#LaCE was taken out back and humanely put out of it's misery

[starshipsofstarlord]

Teeth

Pairing | Damon Salvatore x reader

Summary | “Men, soldiers never believe in silly tales of vampires and witches, they were all meant to spur fear in small children. But to the dismay of mankind, they exist, and must refrain from running from one, all for the occurrence of love that beats in the heart of the eldest Salvatore brother.”

Warnings | mentions of death, smut

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He was but a mere mortal, wishing to please his noble and respected father, whom had chosen to welcome fleeing guests into his grand home. Those guests consisted of a group of travelling women, who were scouring across the country, and taken political refuge where it was offered.

The gesture was a nice one, but it was no secret that he was not the kindest of men. However no human was, neither vampire. Each individual harboured their own ruthless desire, may it be blood or gold, to die in battle or to die after hundreds of years, it was all the same. A want, a luxury that they dreamed of.

Katherine had aimed her cold blooded sights on Stefan, the younger of the two Salvatore brothers. He was more brooding, the favourited by father and one of the women that were residing in his lovely home. There was an impulse Katherine had, not only for sexual proceeds, but to turn him, change him into one of the living undead.

A vampire. A drinker of blood, a fume to the sizzling sun. It certainly was not the life suited to every man or woman roaming the spilt earth, however each settled into the transition on their own terms. There were some who vowed only to feed from the forest animals, refusing to bring humans into their diet. Or others who thrived off the kill, ripping tight knitted throats out for pleasure alone, smirking in satisfaction when seeing the blood paralleled through the mirrors, presenting the red disdain upon their clothing.

Alike to Katerina, you were a fleer of the sun, a woman whom adorned an enchanted ring to bask in the daylight, and to top that off, were also enraptured with the thought of one of the handsomely crafted brothers. There was something about him that was addictive, but ironically enough, you had never fed on his blood, not once.

Damon Salvatore was a savoury supplement, a drug that made you feel better on your bad days, or even when Katherine ordered you around as though you were some witch. His gleaming smile sparked some life back into your dead body, but nothing was ever perfect, and secrets could never remain hidden.

“How absurd is that?” He asked you, stifling a reign of laughter, trying not to laugh at his own spoken words. “My father has a belief that vampires are killing the townsfolk, he’s even speaking of instating a hunt for them, to purify and ensure our safety.”

At his words, you could do no more than freeze, you felt as though you had been exposed. And to some extent you were, as you laid in the man’s velvety bed, the start of your breasts and lower hidden by the sheet. You had waited for him to return, as he spoke to his father, and here he was, kicking his shoes off, and undressing himself, only so that he could join you underneath the linen again.

As he slipped under, you felt cold, scared even, and how ironic was that, considering that you were the monster taut in the pure sheets. But he only pulled you closer, running the puckering off his sweet human lips up your neck, using his teeth to sink a bite unto your skin, whilst not using enough force to break it. His action made you shiver, for you were the one that usually did the biting, not vice versa.

However, you allowed him to continue, the wavering path of his tongue running up the side, stroking the shell of your ear as he whispered quite enticingly into it, though, it was the words that had you hooked, not the seductive tone that he upheld in stronger knots than his rugged curls. “You’re not one of them, are you?” Breathily, he laughed afterwards, causing you to join in to disguise the truth behind his joke.

And instead of quarrying about this matter, you turned to him, palming his naked chest as you felt the warmth hidden beneath his skin. He was too good for a creature like you, that much was evidential to your eye, he deserved to be happy, and live his mortal life free of the misery that you were surely going to bring. You knew, that if you allowed Katerina to know just how much this singular man meant to you, she would turn him.

She thought of herself as a saint for all the things that she did for you, but you saw her as nothing but the opposite. Katherine Pierce, or whatever she was to convert her name to appease modernity to