure? It's your soup. You don't want to come up with me?"

"I'll see him plenty later. I'm sure I will."

Minutes later, he was knocking on the door of Taako's bedroom--their shared bedroom, now, with a new king-sized bed and mattress. There were a few instances of throat-clearing before Kravitz heard a croak of "Come in."

He pushed through the door, steaming bowl in both hands. "Hey, darling, have you slept at all?"

"Can't sleep at the best of times, babe." Taako followed up the answer with a snort. "This cold's some bullshit."

He chuckled. "I told you you'd get sick if you kept working like you've been."

"Can it, Bone-Hands McGee." He sat up and struggled to sniff some air through his stuffed nose. "Hey, is that--?"

"Lup helped." He lifted his shoulders in a way that he hoped would come across as self-effacing, as if the soup in his hands didn't smell like absolute heaven.

"That so?" He wiped his nose with a tissue, though not before Kravitz saw the blush creep into his warm cheeks. He saw that blush a lot, and always just at the moment that the two of them met eyes. Each time was a gift, whether Taako meant to give it to him or not. "Let's give it a whirl then."

Kravitz sat next to him on the bed and watched the whole while as Taako held the bowl under his nose, let the steam waft up into his sinuses, tipped his head back to show his smooth neck and closed his eyes and drank the broth slowly. Then he licked his lips abruptly and said, "Not bad for someone who considers fancy wine to be an entire meal. Hey, get out of my bed of contagion. You're the one who's gonna get sick next."

He chuckled and ran a hand through Taako's already pillow-ruffled hair. "That's the nice thing about being dead already, sweetheart. I can't get sick." To prove the point, he kissed his cheek.

He kept doing it, in fact, as he and Taako sat together and as the soup was slowly consumed. He hummed softly, then sang more so. And a few times, when he touched his lips to his boyfriend's skin, he tried to dredge up the kind of magic that he hadn't hadn't used for centuries, for the majority of his life. Not since he'd been alive. It felt far different from the kind he used to electrocute or grapple a necromantic cultist, and at first it felt like trying to run water through a pipe that hadn't seen a drop in decades. But he felt the warmth of the magic like he felt the vibration of his vocal chords, energy coming from deep inside of him, from nothing. Taako seemed to breathe more easily as the Healing Word took effect.

It was after the bowl had been sitting empty for awhile that Kravitz felt Taako's breathing slow next to him and take on the rhythm not of meditation, but of sleep.

#lup #kravitz #taz lup #taz kravitz #lup taaco #taako #taz taako #taako taaco #taz #the adventure zone #taz balance #the zone cast #fan fiction #taz fanfic #taz fan fiction #domestic fluff #fluff #food cw

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Ecologies of Rebuilding Your Life || Morgan & Frankie

Frankie tries out a college class. Morgan remembers her past.

@offrankies

“...And who is it that determines the definition of humanity? What kind of definitions do we see offered by Victor, or Henry Cleveral, or the Creature?” Morgan asked the class. The students, while not thrilled with some of Mary Shelley’s ‘big words’ had enough preparation to offer semi thoughtful ideas. Obviously, Victor thought he could define what human means. One of her try-hard students, eager to work his way into his advanced courses, posited that while Victor’s definition of humanity is the one that dominates the narrative, the intrusion of the creature’s perspective halfway through the book is meant to compel the reader into questioning its validity. “Yes!” Morgan tossed the kid a candy from her bowl. “The midpoint crisis here upends our expectations through thought, rather than action. It is, structurally, the center, the heart of the story, changing what we believe to be true. But, are we convinced by the Creature’s definition of his humanity? Why or why--”

Morgan’s timer, the theme song of The X-Files, went off.

“Shit. Alright, that’s time everybody! Do your homework, do your reading, and get ready for Fan-Fiction Friday! And you--” She pointed to the newcomer sandwiched at the corner of the seminar table. “Come see me for a minute. The rest of you, glad you love each other, but please get out.” As the room cleared out she began to gather up her things. “I don’t like to call out guests who are here to spectate, but you seem like you might be trying out the seminar for yourself. Can I ask what brings you by? I think you’ve got one more day to add this into your schedule if you’re thinking about it.”

Had it not been for Frankie’s good grades, and because her mother had moved the sky, the sea and the Earth to convince the principal to allow her to take her finals online, she would’ve ended a high school dropout. But Frankie had been lucky, and she knew she couldn’t pass the possibility of enrolling in the local college; which was why she was sitting in the back of a classroom, listening to a college lecture. It felt good learning again, the big “nerd” sign she had carried through school across her forehead as visible as always; but it was clear that she was struggling - not because of the subject, but because there were so many colors cramped together in the room it made it hard to focus. Except for the professor, who didn’t have any. There were, apparently, more vampires than she had initially guessed.

Being called out as she tried to quietly sneak out of the room made her freeze, a visible wince showing on her face. Were listeners not allowed? She had no idea, and as she followed the professor’s instructions and walked to her desk, Frankie’s heartbeat sped up, her mouth already open to justify herself, but being cut short by the woman’s voice. Her lips pressed together, hands playing with the strap of her backpack as she thought. “I’m sorry, Mrs…. Uhm, ma’am.” Shit. Frankie didn’t even know her name, less alone the name of her class. “I entered the wrong class and I realized too late and didn’t want to interrupt...” She started saying the monologue she had practiced, but then stopped herself. A sigh. “That’s- That’s not true. I’m, uhm, looking to enroll in this college, for a... teaching major...”

“Oh, Stars, please don’t ma’am me,” Morgan said wryly. “Professor Beck is good. And so is Professor Morgan. Or just Morgan. That is my name, after all.” She listened to the girl’s story, fighting back the urge to laugh as she outed herself at her own lie. There really was no shame and no harm in the story she’d lead with. And there was even less to be embarrassed about with the truth. “Hey,” she said, warmly as she could. She could force herself to be warm in spirit, in voice, even if she couldn’t be in her body, right? “Teachers--good teachers, are the badasses that spawn other badasses. Good teaching makes everything else in the world possible. Wanting to be one is the last thing you should be afraid to admit. Especially, you know, to a teacher.” Morgan shouldered her bag and gathered the homework papers from today’s session. “Let’s walk and talk, yeah? Maybe tell me your name, how far along you are in your application?”

A soft smile formed on Frankie’s face as the woman offered her name. “Professor Morgan.” She settled, nodding softly as she continued. Maybe there was nothing surrounding Morgan, but Frankie didn’t need to see the light blue flowing around her body to know that she was a good person willing to help. She wondered if bringing up the lack of aura was a good idea, but decided that she needed college answers before asking questions about the undead. “My name’s Frankie Calloway, I just moved to this town a little over a week ago. Uhm.” As they walked, she scrambled to grab her backpack that was hanging from her shoulder, taking from it a binder filled with papers. Searching through it, she took an essay and an application, showing it to her. “I originally was going to Pittsburgh, ‘cause I got a scholarship when I applied, but uh, I decided to come here instead.” As she let the other skim through them, she hugged the filled binder against her chest, biting her lips. “And I’m… very behind considering I haven’t started yet.”

Oh, she had a binder. This kid knew what was up. Started on some things, she at least had a paper form to work off of. But--not quite making the plunge yet. Morgan couldn’t help but be endeared by the drive and relate to her nerves. How often had she wanted to reach for something she desperately wanted and then forced herself to hold back over her stupid family curse? But what was Frankie’s reason? “It’s good to meet you, Frankie. I hope you’ll think about taking the class, in the fall if not over the summer.” She lead them out the building and onto the arts quad. The weather wasn’t exactly perfect, but there were still students milling in shorts and tanks, throwing frisbees, staring into their phones as if nothing ever had or would disrupt their peace again. “Can I ask--and you can say no--but, what happened with the change up? You seem to have a lot of spirit, you’re organized, you’ve got at least some of the basics, so I just wonder--and I only wonder because I may or may not have been there before--what’s been holding you back, Frankie?”

“I’ll definitely take your class, Professor. But I don’t, uhm, think I’ll make it this summer.” Frankie’s eyes looked around at the college life, and despite all the bright colors merging together in a sea of colors that threatened to make her go blind, she couldn’t help but smile once again, full of hope. It had been a dream of hers ever since sophomore year to go away to college with her girlfriend; and though the second half now seemed impossible, she could still try and make the first part come true. The questions made her shift uncomfortably, not quite prepared to answer them. It was easy to take the easy way off and say it was personal, but lying and keeping her mouth shut would be very un-Frankie of her. It took her several seconds for her to organize her thoughts before she continued. Both arms tightened around the binder and her body, and she looked down to the floor to ignore the auras as they got closer to the students hanging out. “I really thought I had... my whole life figured out back in Nashville. Like, I was graduating valedictorian, had the most amazing girlfriend in the world-- but then she was-- it was all gone. One second to another. And--” She bit her tongue to stop herself from spilling more information. “I don’t know. I guess I just needed a fresh start.”

Morgan watched Frankie closely. There was a lot more bubbling under her surface than she was letting on. It was almost funny--how could she be so surprised at seeing someone so lost and weighted down, holding onto so much hope. Hadn’t she been that way before she died? She’d had to set down her positivity torch now and then over the years, but never her hope. Even in her last human moments, looking into Deirdre’s eyes, she’d had the hope of one more breath, one more second looking at her, one more chance to make the words come. And then she’d died, and all that hope she’d clinged to seemed foolish and out of reach. She wondered how long Frankie would be able to hang onto hers, and whether it was better to warn her of how much strain there was to follow her or to let her do her best as she would, give her a reason to keep trying. It was disorienting, not to know for sure. Two months ago, she would have. “Come on, Frankie. Summer on campus isn’t complete without at least a run to the coffee shop. You should at least get a nice preview of the maybe-future.” She lead Frankie down one of the quiet side entrances and down the stairs to one of the student cafes. “It’s hard, when your life falls apart, and you lose everything you were leaning on. It takes a lot of strength, and a lot of hope to pick yourself up again after something like that. And it takes time, starting over. So maybe you’ll be here in the fall instead, or even the spring.” She guided them towards the line, shorter now than it was during normal school time. “How’s your fresh start been going for you anyway? You’re not at the traveler’s rest are you?”

Hope. It was definitely something Frankie seemed to be clutching onto lately. Even after almost a year had passed since her girlfriend had disappeared overnight, she never stopped believing that she was out there, somewhere, waiting for her. When she had moved to a tiny town a thousand miles away from home, she had hopes that things would be alright, and she ended up meeting a caring vampire that treated her like a daughter. And if she had been right about such a big things like that, how could she believe this time would be different? The teen followed the woman, silently listening to her as they made their way to the cafeteria, the arms around herself not loosening, and her sight still digging the floor beneath her feet. “I just... can’t sit idle and pretend everything is okay.” It felt weird opening up to a complete stranger, but it also felt good, in a way. If there was something like daddy issues but with mothers, then Frankie definitely had those, and every time an older woman showed the slightest compassion, it was like a faucet had been turned on. “I’ve always wanted to go to college and-- I know I can wait, I have all the time in the world and all that but-- I just need this one thing.” Frankie finally looked up, and the emotion on her face could only be described as tired. “Just one thing going for me, to remind myself that… I’m still me, you know? That despite everything that happened and is, uhm, happening, I’m still the same Frankie from seventh grade that wants to teach tiny humans what colors are.” A shaky breath made its way through her parted lips, and she looked at the menu, mostly to avert her sight since she already knew what she wanted. “It’s been alright, just a bit… bumpy I guess. I live with this guy who’s actually pretty nice.”

It hurt to hear words Morgan had clung to for so much of her sad mortal life coming out of this girl, practically a kid still. I need this, I just want this one thing, I don’t want much, I just need to make this one thing work and then it’ll be okay. “Hey,” she said, bending down and around to catch a better glimpse of Frankie’s face. “I do know, actually. A lot. I know how hard it is, and how tired you must be.” There was a sadness of understanding behind her warm expression and soft voice. The world was so cruel to children--had it always been this way? Was there any explanation good enough to explain why Frankie had to carry what she did? Morgan at least had her reason, even a partial one, and it didn’t feel worth shit. “You are still you, Frankie. There’s no disaster or suffering that can take that away unless you really let it. You’re still here. That’s not an easy thing to hold onto, but you are. And,” her smile turned kind and knowing, opening the door to let the details Frankie’s past stay untouched if she preferred to. “It sounds like you’re navigating town alright. So, know what you want?”

Frankie’s eyes began to sting, and she had to bite her tongue to push down the urge to just start wailing in front of the professor. It was in that moment that she decided she would do whatever it took to take her class “You’re right, professor.” Not having her grandmother and mother with her also took a toll. From one day to another she had been named captain of a ship sailing through the angry ocean, and there was no one to guide her. But Morgan was right - she had to hold on tight to the rudder and continue navigating. Eyes finally locked on the woman’s, a weak smile forming on her face, followed by the tiniest nod. The fact that there wasn’t aura around her only made her easier to approach, easier to feel comfortable around her. Graham’s words about not all vampires being nice ringed in her head, but so far every single undead she had met had been nothing but nice to her. “I guess it’s hard to… not lose perspective. I know I’m still me, but… I don’t always feel that way.” Especially when there were werewolves and vampires and who knew what else slowly taking over her life. “Vanilla latte.” Frankie scrambled to take her wallet. “Please let me pay for you. It’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“Okay, enough ‘professor’ talk,” Morgan said. “Morgan is good, at least for outside of class. And I know that feeling too. When you’re in the sad pit, it’s hard to see anything straight, even yourself. But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. You always have to try, Frankie. And as far as I know, you’ve got a whole lot of life ahead of you and a whole mess of good things to reach for.” She held the girl’s gaze a moment, smiling with all the warmth and bravery she had within her. She felt a bitter pull to straighten herself up, to be as good and as strong as people seemed to think she was. She grasped for whatever piece of that she really had. She didn’t want Frankie to know how she still found herself struck paralysed and numb by the nothing-feeling of the sun on her skin, even with Felix’s magic pills. Or how bitterly and pointlessly her mortal life had ended. That it hadn’t mattered what hope she placed into the universe or how many times she had pulled herself up. She wanted to signal some kind of validation for her hope. She seemed like a good kid, and maybe it was selfish, but Morgan wanted to believe that some girl would have it fairer, better. She reached out and squeezed Frankie’s shoulder, lightly in a way she had now practiced often. The student in front of them stepped aside to the pickup counter and Morgan gave the vanilla latte order.

“Anything else?” The cashier asked.

“Nope!” Morgan said, swiping her card. “Sorry,” she said, smirking at Frankie. “I hope you don’t mind the trick, but I can’t have anything here anyways. And you don’t seem the type to take a little gift easy.”

It felt nice having a grown up reassuring that, at least in theory, things would be okay. The cold hand on her shoulder only confirmed what she had already known: Morgan was definitely not human and almost definitely a vampire, but then again, they had just walked in broad daylight like nothing, so could there be different types of them? She lost herself in that thought for a moment, not realizing what Morgan had done until it was too late. Frankie just stared at the woman fool her, dumbfoundedly pointing at the cashier with one finger before turning it to the professor. And she just stared for a couple seconds until it clicked, before erupting in laughter, covering his mouth with the hand holding the wallet, tears quickly forming on the corner of her eyes as she continued laughing. It was such a small thing, and there was no way in heaven Morgan knew what she had just done, but her grandma used to do the same little trick on her when they were young and she tried to use her allowance money to buy both of them an ice cream. Without meaning to, Morgan had made her feel more Frankie than she had since she had arrived in town. “Thank you.” She just said as the laughter died in chipper resignation but determined to pay her back in the future, and then wiped the corner of her eyes before shoving all her stuff back in her backpack. If she was thanking her for the memories or for the coffee, even Frankie wasn’t sure. Perhaps both. “I’ll let it go if you tell me more about your class.” Coffee in hand, the teen motioned to an empty table, a smile on her face, before she started bombing her with questions.

#wickedswriting #ecologies of rebuilding your life #wr frankie #wr chatzy #wr frankie chatzy #wr

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

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Chapter 9 of my Carry On Big Bang fic is posted! Chapter title from the Social Distortion song Story of My Life. Read it at AO3.

Chapter Nine: Story of My Life

Baz

The letter, when it arrives, looks out of place among the scatter of bills, circulars and junk mail that usually fills Simon and Bunce’s mail bin.

This particular day had started just like any of the other languid, comfortable ones before it had. Waking up to Simon in my arms, indulging in some early morning distractions, sitting together for our morning tea in the sunny kitchen.

It’s blessedly domestic and I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with myself when Bunce returns.

I’d raced home after meeting with my advisor. I suppose it’s odd that I refer to Simon’s flat as home, when I’ve got my own place. Well, not actually my own flat. Although with as much as Fiona travels I may as well be living alone.

But her place doesn’t feel like home. Even after all this time.

Simon’s does. It’s got all the essentials that make it that way—the scent of food cooking, the lumpy sofa, piles of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom, the medicinal scent of Simon’s soap.

And Simon himself. All the details that take me back to Watford and that simultaneously reinforce where we are now.

Fiona’s place just holds the persistent odor of nicotine, greasy kebabs and Earl Grey.

I’m humming as I take the stairs up to Simon’s and my choice of song makes me realize I have truly become a cliché.

I don’t care. Fuck clichés. There was a time when the only cliché I thought I’d manage was becoming a dead vampire.

Humming Robert Smith’s lyrics on a Friday afternoon seems a far better outcome.

I burst into Simon’s flat and find him on the sofa. That’s not particularly unusual for this time of day but his expression is. I’ve not seen an approximation of his thousand-yard stare for months and it unnerves me.

“Hello, love.” I drop my bag and sink down on the sofa next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. I find his hand and feel his fingers grip mine as I lean into him.

I know better than to push when Simon’s like this. I just hold his hand while my eyes dart around at the flat; looking at him, at the untidy stack of books nearby, the pile of mail on the table.

And that’s when I see it. The thick, cream-colored envelope with precise lettering on the front, addressed to Simon.

With a return address in Wales.

I only know one person from Wales. And that person is dead.

I squeeze Simon’s fingers and then slip my hand out of his to wrap it around him and pull him closer. He leans into me, head dropping to rest on my shoulder.

“You’ve not opened it, then?” My voice is low.

He shakes his head. “Didn’t want to do it alone. Dunno who it’s from or what it’s about.” He swallows and turns his face into my neck. “I don’t know anyone from Wales except . . .” He trails off.

“You don’t have to open it right now.” I’m dreadfully curious about the contents but it also makes me uneasy.

The fact that the return address is for a solicitor’s office does nothing to dampen my concern.

The past few months have been so much better. Uni’s taken Simon’s mind off all the misery and he found a focus in his coursework this past term that he never had at Watford. It’s been good. The Mage’s death and the whole bloody aftermath of that blasted inquiry devastated him. It just kept reopening the wounds of his loss. We’d finally moved past all that.

And now this.

Right.

He doesn’t have to open it now but I know Simon. He’ll brood on it if he doesn’t. The unknown is worse than whatever that letter holds.

“Do you want me to open it, love?”

Simon goes rigid for a moment but then he sits up, jaw jutted out and eyebrows lowered. I know that look. My heart squeezes because I know him. He’s never one to back down on anything. “No. I should do it.” He leans forward and picks up the letter, holding it gingerly in front of him. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

He flips it over and rips the back open, sliding a sheaf of papers out. I lean over to skim the cover letter as he reads it. His hand is shaking.

“ ‘Sole beneficiary?’ What the bloody hell does that mean?” he mutters. “ ‘The bequest includes all tangible personal property, real estate and such items maintained on aforementioned property, as well as all personal effects including items until recently held at the Watford School and that were acquired by the decedent during his tenure as Headmaster at that facility.’ Baz, what the fuck does this all mean?” He thrusts the letter at me.

I take the cover letter and scan it quickly, riffling through the document that accompanies it.

Fuck. It’s the Mage’s will.

Fuck.

I read over the letter one more time. “He might not have gone through the paperwork to officially adopt you, Simon, but it seems the Mage made you his legal heir.” I skim the pages again. “This is a copy of the will. He’s left his entire estate to you.”

There is silence for a moment and then Simon’s head drops into his hands. “I don’t want it.”

It’s too much, too sudden, too overwhelming. It doesn’t surprise me that this is his first reaction.

I put my arms around him and his head drops onto my shoulder once more, his face buried in my neck, his words just a whisper. “I don’t want it, Baz. I don’t want anything to do with him. Not anymore.” His tail wraps around my leg and his wings tremble against my hands.

I run my hands gently up and down his back. “I’ve got you, love. We’ll sort this, never you mind. We’ll sort it.”

I order dinner. I pay the delivery man. I set out the meal, watch Simon pick at the chicken tikka on his plate, do the washing up. I choose a film to watch, endure the silence emanating from him. I know this routine. It’s like all those weekends at Bunce’s in those first months. It chills me to see how easily Simon has slipped back into that state.

It’s later, when we’re in his bedroom, that he comes alive again. Simon’s hands roam over my body, his kisses fast and firm and desperate.

“We don’t have to tonight, Simon.” I whisper it into his hair, as he reaches down to trail his lips along my neck. “It’s alright, love.”

“I want to.” His breath ghosts over my skin, his mouth sliding along my collarbone. “I want this, Baz. I don’t want to think about anything but you.” He tilts his head up to meet my eyes. “And I don’t want you thinking about it either. Not here. Not now.” His jaw clenches. “This is mine. Ours. And it’s bloody well going to stay that way.”

Simon holds himself up above me, makes me reach for his lips. I slip my fingers into his bronze curls as his wings unfurl above us. It’s warm and safe in Simon’s arms, a haven from the outside world.

“I don’t want to think, Baz.” His words hang between us. “Make me stop thinking.”

So, I do.

Simon

Morning comes and for a minute, when I first wake up, it’s like it always is. Me, on Baz’s chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, my legs tangled up with his, the cool stretch of his body against mine.

Then I remember.

And I get angry. It thrums through me, my pulse quickening, a wave of heat washing over me. I’d be seeing everything edged in red and wavering, if I still had my magic.

But I don’t have it anymore.

Fuck him. Fuck the Mage. Fuck his lies and his prophecies and his bloody Chosen One bullshit. I close my eyes and take a deep breath but I can’t find that place, that internal calmness that’s been so much easier to channel these last few months.

I just feel the rage.

I thought it was over. The whole fucking nightmare of the inquiry, the Coven meetings, the jumble of emotions in the aftermath of it all. I thought I could put it behind me and be done. Move on with my life.

Be Simon Snow. Not the Chosen One. Not a mage. Not anyone’s fucking hero. Just me. The Simon who lives with his best friend and goes to uni and is blissfully in love with a complicated, unfairly attractive man who happens to be the gentlest, least bloodthirsty and most posh fucking vampire in existence.

That Simon. That’s the Simon I want to be.

I don’t want to be the fucking Mage’s Heir again.I know it’s not the same, it doesn’t have the far-reaching ramifications and portents and utter shite it did before but Merlin, I am so fucking sick of those words in relation to me.

In any bloody form.

I had a bad feeling when I saw the envelope. Nothing to do with magic or foresight or any of that rot. Just unnerving. A tingling in my fingers as I picked the letter up, a chill down my spine when I saw that it posted from Wales, the wave of unease at the solicitor’s return address.

Nothing good could be coming out of Wales. Not for me.

I only knew one person from there. And it’s the person I would most like to forget.

I’m still trying to keep my breaths steady but the fury coursing through me is relentless.

He fucked with my life while he was alive. Can he not leave me in fucking peace now that he’s dead? Is that really too much to ask?

I can feel Baz’s breathing pattern shift and then cool fingers run through my hair. Bloody hell. I must have woken him up.

I tilt my head up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His fingers keep carding through my hair, rasping against my scalp. It’s far more calming than any of the breathing exercises I was half-heartedly attempting moments ago.

Baz is like that. Nothing calms me the way he does. His touch, his voice, that infuriating sardonic tone he has that makes me laugh.

It didn’t always do that. He used to just infuriate me, the jammy bastard.

Not anymore. He’s a cool breeze that soothes my soul now. Not that I tell him that, mind you.

Well, I don’t tell him often. He’d be insufferable if I did, the tit.

“You’re a mouth-breather, Simon. It’s virtually impossible to remain asleep when you are huffing and puffing like that.” His voice is gentle, even if his words aren’t. A finger traces along my jaw. “Are you alright, love?”

I drop my head to rest on Baz’s chest again, letting my breaths slow to match his. “I’m just angry. I thought we were done with all his shite.” I fist the sheet in my hand. “I wanted to be done with him.”

His fingers keep combing through my curls. “I thought so too. But we’ll sort this. I told you.”

“Sorting it means dealing with it, Baz. I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Baz sighs and shifts a bit. “It seems fairly clear-cut from the letter. Property, personal effects, any and all belongings. What you choose to do with that is up to you, Simon.”

“I don’t want to choose anything. Can’t I just throw the letter away and pretend I never got it?”

He laughs then, a rumble I can feel reverberating through his chest. “You know they’ll keep sending letters, right? You’re the only heir. They made that very clear. ‘Sole beneficiary.’ Trust me, love, they want this sorted as much as you do. Unfinished business on the books is no good for them. They’ll track you down, no matter what, so we may as well deal with it head-on.”

It makes me want to tear my hair out. “I don’t want to deal with it, I told you.”

Baz tugs on my hair to make me look up at him again. “I know you don’t but someone needs to. If for no other reason than to get things in order and let you move on.” His expression is grave as he continues, although his tone is almost tentative. “Do you want me to deal with it, Simon? I can speak to Father, get his input, see what I can manage without you getting dragged down by it all?”

I collapse on his chest. “Yes. Yes. I would be eternally grateful if you just took over the whole sodding thing and left me out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you utter pillock. It’s your inheritance, not mine. You’ll still have to make some decisions, sign papers, likely speak to the solicitors. But I will do whatever I can to minimize your involvement, if that’s truly what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Fine. I’ll call Father today, if that’s alright with you.” Baz frowns down at me. “I can talk to him about this, yes? Let him see the documents?”

“Merlin above, Baz, you can give him the bloody documents, for all I care. I trust you and I trust your father.”

He raises one eyebrow and quirks his mouth up. “It still absolutely bloody wrecks me to hear you say things like that, Simon.”

“Well, it’s true, you wanker. I trust you and Penny more than I trust anyone in this world. Your father’s one of the smartest people I know, present company excluded, and he’s far more sensible than you. I’d gladly take his advice on all this legal twaddle.”

That just makes Baz roll his eyes. “It’s not twaddle, you philistine, it’s inheritance law.”

“Call it what you like. But can we be done talking about it? At least until after you call Malcolm?”

The grin that appears on his face is wicked. “I’m going to tell him you finally called him Malcolm. He’ll be absolutely chuffed to hear it.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I did. It feels so awkward calling him that.”

I feel the press of Baz’s lips on my forehead. “You can’t keep calling him Mr. Grimm forever, love.”

I can. I absolutely can keep calling him that.

Although I must say the thought of anyone describing Malcolm Grimm as chuffed is even more awkward than me calling him by his first name.

Then I’m laughing at that thought and Baz gives that fond smile of his that makes my heart beat faster and even though this fucking Mage business and inheritance shite is throwing me off kilter, I’ve got him and he can make anything better, just by being here with me.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #carry on big bang #next chapter #things are getting interesting

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saeneras · 5 years

Text

Marionette (Nicolae Bartholy) Chapter 2

Synopsis: Loss tugs him one way. Grief tugs her the other way. Just mere empty shells of former humans attached to strings mercilessly controlled by the past. It's the same darkness that forces them into each other's arms but can he resist her forever? And can she find what was lost? Will they love each other enough to cut their strings?

Nicolae focused on reading his newspaper, for once his father wasn't up to something, meddling in the city's affairs. "Like humans meddling..." he slammed the paper on the table, holding his head in his hands, frightened doe eyes haunting him.

"She wasn't meddling." loathing himself for what he did. "I need to apologize to her." he sighed but how? That white chemise accented her dark skin perfectly. It fit her snugly and through the cloth two dark brown points caught his eyes. Men of today loved a scantily clad woman but Nicolae loved them clothed. His imagination could run wild, thinking of what was waiting for him. Nicolae could undress her body. He couldn't undress her mind. Instantly his wandering thoughts stopped.

"Why this? Why now?" a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Picking back up the newspaper he read the uninteresting celebrity gossip section. Anything to resist Selene, anything to forget his impending apology to her, anything to forget how much of an exotic treasure, waiting for him to come explore, she was.

The paper slammed again.

"I'm going crazy. That's it I'm mad."

"Is there a bug on the table?" shocked green eyes looked at him from across the table. Nicolae frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see you declare war against the table." Peter sat down, Bel Ami in hand.

"She's trying to brave this harsh world almost like a tiny mouse in a winter storm but the ice gets the better of her." Nicolae assumed it was from his book. "She's melancholia at it's finest Nicolae." Peter uttered quietly. "Lonely, sad, searching for something that won't be found. Be gentle with her Nicolae. Selene isn't a threat."

"Be gentle Nicolae." his consciousness warned. Nicolae easily saw himself wrapping her in blankets, holding her hand, giving her what she yearned for. He loved catering to the women in his life, his beloved mother, his dearly departed wife if he'd been blessed with a daughter he'd shower the little girl in love.

"How do you know this?" Nicolae glared at him but Peter remained unfazed. "I felt it." Envy bubbled within the older vampire soon it brewed into jealousy. "Jealousy is a mix of fear and anger." Nicolae thought. "Why do I fear this? Why anger?" Here Peter was reading the little beauty whereas Nicolae couldn't get anything out of her. His brother was the most sensitive of the three. "I'm afraid Peter and her will fall in love because he can read and connect with her on levels I cannot. If that happens I'll have to conceal my feelings and pretend I am happy for them when it's the furthest thing. I'm angry cause I will never have the chance because we are of different species and I ruined my chances if there ever was one."

He cleared his throat. "But I love my brother. If I need to force a smile for his sake, I will."

"That's impossible." he denied. "She's unreadable. When I try to glimpse into her mind there's nothing.

"She's like me." Peter simply replied.

"Someone cheated on her?" Nicolae's hands froze, clenching into fists. "That's ridiculous! She's...."

"Stunning?" Peter offered "Soft hearted?"

"She told you this?!"

"Nicolae. You're going too fast nor are you listening to yourself here. No one cheated on her as far as I know and I haven't met her but she stands in a pit, a dark one, she pays no attention to the light above her head because she can't see it. A large part of her is missing and those missing pieces are why there's no happy end in her story. If I could sense her better, I'd say she's a vampire as well."

"She's human, Peter. Humans have dark days too." Nicolae rubbed his temples, confused by everything his brother had just told him.

"You really weren't lying when you said you couldn't read her huh?"

xXx

SELENE POV

"Something else controlled me when I answered Nicolae. I was so scared he'd throw me out and I wouldn't have my second chance." fingers curled around the flaked edges of the book."I had to do it. Was it for Lorie or because I..I want to stay with her brother?"

Eyes closed, Selene transported herself to another world out in the hallway. She wasn't among the golden lamps and papered walls of the Bartholy manor but a grander home somewhere in London. Cinnamon pastries from downstairs smelt so good Selene could taste the sugar, somewhere Genevra slammed her windows and behind this door Phoebe would have been giggling playing with her dolls or whatever toys she wanted to play with it didn't matter.

"I just wanted you to stay alive." she whispered touching the door thinking about how much it weighed, wondering if an urn containing the ashes of her baby would weigh less or more. "Not the time Selene."

She practiced her smile, faking a closed one then a grin but in the end her face fell to the floor. "This isn't who I am." she smiled again but melancholic. "This isn't me."

Instead of the blue and purples she dreamt of for a little girl, her eyes were assaulted with pink. The lavish room set with princess like canopy bed, white furniture and cotton candy walls dotted with old pictures, sat a little girl. Round citrine orbs set in a round face complete with a cute button nose concentrated on her toy bunny. The bunny looked zombified, empty eye sockets, fur ripped out, the child lay it out flat on her barbie pink bed, rubbing her finger in between it's stubby legs, before adding two.

Smiling, butterflies filled her body with warmth. In front of this child Selene knew no fear, sadness or doubt, only adoration. Clutching the book. "I didn't give you life little one but here, you gave me back mine." vowing she'd protect and crush anyone or anything that hurt this girl, like any mother would do. For this angelic child, she'd easily make the choice to put her happiness over everything else. The scar on her tummy warmed up when she set those pretty eyes on Selene and held out a doll.

"Hello! My name is....."

"Can you sew and extension on my bunny rabbit?" the girl pouted not even bothering to introduce herself. "It needs to be longer right about here!" she declared touching where her fingers were just touching.

"Sur...." she then noticed where exactly she wanted the "third arm" right between's it's legs. Aghast Selene's throat produced no sound. "Is this just some child's innocent request? She couldn't...it can't be! She can't be asking for..for that? She's just a child." On her canopy bed Selene noticed a pile of grotesque stuffed toys all no better than her rabbit. They all looked demonic and tormented, missing parts, missing eyes except for one doll will long brown hair, balloon sleeves and a black vest.

"Oi! Stupid!" the child snorted, taking glee in herself as if she took great pride in her words. "My doll?"

Forcing herself to be cheery, her fake smile couldn't force itself. "Dear, your doll is fine! Why make your dolly even worse."

Lorie's face clouded over, the anger blazing behind her eyes. "MY DOLL NEEDS THIS! YOU ARE MY MAID YOU DO AS I SAY!" she screamed throwing her hands in the air.

"I won't give your doll a third arm" Selene placed her hands on her hips.

Lorie smirked. "A third arm? You're not even experienced." she taunted looking pleased with herself to have made the maid look like an idiot. "My brothers were right. Especially Nicolae when he said you were foolish."

"He said that?" masking her uneasiness and the dangerous song her blood began to sing.

"Of course." she grinned. "He thinks you're nosy, annoying and my big brother could eat you in one sitting but you'd taste awful. My taste is more sophisticated." she wrinkled her nose. "You're smelly and disgusting. No competition to me."

Laying back on her bed, she relaxed for a bit before acknowledging a dumbfounded Selene. "Ok dummy, read something to me." Selene held out the book with the story of the mother and baby mice. Lorie skimmed through the book wrinkling her nose before tossing it aside.

It pained Selene to see something precious given to her by Nicolae be tossed aside like trash. Made to be forgotten. She'd never forget...the story..her daughter.

"Lorie don't. That book belongs to Nicolae." she spoke timidly.

"Your hands touched it so it's trash now." the girl hopped off her bed reaching under it.

"Read this to me and explain it!" Lorie demanded sitting daintily on her bed once more. "A journal?" she thought. The pink leather and gold tipped pages looked elegant but when she flipped open the book, elegance was the furthest thing stuck on it.

A woman's back curved her bare breasts squeezed and fondled by a man tucked between her mouth as another man pummeled her from behind.

Another woman spread herself open, her rosy"lips" stretched apart by some kind of metal clamp as a burly man looked on.

A third woman's legs bent over head like a doll on the bed while two masked men took her.

Her fingers shook, the book fell from her hands hitting the floor. Lorie screaming how useless and dumb she was faded to the background in her shock.

"She's six! She's six!" her mind screamed "She shouldn't be reading or know about these things!"

"Lorie!" she scolded the child, suppressing the urge to frown and look upset. "You're not supposed to read these things! I am going to tell your brother!" she threatened.

"Tell me what?" a casual, uninterested voice asked from the doorway. A tall, pale blonde with predatory, amber eyes bored intensely into hers. Selene stepped back, intimidated. The fiery gaze latched on to her body like a insect in a spider's web, she struggled to tear away but he wouldn't let her. White long sleeves crossed in front of his well built physique, he darted his eyes away from her gaping mouth and wide eyes to look at the pornographic book on the floor.

Smirking, those frightening eyes landed back on her and a terrifying chill froze over her body.

"Is this what you are showing my sister?" he asked with a smirk, his voice deep and casual but the dark and dangerous almost accusing undertones were present.

Turning to Lorie, the girl had a gleeful smile, feigning innocence towards the blond male. "You got caught." her expression said.

"Wait till Nicolae sees what you're showing her." the male grinned then burst out laughing.

"I didn't show her anything!"

"So where did a six year old get such pictures little one?" he took a step forward, she took one back.

Lorie giggled "Nicolae will kill her! Won't he Drogo?"

Drogo didn't reply, his grin got wider and wider. She swore his canines' looked longer than usual. Was it her imagination?

Whatever it was, Selene's nightmare had only just begun.

xXx

Later...

She needed air. Clean inhalations of oxygen and green foliage and the light through the trees whispering her name. "Come to us." they said She wanted to join them and feel the grass tickling her feet. Anything to get rid of the sickly pink burned into her sight, the equally disgusting scent of plumerias from her hair and Lorie's shrill screams from curling in her ears. A nightmare wrapped in bubblegum pink and frills. Bending over the rails she swallowed as much air as she could. "It's a thankless job." What were those men telling her? "Thankless?" her nature asked.

"She boasts about her brother's eating you when you can very well drain her dry and harvest what's left of her youth. The next time kill her...make her brother watch."

Drogo sat down, his gaze setting her on fire with every flicker as if he were a boss who'd take great delight in torturing his workers. He insisted she was the one who showed the lewd pictures to his sisters. "I'll tell Nicolae." he threatened "What shall my dear older brother think of you? He's not the kind to like loose women especially women with pedophile tendencies." he chuckled.

"What would Nicolae think." was enough to make her obedient. Both of them ordered her around, dropped things on the floor on purpose, the youngest brother hit his sister's table in unbridled joy as Lorie tried to smack her with a brush.

"Attack her. Attack them. Make him suffer." her nature offered a humiliated Selene. Like a row of thorns covering wildflowers, that soon died but their withered heads flourished in her bleakness, her darkness bloomed, prickling at her dead heart. Harming Lorie enticed her, marching up to the child and draining her life from her. Watching her smirking little eyes roll back and her lips fall into a loose flesh. Oh the delight she'd feel when that already pale skin turn into a pretty grey or green colour.

"What would Nicolae think?"

The thorns released their hold and the flowers bloomed again, this time in colour. Precious Nicolae with his gentle deep voice chased away the ominous being gripping her nature.

It saved her from becoming a murderer. She'd already been scolded for the morning for something minor, he'd never forgive her. Lorie was her second chance at motherhood. If Phoebe were a little brat like Lorie....would Selene kill her like her supernatural nature wanted?

"I wouldn't...I can't."

And with that she weathered the storm but even after the annoying blond left, Lorie was still a handful.

Selene had yanked Lorie's hand away from her undergarments and the little girl threw a tantrum. She'd thrown her toys at her, everyone of them horribly crafted, their genital areas were ripped out. Only a plush of Nicolae remained immaculate.

Selene tried to ask her if her brothers were doing or telling her things but Lorie's face swelt like an angry beast.

"DROGO SAID YOU SHOWED ME THAT BOOK SO YOU SHOWED IT TO ME! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE MY BROTHERS OF BASELESS LIES? DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM? HOW TRAPPED I AM?" she screamed ripping off her bed sheets.

Rubbing her arms she walked past the mini mazes and statues dotting the manor's backyard towards the trees towering over, leading to the land of the unknown. "She's six. They have tantrums. It's not her fault." that familiar motherly warmth found her again. "I will try harder tomorrow. Maybe I'll ask her what she likes to eat. We'll work something out.I couldn't even read her the book."

Something beige caught her eye, looking oddly out of place in the spring blossoms of the Bartholy garden. Squinting she swore those were tiny claws, brushing the ferns aside, the soft dirt there was the final resting place of a cream coloured mouse, two bite holes dotted it's body no doubt from some wild animal.

Instinctively she looked around for said wild animal but only the trickling of water fountains and it's stone women greeted her. "I can be in danger if the animal comes back unless it's with child." Searching for the animal again to no avail, her attention focused on the deceased animal. The more she looked at the dead creature, the more the words died in her throat. Touching it's soft fur, Selene knew the poor little thing took its last breath on that very day.

#drogo bartholy #1492 studio #is it love drogo vampire #otome #otome fanfic

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bangchanshehe · 6 years

Text

Andromeda pt. 2(M)

Summary: You were no one, a goody-two-shoes who always played by the rules. When you decided to change yourself and live a little more dangerously you got caught up in Taemin’s trap. He had no use for you and no desire to have you. You were a toy and a time killer. But, he just so happened to have a lot of time and you happened to be his new favorite play thing.

Genre: Vampire!au / Smut / Angst /Violence

***please do not read if you are underage***

word count: 5k

You stood out in the small pathway and sipped on your drink as you admired the magical fog that hovered over the dancing bodies below you. You listened to the pounding music that you could feel through every muscle in your body. You vibrated from the heavy bass, the alcohol running through your system and the electric feeling of being surrounded by such beautiful men. You had no idea how you withheld yourself from going out all of these years. But, after tonight you wanted to go out and do more, and experience things that you had never done. You closed your eyes and smiled drunkenly at the smell of smoke and liquor and allowed for the moment of happiness to swallow you. You took one last sip of your drink- appreciating the slight sting that it put in the back of your throat before deciding to go back to the lounge. Your hand held on to the railing of the concrete barrier to help guide yourself down the dark walkway. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. You had to concentrate on your walking to ensure that you wouldn’t you wouldn’t trip in your high heels. You smiled at yourself, amused that you were this drunk already.

Taemin quickly threw on his coat and walked through the cramped walkway making his way straight to the exit. There was no way that he was going to hang around here with you and the rest of his brothers pawning over you like you were something special. All that you were was a distraction, a mere mirage of what love is supposed to be. It was all fake and he would be damned if he was going to surrender himself to you just like that, as if he were so love sick fucking idiot.

He continued to walk down the path and shoulder checked you as he walked, throwing you off of balance and forcing you to fall into the wall painfully. You groaned at the hard contact with the wall and turned around to mentally curse whoever was just so rude to ignore other people in the way. You rubbed your side and continued to walk forward and make your way back to the lounge. You walked inside to see the four other men deep in a conversation and the girls who were around were nowhere to be seen. Minho and Onew smiled widely at you as you walked inside and took your seat in-between them once more.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow y/n?” Minho stated, reminding you of your impending 6:30 alarm.

“Yes, truthfully I should probably be going home soon since it’s already close to 1.” You started, feeling yourself sober up some after the reality check. “But I don’t want to go home yet.” You said softly to yourself.

All of the men around you chuckled, clearly hearing your pouty statement and you blushed in embarrassment. It wasn’t something that was intended for them to hear, but clearly they heard every word.

“We don’t want you to go either, but we wouldn’t want you to be miserable tomorrow.” Onew spoke up

“How far do you live from here?” Minho asked

You thought about it for a moment, unsure of how far away you were from home.

“Maybe 20 minutes south from here?” you said questionably

The men all nodded their heads and held a blank look on their face as if they were trying to picture where exactly you lived. Minho stood up and held his hand out to you- and you looked up at him curious.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” He offered. You were about to protest but he quickly held up his hand “Don’t say no! It’s going to be difficult getting a taxi here and it’ll be expensive to pay for a taxi.” He added

You thought about it for a moment and considered just flat out rejecting his offer. But, he was right! The cab fare just to get here was about $30, and the entry fee to get into the club was $50. You had money prepared for you to be able to enjoy the night stress-free, but you couldn’t help but think of what you could do with the extra money from not buying drinks and one less cab ride. You sighed and placed your straw in your mouth and quickly drank what was left of your drink. You sat the glass down and gently placed your hand in Minho’s. He immediately held on to your hand tightly and pulled you forward trying to help you out of the seat.

Once you were out of your seat you quickly turned to the men still sitting and bowed to them.

“Thank you so much for sharing your night with me!”

“It’s no problem! Come back and see us whenever you want, okay?” Onew offered and you grinned and nodded.

You waved to them before turning on your heels and allowing Minho to escort you out of the dark walk way once more. When the two of you reached the bar Minho stopped to wave goodbye to Sehun, who was still at the bar working diligently. He immediately looked up to Minho as if they were telekinetic and waved back, not forgetting to also giving you a sly wink. You giggled at the cute boy’s playfulness which Minho didn’t fail to recognize.

“What?” he asked you with a smile

“Nothing, the bartenders just cute is all” you said and Minho pretended to be shocked.

“You mean to tell me that you find my staff cute and not me?” he gasped and you laughed even harder

“You know well just how good looking you are!” you stated and Minho just nodded before giving you a sideways grin

He wrapped your arm around his as he made his way down the stairs. He allowed for you to hang onto him tightly as you tried to see through the fog and darkness down the path. You smiled when you reach the solid ground after the last step, thankful that you didn’t bust your ass. You were ready to walk around the crowd much like how you entered, but Minho dragged you through the middle of all of the bodies. He suddenly stopped in front of you and turned to face you. You allowed your hand to relax and falter away from his, unaware of why he stopped. He used his free hands to his advantage and pulled you impossibly close to him by your waist. You gasped as your bodies collided and Minho’s hands wrapped around you holding you firmly in place. He leaned into you to whisper in your ear and you froze at how close he was to you.

“Before I take you home will you dance with me?” he asked seductively.

You pulled your head back to admire his face now that he was so close to you. You felt absolutely drawn to him as if his voice had captured all of your attention and desire and focused them both solely on himself. You nodded your head and stared into his eyes and then allowed for them to fall down to the perfect plump lips that were smiling at you.

Quickly he spun you around and pulled you back into his chest. His hands were firmly placed on your hips and skimmed across your waist and fell back down to their place once more. His feather like touch aroused you and you feel yourself becoming wet by his simple touches. You swayed your hips and pressed yourself farther back into his slow grinding movements. At your movements he fell forward and rested his head in the crook of your neck. He freed a hand and moved your hair away from your neck. He placed small yet firm kisses on the inside of your neck from your clavicles up to your jaw. You mewled at the attention and affection that he was giving you and rested your head back against his broad shoulder that was just behind you.

If you had told yourself earlier that you would be grinding with a drop dead gorgeous stranger and allowing him to kiss you, you would scoff. But now that you were in the heat of the moment you didn’t think about anything other than how amazing it felt to be pressed up against another person and feel such mutual desire. You allowed for him to continue to kiss you on your neck and you placed one of your hands on the back of his head and ran your fingers through his gorgeous locks.

You two remained anonymous in the crowd amongst the other sweaty horny people mindlessly getting their pleasure out of each other to the beat of the music. You had no idea if you would ever see any of these men again after tonight so you decided to enjoy whatever happened tonight, even if you were going to end up miserable tomorrow. The song slowly faded into another and the crowd cheered at the song change. Minho grabbed you by the hand and pulled you away from the rest of the people. You nearly tripped over your own feet when Minho pulled you out of your lustful mindset. He pulled you out of the bar and way from the bouncers towards a parking garage across the street. You panted and shivered as the cold air outside caressed your bare skin and you tried your best to continue to follow Minho’s fast pace. He crossed the road and pushed a button, commanding for the elevator to open. You held your arms across each other and rubbed as much warmth as you could into them. Minho noticed your discomfort and pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around your shoulder.

“I don’t have a jacket to lend you, but I do have some body heat” he said lowly

You were about to speak up when the elevator doors opened and Minho guided you inside. You separated from one another once you were in the warmer closed of space and it was beginning to feel awkward. It was beginning to feel weird when he wasn’t touching you in one way or another. When you two separated it was like you were still being drawn to him and you did your best not to cling to his side. You peered up at Minho’s face, seeing him for the first time in clear lighting and you were star struck by how handsome he was. His chiseled jaw line, his cheek bones, his strong eyebrows, and sharp eyes were all things that looked so fitting and masculine on him. He looked handsome in the dim lighting in the club, but in regular lighting he was stunning.

Minho could feel your gaze and smiled to himself. The elevator door opened and once again he took your hand and led you towards his car. You smiled down at the contact and admired how his large hand held onto your much smaller hand tightly as he escorted you across the lot. Minho spotted the familiar black paint of his Audi and guided you over. You raised your eyebrows as you walked towards a car that you only ever dreamed about sitting inside and smiled at your chance to finally do so. Minho pulled on your shoulder making you turn to face him and placed both of his hands firmly against your face. He allowed his body to lean into yours and rest firmly against the side of his car, before passionately sealing his lips over yours. You immediately held onto his back and leaned into his kiss allowing for it to deepen. His mouth was hot and hard over yours as he fought you for dominance through the kiss and you gladly surrendered to him. Like high school kids the two of you stood there and kissed each other passionately until you became dizzy. You pulled away from him gasping for air and weak in the knees. You continued to touch him and feel him as you panted. Your fingers ran across his stomach and you gasped feeling not two not four but six perfectly sculpted abs, hiding underneath his clothes. Minho chuckled at your wandering hands and pulled one towards his face. He kissed your wrist and hand and left paths anywhere where there was exposed flesh, making eye contact with you the entire time.

You rubbed your legs together as you watched him press his cool lips to your skin. You were becoming needier and needier and wetter and wetter. You ached to be touched and worshiped in the places where you needed it the most. Minho watched as you tried to nonchalantly get yourself off in front of him and he pulled away from you. He braced his hand on the small of your back and pulled you to him once more and gave you one last passionate kiss before he asked you

“Where do you live?”

“Next to the traditional theatre in Samcheong-dong” you answered almost immediately.

Minho smiled and opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to take a seat inside. You shivered in anticipation as you watched him walk around the car and slide into the driver’s seat. The started the engine and you let out a muffled moan as the engine vibrated the car in all the right ways. You were so sensitive and needy at this point that you could almost get off at just the vibration of the seat underneath you. Minho placed a hand on your knee and traced small circles across your thighs with his thumb as he pulled out of the garage and into the street much faster than anyone in their right mind should.

He sped down the highways and streets making your 20 minute car ride 11 minutes long. But it was the most agonizing 11 minutes as Minho’s slightly rough hands teased you and played with your flesh. He whipped into a parking space at your apartment complex and wasted no time unbuckling and walking over to your door. He held your door open and gave you a hand to help you out of the car. When you were on your own two feet nothing was said but Minho diligently followed you as you climbed the stairs up to your apartment. Your reached your door and fumbled with your purse trying to get your keys out of the bag, but Minho was pressed firmly against your back, making you nervous. You could feel every hard muscle on his body as he patiently waited for you to open the door- including the one that you couldn’t wait to be filled with.

Finally the click of the lock turned and you opened the door to step inside. You threw your keys across the room and turned to face him once more- but Minho was much quicker than you. He slammed the door shut and ripped your dress in half by the straps, leaving you standing in your lingerie and heels. You gasped when the cool air hit your almost naked body. His strength and ability to rip your clothes off of you like it was nothing was so hot to experience. You couldn’t even pretend to be mad at him for ruining the dress. He growled at your exposure and ran into you pressing you against him in any way possible. He lifted your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the open door to your bed room. He walked to the bed and once the corners hit his shins he threw you down onto the comforter.

He watched you as you balanced yourself on the bed and he began to quickly and aggressively undress himself. He stripped down completely naked and you let your mouth hang open as you looked over every defined muscle on his body. His stomach was something that men dreamed to have themselves his legs were thick and toned like a soccer players and his plush red cock was at full attention. He crawled over to you and hovered on top of your body. You kicked your heels off with your feet and removed your bra.

Minho eyes your breasts before licking his lips and diligently sucking on each nipple. He let his lips carry over every surface of your body and made sure to leave dark painful hickeys wherever he chose too. Once he was happy with the art display across your body he kissed you hard on the lips while simultaneously ripping of your panties and tossing them away. You were too caught up in his kiss to notice that he had ruined yet another one of your garments and was ready to push straight into you.

“Princess, I think I’m going to have to skip the foreplay tonight.” He said before he slowly inched into you.

You threw your head back at the feel of his ribbed veiny cock pushing deep into you, stretching your walls. You were so tight having been single for so long and the feel of finally being with a man again felt like pure ecstasy. Minho pushed into you letting his full length rest inside of you and let you get adjusted to his size. He moaned and cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, how are you so tight” he said slowly rocking into you.

He huffed and puffed and growled trying to contain himself as you wrapped around him so deliciously. You ran your hands down his back and rested them on his hips and lightly pushed them harder into you, notifying him to move faster. Happily he obliged and began to pound into you at a relentless pace. He bucked his hips and pulled out each time only leaving his tip inside of you before he snapped his hips as far into you as he could.

“I want to fucking ruin you” he said through gritted teeth, holding onto your hips and moving you with him to his pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hips to meet with his. The lewd sound of your flesh meeting each other was loud in the room only spurring on Minho’s brutal pace. You could feel the pressure of your orgasm building and squeezed down on him, trying to make yourself last longer.

“Oh fuck… do that again” Minho froze up and begged you.

You squeezed down on him as long and hard as you can and Minho let out a muffled string of curses. He continued to pump into you as hard and fast as he could. But with your orgasm sneaking up on you and Minho’s constant cursing and praise you were at your limit.

You let yourself go and Minho held you tightly as you came undone around him. Your orgasm hit you hard and you fought against him as you tried to get away from his relentless prolonging. Minho was beginning to fuck you faster and sporadically as he chased his own release. His hands wandered across your flesh as he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to continue.

“Say my name” he commanded

“Minho” you barely whispered

He pushed himself to his limit and snapped into you only a few more times before you could feel his cum spread inside of you. He stayed seated inside of you and waited for your walls to take every ounce of his cum before he pulled out of you.

He laid down on his back and waited for you to even your breaths before he picked up the comforter and slid his legs underneath. He made sure that you were covered too before he pulled you to his side by your hip and pulled your arm around his body, making you cuddle him.

After your orgasm you were exhausted and you shut your eyes. You didn’t care if Minho stayed or left, only focusing on the pleasure that you just felt and going to sleep. But when Minho went under the covers and held you close to him you were pleasantly surprised. You hugged his frame and completely relaxed against him with a smile on your face, surrendering yourself to overwhelming exhaustion.

Your alarm blared in your ears and tore you away from your sleep. Six came way to quick and you were considering calling out of work so you could sleep in more. You peeled your eyes open and shut off the annoying alarm and found that Minho was gone. A small part of you was slightly hurt that he wasn’t there, and yet another part of you was glad that he wasn’t. Dealing with the morning after a one night stand wasn’t something that you’d dealt with before, and frankly you were happy that, that remained the truth as of this morning.

You showered and dressed before you made your way down stairs to drive to work. You eyed your small Civic and glared at the noticeable difference between your normal car and Minho’s Audi. You got in at turned on your favorite song hoping that it would make you feel better before submitting yourself to your boring job for one more day before the weekend.

The same old parking space waited for you vacantly, the same smell of floor polish filled the lobby, the same posters and familiar faces surrounded you in the elevator and the same never ending stack of papers waited for you on your desk. You rolled your eyes down at them before you took a seat and pulled the first page in front of you. You worked on it mindlessly for ten minutes before your best friend stood next to you at your small desk. She extended a coffee cup out to you with a knowing smile on her face.

“You look like shit” she said accusingly

You just scoffed at her before taking a sip of your drink

“Which means…” she started “That you went to Andromeda last night”

You nodded your head and closed your eyes as you smelled the sweet scent of the roasted coffee in your hands.

“I can’t believe you actually went! How was it?” she asked amazed

“It was crazy! I’ve never experienced anything like it before!” you said smiling at her and giving her your full attention. “I met the owners and sat with them in their lounge, got entirely way to drunk and took on of them home with me” you said quietly so only she could hear

She opened her mouth in complete shock and looked you up and down as if you would have physical proof with you. One by one more people came into the offices and took their seats around you making the intimate conversation inappropriate.

“Oh my god, at lunch you are telling me everything!” she said loudly before backing away from your desk and making her way back to her own.

You laughed at her piqued curiosity and sighed before you dived back into your workload.

You worked until you felt like your brain would explode. You backed away from your monitor and eyed the clock. There was still and hour to go until it was lunch time. You sighed and left your desk to go to the kitchenette and get another cup of coffee. You poured coffee into your cup and closed the lid, the smell alone was already making you feel better, so you took your first sip. It was like gods sole gift to human beings to make their lives slightly less shitty was the invention of coffee. You sat there for a moment and appreciated the space away from your desk for a few more minutes. You stepped out of the kitchenette and heard the familiar ding of the elevator, notifying the clerks that someone was about to arrive. You turned your head curious to see who was coming to the offices and gasped. Suho the CEO of EXO was standing in the lobby area with Minho. You ducked behind the wall and barely poked your head out watching the men. Had you have been at your desk you would have seen Minho clearly and he would have no doubt seen you too. You praised yourself for a moment for putting yourself where you were instead of returning to your desk earlier. Suho and Minho talked to each other and laughed like they were longtime friends. They walked passed the front desk and made their way past your desk and into Suho’s office.

“Shit shit shit” you quietly cursed

“What’s wrong?” your best friend asked you from behind “Why are you hiding like that?”

You jumped at her unexpected presence and placed your hand over your heart.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaimed and she laughed at you

“What are you doing?” she asked

You looked up at the ceiling contemplating your next move. You leaned into her frame making sure that she would be the only possible person to hear what you were about to say.

“That man that just went into Suho’s Office” you started and mentally kicked yourself “He’s the guy who I slept with last night” you confessed

“WHAT!?” she yelled catching everyone’s attention and you quickly put your hand over her mouth

“Shhh… he hasn’t seen me yet and I would like to keep it that way!” you hissed

“Well what are you going to do?” she asked

“I don’t know” you cried “this is so embarrassing”

She pat you on the back a few times before he stuck a finger out to you telling you to wait a minute. You watched as she dipped around the wall and approached the women at the front desk. She spoke with them shortly and then pranced back to you. You eyed her curious as to what she was doing.

“Okay, she told me that Suho is in a meeting until 12, so as long as you and I clock out and sprint out of the building he shouldn’t see you.”

You sighed in relief and relaxed a little.

“Okay” you said agreeing to the plan

The both of you looked at each other and smiled before going back to your desk. You worked and watched the clock as it ticked down by the minute. You were so distracted by the time that you had barely completed one of your tasks in the hour. Three, two, one… you furiously clicked on the mouse and clocked out in record time. You looked over to your friend to see what she was doing and she was already out of her desk. You swiveled around in your chair and stood up ready to walk away from your desk, when you heard the familiar laughter from earlier. You froze and your eyes widened out of fear. Without looking back you continued to make your way to the exit as fast as possible. You were just at the doorway when suddenly Suho called out your name. Very slowly you came to a halt. You turned around with a polite smile and bowed to him.

“Y/n, Minho tells me that you and he are friends, would you like to join us for lunch?” he offered

You gulped down your fears and made eye contact with him and Minho. Minho looked good dressed up in a suit with his hair brushed back. He smiled at you sweetly with an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I’m very sorry but I already have arrangements for lunch” you politely rejected

Suho just laughed lowly and waved his hand out to you

“It’s no problem, maybe another time” he accepted

You let out a sigh of relief and left the room with your best friend hot on your heels. What are the fucking chances that Minho would be here of all days? And have a casual conversation with your boss about you? You thought to yourself. You pressed the button for the elevator to open and quickly stood inside hoping that it would for once move faster than at a snail’s pace. The doors were beginning to close but Suho was quick to run and catch the door with his hand, preventing you from your only chance at escaping.

The two men made their way in the elevator and stood next to you. Your friend and Suho stood in the front and Minho stood next to you in the back of the small space. He made no attempt to hide his amusement as he stared at you with a smile. You glanced over at him in the corner of your eye and immediately look elsewhere when you made eye contact.

“What a small world, one of my employee’s is good friends with my best friend” Suho said with a small chuckle.

Nervously you chuckled along, but quickly stopped when you felt Minho’s hand move a strand of hair away from your face. You turned to face him and glare for his obviousness but all he did was look at you like you were a treasure. You continued to look at him with curiosity when Suho spoke up again breaking your spell from Minho’s gaze.

“So where are you two headed off to?” he asked no one in particular

“To the little Italian restaurant across the street” you friend quickly answered

You grimaced, mentally kicking and cursing her for giving away where you were going so easily. Suho smiled and her and turned around to face Minho. He noticed that he wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation at all but was staring at you. He glanced over at you and laughed like he’d proven one of his own theories about the two of you.

“What a coincidence… so are we!” he stated giving you a wink and turning back around.

NEXT PART

#kpop series #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop vampire au #vampire!au #Choi minho #minho #minho smut #shinee series #shinee vampire au #shinee minho #shinee taemin #shinee smut #shinee fanfiction

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rainbowserenity · 6 years

Text

I’ve decided to attempt to do 50k words of random fics for NaNoWriMo this year, so here’s 7912/50000 of self-indulgent vampire fic to start off~

Centuries.

For centuries, she had waited for this moment. She'd listened to the tug of her heart, anticipating when his existence would torture hers again. A few times, she'd missed the mark and there hadn't been any space to put plans into motion.

But now, it was finally time.

Lightning glanced at the locket down in her hands. It was open to show the miniature portrait inside. Quite honestly, it was an impressive piece of work, something that people these days would claim had been edited or was fake.

Though it'd been so long, she could still recall every tiny brushstroke, the look in his eyes as he dared to catch her glance, the little smirk...

She made an unimpressed sound and snapped the locket shut. That was in the past. Now, finally, she would get her revenge.

Finally, she would destroy the man that had ruined her life.

–

Hope Estheim ran a hand through his hair, his brows scrunched at the formula in front of him. Normally he was a whiz at this sort of thing, but today, he felt weirdly distracted. Usually number-crunching was a good way to keep his focus, but right now he felt detached from it.

“Hey, Hope. You okay?”

With a startled noise, he glanced up to see his friend Noel, who had on an easy smile of concern. It was a face Hope couldn't help but return.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's just hard to concentrate today, I guess.”

“I bet. I mean, hell, look at this weather.” Noel gestured towards the nearby windows of the library. The sun was shining, but the trees rustled in a soundless breeze that Hope knew was crisp and cool. “It's basically perfect out. So how come you're stuck in here?”

“I just wanted to get some work done.” At least that was partially the truth.

“Pfft, it's the weekend. Leave it for later.” Noel gave Hope's arm a little tug. “Yeul got invited to a Halloween party someone's having and we're coming along.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because nobody's going to party on a Tuesday, so all the parties are happening tonight.” Noel paused and gave Hope a careful look. “...You have no idea what day it is, do you?”

“Not a clue,” Hope admitted sheepishly.

Noel stared up at the ceiling for a second, like asking for help from some deity, then stared at Hope. “You're gonna get home and find some kind of costume, and then Yeul and I will come get you so we can go to this party. Got it?”

“Uh, yeah.” A pause. “Wait, a costume?”

“It's a Halloween party.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Somehow, Noel managed to swipe all the books and papers scattered across the table into Hope's bag in one swoop. “Does that help?”

It appeared he had no say in the matter. Hell, it wasn't like he was going to get any work done anyway. He sighed and grabbed his bag.

��It helps immensely.”

–

Somehow, Hope hadn't really thought about the social aspect of this party until he trailed into the house behind Noel and Yeul. It wasn't some wild blowout, but there was already music thumping despite the late hour and he spotted a keg off to the side.

He sighed under his breath. He'd never been a big drinker, nor was he party person. Sure, he could be social at times, but that was because people tended to flock to him for some reason and not because he sought them out.

Noel seemed to notice Hope's sour expression and arch a brow. “You okay?” he asked loudly to be heard over the music.

Hope nodded. “It's just...not my thing.”

“I figured that.” Noel grinned and readjusted the horns on his head. He and Yeul were dressed as a devil and angel, respectively. It was sickeningly adorable. “Hey, at least you look great.”

“I do?” Since he'd been given such little notice about this shindig, Hope had been forced to ruffle through his closet for something acceptable. In the end, he'd thrown on an old suit and a masquerade mask an old friend had left at his place from her brief stint in theater. He could barely see out of the thing, but at least it camouflaged how awkward his expression must have been.

“Yep.” Noel waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe you'll find someone to...hang out with.”

“Noel.” Yeul, who'd just been quietly listening, gently nudged her boyfriend's side as Hope's face turned red under the mask. “Don't embarrass him, okay? Let's get a drink.”

“As my angel commands.” Noel grinned, then glanced at Hope. “You wanna come with, or hang out by yourself?”

“I...”

Find me.

Hope blinked a couple of times and scratched behind his ear. Had that been a part of the song? Whatever, it didn't matter. All he knew was that he had some sort of weird impulse to actually mingle. “I'll catch up with you guys later.”

If Noel found this strange, he didn't comment. “Okay. We'll see you.”

“Yeah.” He watched Noel and Yeul wander off into the crowd of people hand-in-hand. A weird thought occurred to him just then – whose party was this? Whose house, for that matter? He tried to think if Noel had mentioned it, but was coming up blank.

Come and find me.

Hope's feet seemed to move for him as he wandered through the crowds. His peripheral vision was somewhat obscured by the mask, but he somehow managed not to step on any toes. If anything, people seemed to automatically move aside for him without even acknowledging him. He couldn't understand why until he came to a large area that'd been turned into a dance floor. The music was pumping far more loudly here than elsewhere, but it all hushed to silence the moment he looked across the crowd and spotted her.

A thousand emotions hit him so hard it nearly gave him whiplash. He couldn't explain it any easier than he could count all the stars in the sky, but the sight of that rose-haired woman both settled and unsettled him with familiarity that made absolutely no sense at all. There was fear and despair, but excitement and intensity all at once, just from meeting her eyes across the room.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to get control of his suddenly pounding heart. There was a part of him screaming to run, but a much more intense one telling him to...

Come closer.

Hope obeyed.

The rose-haired woman didn't look at all surprised when he was suddenly in front of her. In fact, it almost felt like she'd expected it. There was no hesitance in the way her hands rested on his arms. His automatically rested on her waist, like a motion he'd practiced thousands of times.

“You're here,” she said, voice practically a purr.

“I'm here,” Hope agreed, though he had no idea. He'd never seen this woman before in his life.

Right?

“I knew you wouldn't resist my call.” She smirked, sliding her hands to his shoulders in a motion that should really not have been as sensual as it was. “You never could.”

Though he still felt a little hazy, the fog cleared somewhat at those words and he blinked a couple of times, his hold on her waist loosening somewhat, though he didn't let go completely. “I-I'm sorry,” he stammered, “but have we met?”

“We have,” she replied in the same low voice. “Though I don't suppose you'd remember.”

A flash of something that felt like a memory pulse through his head, but it was gone before Hope could even comprehend what it meant. “Um...”

“Dance with me?”

She was already dragging him out in the crowd of people, so Hope felt like it would've been rude to refuse. He went along with a dazed nod, feeling drunk as their bodies pulsed to the music even though he'd yet to take a sip of anything tonight.

“Hey,” he murmured close to her ear – mostly to be heard over the music, but also because some part of him just wanted to be close to her. It was a bold move, but she didn't seem to mind at all, and in fact smirked again like she'd been expecting it. “What's your name?”

There was a weird pause before she answered, but she turned to murmur her reply. “Lightning.” He felt rather than saw her smirk, which sent a shiver down his spine. “Call me Light.”

“Light...” The name felt familiar and wrong all at once. “What are you doing here?” It wasn't what he'd intended to ask at all – it was like his words were being spoken for him.

“I told you,” Light said in that same low tone. Her hips were moving against his in a way that should've been illegal. “I just knew you couldn't resist my call.”

“But I don't even know you.”

He stilled when her lips suddenly skimmed the side of his neck, his breaths trembling against her ear. Again, he felt her smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

Even though he was quite sure that he would've remembered meeting someone like Lightning – unless he'd been drunk or something, and he actually hadn't had any alcohol in months – the answer came from him immediately. “You're right. I've been waiting for you, haven't I?”

I have...?

“Yes,” she said. The music seemed very far away when compared to her voice in his ear. “You've been waiting a very long time.” One of her hands cupped the back of his neck, fingers threading in his hair in a tantalizingly pleasurable fashion. She tugged a bit and he went with it, his eyes fluttering closed as he exposed his neck to her.

“I have,” he murmured in agreement. “I've been waiting.”

A shiver went down his spine as Lightning kissed his neck. “And so have I.”

Hope's eyes shot open at those words, wondering at the stab of fear that accompanied them, but there was a sudden flash of pain on his neck and everything went black.

–

“Mr. Estheim, you really must hold still or this will be hardly be identifiable.”

“It's a bit difficult.” He smirked, but resumed his original pose of looking to the side to show off his profile...and what a delightful profile it was, Lightning mused. She stopped painting for a moment and simply stared, the way he had been just now.

“Difficult how?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.

He chuckled, daring to dart his eyes to her again. “Must you ask?”

She smirked back. “I'm afraid I indeed must.”

“You bring me great embarrassment to admit such a thing out loud.” Despite this, he seemed amused.

Lightning rolled her eyes. “We are the only ones here, last I looked.”

He made a show of looking around. “So we are.” A dramatic sigh. “In that case...” Now he was staring directly at her. “It's difficult to think that you're still creating art based on me, when you are the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes upon. I can hardly bear to look away even for a moment.”

“Don't be foolish.” Despite her words, there was a pleasant smile on her face.

“Oh? You would dare to argue?”

“Hmm...” Lightning set her brush down and crossed the room to where he sat, her the layers of her dress swooshing around her legs with every step. When she got close enough, she merely leaned in, taking his profile – the slightly upturned nose, his strong jawline, those sea-green eyes – and cocked her head in contemplation. “I could say the same of you, Mr. Estheim.”

Though he'd held still at her inspection, at those words, he finally turned to look at her, arching an eyebrow. “Is that why you insisted on my portrait for your own?”

“I feel as though I'm the only one who could paint you the way you deserve.” She smiled and cupped his face, tracing his perfect skin with the pad of her thumb. “And it's why I insist. I'd rather hold you close to my heart when you're away.” Lightning tapped her collarbone with her free hand as she said this, indicating where the finished portraits would go – stowed inside a locket that would appear as a mere brooch, never to show the lovers pictured inside.

He hummed under her touch, slowly meeting her eyes. “Perhaps you can capture my elegance, but...who could dare to capture yours?”

She smirked. “Maybe you could try and paint my portrait as I am with yours.”

“I wouldn't dare insult you like that.”

“It would hardly be an insult if it came from your hands.”

He covered her hand with his own, the other one lightly grasping her waist with a wicked smirk. “You know, Miss Farron...I could think of a thousand better uses for my hands.”

“Is that so?” She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed...not that it would have deterred them any.

He stretched his ridiculously long legs out on the lounge chair as he pulled her onto his lap, that smirk still on his face. “Let me prove it to you once again.”

–

Hope sucked in a ragged gasp as his eyes flew open. His head felt foggy and clear all at once with...dreams? Memories? Honestly, he didn't know what to think at this point.

Wait. Step one. Where was he?

He slowly sat up, feeling oddly drained like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and glanced around. This wasn't his room, but it was familiar, at least. He'd stayed in Noel's guest room many times.

Okay, step one down. Step two – how the hell had he gotten here?

And...what the hell had happened last night?

Luckily, he got one answer when there was a knock at the door, though it opened before Hope could say anything.

“Oh hey, you're up,” Noel greeted, flicking his eyes over Hope. “You look like shit. Aspirin?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hope managed to croak out, surprised that his throat felt so raw and dry, like he was thirsty, though he honestly didn't feel particularly hungover. Not that he knew what that felt like. Noel produced two aspirin and a glass of water, which Hope gladly knocked back. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And here I thought I wouldn't have to worry about watching out for you.”

Hope stared at the glass of water in his hands. Though he rarely drank alcohol, during the few times he had in his life, he'd never had enough to warrant a hangover. This was honestly all new to him, which was why he was so hesitant when he finally asked, “...What happened last night?”

Noel raised his eyebrows. “You don't remember?”

“I wouldn't ask if I did.”

“Got me there.” Noel plopped down beside Hope. “I wish I knew what you drank, because you were kinda funny.” He laughed. “You were talking in an accent and saying weird stuff, like you were a completely different person.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. And you kept going around asking for someone named Claire.”

Nausea, fear, and need slammed into Hope so abruptly that it felt like someone had physically whacked him with something. He doubled over, hand covering his mouth as his eyes went wide.

Noel scooted aside. “Don't tell me I need to get you a bucket.”

Weirdly enough, that calmed him down some. Hope slowly let his hand fall and sat up. “N-No. I'm fine. I just...” He looked at Noel. “Are you sure?”

“Sure about what? That you're not going to puke all over me?”

“That I was asking for a...” He had to brace himself. “...A Claire?”

“Yeah.” Noel relaxed a bit when it became clear that Hope wasn't gonna get sick all over him. “Ask Yeul if you don't believe me. You were relentless about it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I'm guessing you met someone last night?”

Instantly, the rose-haired woman popped into his head. Lightning.

“I did, but...” They'd been dancing and then...what? He had absolutely no idea. The only clear parts of last night involved her, but even those thoughts were hazy. “Noel, where'd you find me?”

“Outside, actually. It looked like you were yelling at the sky. Probably screaming out equations or something, I dunno.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Nerd.” Noel chuckled again. “But you were so out of it that you didn't even recognize me and Yeul. You kept asking who we were. So we just said we were gonna take you home and...” He gestured to the room. “We did. You're lucky we found you, dude.”

“Yeah.” And truly, he knew that he was extremely lucky to have friends that looked out for him, despite how weird he must have been acting. The excuse that he couldn't recall having any alcohol at all wouldn't go over very well here, so he decided to let that go. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” Noel patted Hope's shoulder and stood up. “I'm gonna go help Yeul make breakfast. Come on out when you're ready, okay?”

“Sure.”

After Noel left the room, Hope finally had it in his head to gather his thoughts somewhat...not that there was much to gather. He was still in his dress shirt and pants from last night, though either Noel or Yeul had taken off his shoes and suit jacket. And the mask...

The mask had been tossed on the bedside table. Hope picked it up and stared, like it was going to give him answers. Maybe the stupid thing had obscured his vision so much that he's somehow just...conjured her.

Lightning...

If last night had actually happened, why had he told Noel in his apparent drunken state that he was looking for someone named Claire? He was pretty sure he didn't even know anyone by that name. Maybe he'd heard wrong or it was part of a song or something...

Come and find me.

With a sigh, he tossed the mask onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever the hell was going on, maybe it could wait until after breakfast.

–

Over the next few weeks, the party gradually slipped from his mind in lieu of all the work he had to do, but Lightning remained. Everywhere he went, he kept his eyes peeled for a shock of rose-colored hair, but always came up empty.

However, he got a shock of a different sort one day.

“Oi, you!”

Hope blinked and looked around. He'd been so lost in though that he'd barely realized that so much time had gone by – he'd spent nearly half the day in the library, and already, the sun was beginning to set. He sighed and started packing up his stuff.

“Hey! I'm talking to you.”

“Huh?” Hope looked up in surprise, only to come practically face-to-face with a beautiful woman with dark, wild hair. She cocked her head and smirked at his confusion, seemingly finding it amusing.

“Silver hair and no right to be so damn handsome,” the woman murmured. “Yep, gotta be you.”

Hope's face erupted into a blush. “E-Excuse me?!”

“You're Estheim, right?”

“Huh?” Hope was at least eighty percent sure that he'd never seen this woman in his life. “Well, I mean – that's my last name, yeah, but...”

“Good enough for me.” She hoisted him to his feet with an unreal feat of strength. “Follow me. I've got someone who's dyin' to see you.”

“Wait a second!” Despite his protests, Hope had already gathered his bag and was following the woman out of the library. “I don't even know your name!”

She barked out a laugh and, weirdly enough, put on some gloves and covered her head with a hood before they stepped outside. It was chilly outside, yes, but the sun was still beating down brilliantly despite the incoming sunset, at least for this time of year. “Name's Fang.” She was still chuckling at this, as though at some private joke.

“Oh.” Hope followed her down the block, through some twisty side streets, and finally to a cluster of homes that looked to be in dire need of TLC. The area seemed weirdly familiar. “Wait, is this...?”

Fang ignored him – as she had the whole time they'd been walking – and walked into one of the houses, calling into it, “Hey! You up yet, sunshine?”

Hope stood in the doorway, shell-shocked.

This was the house from the Halloween party – empty from all the guests and oddly quiet without the music pulsing, but unmistakably the same place.

Before he could even hope to process this, he heard footsteps come from another room, recognition slamming into him like a physical being.

“Light...?”

“Hmmm.” Lightning tilted her head with a little smirk, keeping her eyes on him as she walked up to the doorway. “Thanks for finding him, Fang.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm goin' back to bed for a couple hours.”

Hope didn't question why Fang was supposed to find him or why she was going to bed before sunset. All he could see was Lightning.

She smiled – though it didn't quite reach her eyes – and tugged him inside. “Are you surprised?”

“Extremely,” he managed to croak out. “How...? What's going on?” Answers. That was what he needed. “What happened after the party?”

“Why does that matter?” Lightning continued tugging on his hands, threading their fingers together in a way that seemed totally instinctual. “You're here now, aren't you?”

“I...”

“I've been waiting for this.” The smirk reappeared on her face as she pulled him onto the couch. Somehow, he knew exactly how to hold her in the perfect way before even acknowledging what he was doing. “You have no idea just how...long I've been waiting...”

He let out a trembling breath as she leaned in to kiss his neck. His thoughts immediately went back to the party. Hadn't something like this happened then? She'd been kissing his neck like this and then...

Miss Farron...I could think of a thousand better uses for my hands.

“Farron…?” he mumbled in a daze, but then something sharp and soft and painful and pleasurable stung his neck and darkness overcame him.

–

“Mr. Estheim, may I have the pleasure of introducing my sister, Serah?”

“Pleasure's all mine.”

Lightning couldn't blame the little smile that formed on Serah's face. “Oh no, it's certainly mine.” Too late, she curtsied, but it was a bit clumsy. Luckily, no one seemed to mind. “It's an honor to meet the man who has my sister so flustered.”

“Serah - !”

There was a low chuckle. “No need for such an outburst. In fact...” His eyes met hers over Serah's head. “I'm honored that I continuously garner such a reaction from you.”

Lightning narrowed her eyes, sure that he was teasing her, but he only smirked in that annoyingly smug and handsome way of his. “An honor, sir? I'm not sure I would call it that.”

“I would,” Serah interrupted with a smile. “Claire speaks of you quite highly...especially when she's certain I'm not listening.” Before her sister could interrupt, Serah continued as she curtsied again, “And I do apologize, but I promised a friend I would meet with them today. I believe my escort is here.”

Lightning tried not to be annoyed at the twinkle in Serah's eye. “Would you like me to walk you?”

“I'm certain I could find the way,” she teased, though her tone was slightly more neutral as she addressed him again. “Very lovely to finally meet you, sir.”

He bowed his head. “You as well, Serah.”

Lightning could have sworn that Serah winked as she passed, but left the room too quickly for any comment. After the last rustle of her gown had completely vanished, Lightning turned back around to face the man who was smirking at her.

“Pay her no mind. She's still young.”

“The young have a way seeing things a way others don't.” He slid his hands onto her waist, while she was helpless but to touch him back, her hands resting on his arms. Improper conduct, yes, but...certainly not the first time. “Perhaps she knows you better than you believe.”

“I might agree.” Lightning slid her hands to his shoulders, then wound her arms around his neck. “Serah is...” She looked over her shoulder. “She's everything to me. There's little I wouldn't do for her.” A pause. “...Little that I haven't done for her.”

And, she didn't add, little that she wouldn't do over and over again, given the opportunity.

“It makes me wish I had sibling.” He pulled her a bit closer. “To have someone so devoted to you without question.”

She looked back up at him, a little smile quirking the corners of her lips as her fingers thread into the silver hair at the nape of his neck. “You don't need a sibling to experience such devotion, sir.”

He smiled like a cat that had captured the canary. “Exactly what I was hoping to hear, Miss Farron,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a frenzy of passion that made her grateful that Serah had already left.

–

When Hope woke up this time, he had no idea where he was. The room was bright – too bright – but it wasn't because of the sun beating through windows. The entire room, including the walls, the bedspread, the furniture, everything, was completely white.

Which only made the spots of blood on the blanket and his pillow all the more noticeable.

He sucked in a breath, remembering the last thing that'd apparently happened before he'd blacked out – Lightning kissing his neck.

Had she only kissed it...?

He scrambled out of the bed, his clothing such stark contrast to the whiteness of the room that it honestly made him dizzy for a second. Still, he stood up on shaky legs, trying to look for a mirror so he could see and make sure...

When he didn't find a mirror in the room, Hope stumbled to the door instead and yanked it open...only to be met with Lightning's gaze.

She didn't look at all surprised to see him upright. Instead, she seemed almost angry about it, though how he knew this, Hope had no idea, especially since she wasn't saying anything. The look in her eyes, thought...that storm of betrayal...

“I've seen that look before,” he gasped out before he could stop himself, even though the words made absolutely no sense. Every time he'd seen Lightning until now, she'd been nothing but a shadow of mystery. He had no idea who she was.

Did he?

“I would think so,” she replied, and there was a noticeable accent in her voice he'd never heard before. “The question is, do you remember why?!”

She gripped the back of his neck and yanked him towards her, forcibly tilting his head. He gasped, instinctively grabbing onto her arms.

The last thing he felt before everything went dark again was a sharp pain that felt suspiciously like fangs.

–

She hummed in contentment as his fingers traced her bottom lip, smiling lazily as his journey continued down over her jaw and neck. Her eyes fluttered opened when they traced her collarbone, if only because Lightning knew she could allow him to go no further.

“I didn't think you to be awake,” he teased as she took his hand, moving it to her naked waist instead. It was safer that way.

“How could I sleep, knowing you were right next to me?” She slid her palm over his chest, moving her hand upwards until she was able to run her fingers through his hair.

“A fair point.” He seemed oddly pleased with himself...but then again, he usually was when she spent the night with him. Lightning had to attribute it to the typical male ego. Perhaps...in time she would see a change.

No, no. Best not to think about that. She'd did what had to be done. The only thing that would make it perfect would be...

“I have a question,” she said, adjusting herself a bit more comfortably under the covers.

“Yes?”

Lightning hesitated. She had to preface this the right way. “It's just a bit of my mind wandering, but...have you ever imagined what it might be like to live for an eternity?”

She'd expected him to laugh off such a notion and answer her question in a teasing manner, perhaps list off the things he'd do with an eternal life, but to her shock, he instead stiffened and sat up a bit, looking down at her in a way that he'd never done around her.

Wary. Suspicion.

She instinctively pulled the covers around herself a bit more. “I...don't mind me. It was just a silly question.”

“Hmm.” To her further surprise, he suddenly slid out of bed and started putting his clothes back on. “Silly indeed.”

“What are you doing?” Lightning sat up, holding the covers to her chest. “I thought you were free from engagements today.”

“I just remembered one I need to take care of.” She watched him dress, looking as impeccable as always, even without the aid of a servant. “Don't worry. I'll come back for you.”

“All right.”

He swiftly left the room after he was dressed without kissing her goodbye...nor had he looked her in the eye.

–

Lightning pulled away for a second, and Hope knew he wasn't imagining things when he saw the blood dribbling out the side of her mouth. His blood.

“I...will make you...remember,” she hissed, and he didn't have the strength to push her away as her fangs sank into his neck again.

–

She was numb.

As her sister's only family, she should have been the one making arrangements, visiting with friends, and seeing that everything was running smoothly. It was her job, after all.

But she couldn't move.

For nearly a week now, she'd felt as though she were paralyzed with sadness. No, sadness wasn't even the correct word for it – she felt distraught, hollow, empty.

Serah was dead.

This wasn't supposed to have happened for decades. Serah was the one who was supposed to live for the both of them, to wed and have generations of children and grow old as anyone should have.

But the other reason Lightning felt completely wrung out was because of how Serah had been found.

With a stake in her heart.

Which meant that someone knew...only they'd gotten the wrong sister.

She wasn't just numb from sadness – she was also paralyzed with fear. Had she been smarter than this, she would have left right after the burial and fled town. What else was here for her any longer?

There was a gentle knock at the door, a familiar sound that made Lightning glance up when the door opened a bit.

He was the reason she hadn't ran.

The moment she saw him, Lightning forgot all decorum and got to her feet, the layers of her black gown rustling as she rushed to him and fell into his arms. He hugged her back tentatively, as though she were made of glass.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Not in the least,” she admitted, not ashamed to do such a thing in front of him. Her voice was a bit muffled by her mourning veil, so she raised her head a bit so he could hear her properly. “I just don't...I don't understand. What could have driven anyone to do such a thing...?”

He sighed, stroking her hair a bit, though she barely noticed that the motions were halfhearted. “Perhaps someone got suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Suspicious over what?!” Now she pushed away from him and started to pace. “Serah has never hurt a soul, nor would she ever. What could she have possibly done that would give cause for someone to wonder if she were a...a...” Lightning shook her head, unable to bring herself to say the word that was her reality...not Serah's.

“I wonder,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made Lightning look up at him curiously. For a blessed moment, she was distracted by Serah's death in favor of wondering what was going through his mind.

“What do you mean?”

“I've been hearing some strange things lately,” he said, not quite looking at her. “Rumors from those who dare to leave their homes at night.” He fiddled with something in his pocket. “There have been traces of death in town, followed by blood.”

A knot formed in her stomach, but she managed to remain calm. “Really?”

“I didn't think to believe it, but the rumors have been growing – talk of a phantom that led those who would not be missed to their deaths.” Only now did he finally look her in the eyes, and the knot in Lightning's stomach erupted into fear. “A rose-haired phantom.”

Though she'd been warned that humans would figure out what she was at some point, hearing the one person she'd ever loved at a level comparable to Serah all but confirm it shattered her heart into a thousand pieces.

“I can explain - ”

“I'd rather not hear it.” He was smirking again, that same face he always wore when his ego was getting the better of him. “How long before this...monster stops with the ones that don't matter and goes to the ones that do? How many will she kill?”

“I don't - ”

He slammed his hand down on a glass goblet. The shards pricked his skin into a bloody mess and he held it up, fear and satisfaction on face when the scent lured her to bare her fangs at him with a hiss.

“At least there's only one of you now!”

Everything froze.

Though she had a potential eternity in front of her, Lightning knew that nothing would ever compare to that moment of clarity when realization dawned. It was as though everything was suspended in time just for a second as she struggled to believe it.

But the truth was as clear as anything.

“You did it,” she whispered, eyes wide. She still couldn't move. “You killed my sister.”

He let out a laugh unlike anything she'd ever heard before – it was the sound you would hear coming from an asylum late at night; a noise that sent chills down your spine. “I had to, Claire! I couldn't very well let vampires kill us all! Were you going to get me next?! Drink all my blood after I sold my company and steal my riches?!”

“No,” she replied, still unable to do more than whisper. “Of course not. I lo-”

“Don't say it!” he screeched, finally bringing out what he'd been fiddling with in his pocket – a wooden stake.

Had she been in control of her emotions, Lightning would have laughed. As it was, all she could do was tell him the truth and hope that, somehow, he would snap out of it.

“The stakes are a myth,” she said. “You cannot kill a va – a vamp...”

“You're lying!”

“I'm not.” She wrapped her arms around herself, inwardly kicking herself when tears started to fill her eyes. “Serah was human. She was human and you killed her.”

He paused. Lightning knew she should have run or knocked him out – maybe even killed him. Something. But her love for him kept her feet planted firmly on the floor, hoping against hope that he would understand.

For what, though? He had murdered her sister. For that, there was no redemption.

Not even for him.

This thought came to her mind a second too late. While everything moments ago had felt like it was suspended in time, now the world spun too quickly as he dropped the stake and his hands closed around her neck.

“Then I'll do better with you!” he hissed, and she was too shocked and full of despair and love to fight back.

–

“Hey! You – damn, what's your name? Ah, forget it. Just wake up, damnit.”

Everything was dark.

How could he see this? He was no longer a part of her life, convinced he had done the world a favor and disposed of a monster. Though she'd only passed out at his hands, it'd given him enough time to bury her alive, sure that she would never escape the coffin he'd fashioned just for her.

When he thought of it as a good deed to the world, it was easy to forget their love, and easier still to forget how the look in her eyes had cursed him before she'd passed out.

He was better than a vampire. He would survive – no, thrive in all of his lives after this one, always learning more and bettering himself. Never would a vampire best him. Not even her.

Not even -

“Claire!”

Someone's hands flew off of him into an 'I surrender' position. “Well, damn. Never know how you humans are gonna wake up half the time, I swear.”

Hope gasped for breath, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon. He saw the woman who'd introduced herself as Fang to the side of his bed, her expression annoyingly amused, though she seemed a bit concerned as well.

Luckily, he was out of that white room and in a much more normal-looking one, which helped stabilize his breathing somewhat. Once he'd finally calmed down, he ran a hand through his hair, surprised that it was damp with sweat.

“Claire,” he said breathlessly. “I mean – Lightning. Light. Wha – where is she?”

“Off somewhere pouting.” Fang quirked a brow. “You're actually concerned about her?”

“Yes. I – I mean, I saw - ”

“Finally remember, eh?” If she noticed his confusion, Fang didn't care. “Never thought she'd actually pull it off. At this rate, I was pretty sure she was gonna kill you, even though we're tryin' to avoid that this time around.”

Hope stared at her, his head still spinning. When he was finally able to speak, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “How do you and Cla – Light know each other?”

Fang arched a brow again, like she couldn't believe he was asking that. “We go way back.” She chuckled. “Way back, really.”

“How...?”

“I did her a favor, she decided to stick around.”

“You mean you're the one who...”

Fang held up a hand. “Ain't my story to tell. If she's done pouting, get her to tell ya herself.”

“I'm pretty sure she wants to kill me.” Literally.

“Well, yeah,” Fang replied, as if it was no big deal. “But she won't. Not right away, anyway.”

If that was supposed to scare him, it didn't work. Hope just had the strange urge to...apologize, of all the crazy things. Nothing made sense anymore. “Where is she?”

“Second door on the right. Careful, she's in a mood.”

–

The first thing Lightning did when he finally managed to get to his feet and find her was bare her fangs at him with a hiss. It was eerily reminiscent of the...dream? Memory? ...that had just plagued his mind earlier.

He held his hands up. “I'm not here to hurt you. I promise.”

“A likely story.” She waltzed up to him with venom in her eyes, and even though he probably should've run, he remained where he was. “That's what you said back then!”

“That wasn't me, Light.”

She hissed again. “I thought that this generation was supposed to be more open-minded. You've never thought of the possibility of reincarnation?”

“No,” he admitted. “How do you know?”

“I would recognize his soul anywhere.” Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes flashing with pain again. “And if for some strange reason you didn't believe me at my words, the fact that you saw his memories when I drank your blood is proof enough.”

Hope immediately touched his neck. Until now, he somehow hadn't quite connected 'vampire' with 'drinking his blood' and suppressed a shudder as he dropped his hand. “That wasn't me, though,” he insisted. “Maybe I am this guy's...reincarnation or whatever, but I'm also me.” As he said this, he was sure that it was the rawest, most vulnerable he'd ever been in front of another person. “And I would never hurt you.”

Her eyes flicked over him in disbelief, though something in her expression softened somewhat. “Why do I have the feeling that you're one of those disgustingly honest people who are so diplomatic that everyone can't help but love?”

“Was he like that?”

Lightning flinched. “...It's probably why I was drawn to him.” She pulled a chain up from over her head and opened the antique locket that'd been hanging from it. “That's how I saw him.”

Hope looked at the portrait, impressed at the level of detail and uneasy at how similar the painted profile was to his own. They looked remarkably alike, right down to their hair part, although there was something in the portrait that was...sharper and more dangerous. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“You painted this, right?”

Lightning put the locket back on. “Yes.”

“That's really impressive. I don't have an artistic bone in my body.”

“It was one of the more 'acceptable' pastimes for ladies.”

“At least you took advantage of it, I guess.” Hope paused, knowing his next question was treading on dangerous ground. “...Was Serah also an artist?”

Lightning made a sound that was almost like a growl, baring her fangs again before backing down. Was she realizing that he and her past were not one in the same? “...Not so much. She wanted to be a nurse.”

This time, it was Hope's turn to flinch. Nursing had always be a position to be proud of...and yet Serah had been robbed of that. “Why?”

That question was met with a glare, but something inside of Lightning seemed to finally break. Despite the numerous places to sit in the room, she leaned against the wall and slowly sank down to the floor, visibly swallowing. After a pause, Hope gingerly sat down next to her, wondering if he would get an answer.

Eventually, Lightning spoke. “When she was younger, Serah contracted a disease I now know is tuberculosis.” Hope's eyes widened. “Back then, there was of course no treatment, no cure. Our mother had died giving birth to Serah, so she was the only family I had left. I couldn't let her die from it as most did.”

Even though he was starting to put the pieces together, he needed more. “What happened?”

“I took Serah to every doctor I could reach. I exhausted what little money we had to try and save her, but she came closer to death every day. I was at the end of my rope.” She stared at her hands. “One day, someone I didn't know came to visit her. I thought she was a nurse, or at the very least, a woman of the cloth who'd come to bless Serah. She was so close to death that it was that obvious. But she told me there was a way. If I wanted, I could save Serah.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Lightning clenched her hands again, then released them. “She told me that vampire blood could cure anything, and it would only work if I was one to do it since we were family. I could become one and give my blood to Serah to save her life.”

Hope was stunned. He'd read stories before suggesting a thing, but of course, he never once in a zillion years thought that vampires were real. “And...I assume it worked?”

“Of course. Don't be an idiot.” She huffed. “The woman who'd found me was actually Fang's girlfriend. They lived together in secret, for obvious reasons.” She sighed. “Fang turned me into what I am, and I was able to save Serah...at the price of my mortality.”

They fell into silence. Hope was honestly impressed – even though he was sure that a lot of people would jump at the chance to be immortal, there was the actual practice of it. Even though she'd saved Serah's life, eventually Lightning would have had to move away or watch Serah grow old and die anyway. Had she stayed with him, she would have been forced with the same situation...over and over again, for all eternity.

“That's why you asked him about immortality,” Hope said as comprehension dawned. “You wanted to turn him into one, too.”

Lightning nodded slowly. “He ran a very large and profitable company that bought and sold various good overseas. It was easy for him since he was so charismatic. Initially, he commissioned a portrait from me that would hang in his office, but...” She trailed off, obviously recalling old memories. “It became far more than that. I just didn't know he thought of himself of the unofficial protector of the town, who kept phantoms at bay.”

Though there were people in his life that he didn't really care for, nobody had ever deliberately hurt him or anything. Even his father, who he usually didn't get along with, was okay at times. Hope couldn't believe feeling something for someone so deeply and then the sting of their betrayal.

“Before I woke up a little bit ago,” he said carefully, “I had another...dream, I guess. He...” He shifted around. There was no comfortable way to say this. “...He buried you alive, didn't he?”

She was silent for a full minute before speaking. “I had to drink my own blood to survive. It nearly drove me insane. It was fifty years before I was able to break free.”

“Didn't Fang and her girlfriend look for you?”

“They tried, but there were already enough whispers around town. They couldn't risk themselves more than necessary. I wouldn't have wanted them to, anyway.”

Hope nodded a bit, understanding that. It still blew his mind that all of this was...real, and that he wasn't back in some crazy dream or memory or whatever, not to mention that he was apparently the reincarnation of someone so awful. “Are you going to kill me?”

Lightning went quiet again. Whatever murderous rage she'd had when he'd first come to her door seemed to have vanished. “Do you want me to?”

“Not particularly.”

“I've been waiting centuries for you.” Finally, she looked at him, hundreds of years of pain and regret and patience in her gaze. “I thought it would be so easy once I finally had you where I wanted – that I wouldn't hesitate to kill you once I made you remember what you'd done to me. I wanted you to suffer with the agony of your choices the way that I have for so long.”

“I can understand that.” Truly, he did. It was easier now that he'd seen those memories. “But it's like I told you, Light – I'm not him.”

She continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression and he didn't move the whole time, only letting out a breathe when she murmured, “No. You're not.” She paused. “He wouldn't have come to find me like you did just now.”

Something compelled him to reach out and rest his hand on hers. Though she tensed up at the touch, she quickly relaxed into it, now looking at him curiously as everything stilled again.

“Maybe you could get to know me as me,” he said. “I only knew you as Claire back then. Maybe now I can know you as Lightning.”

There was a long pause, but the world finally flowed into motion again when she smiled. “What'd I tell you? Call me Light.”

He smiled back and squeezed her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Light. I'm Hope.”

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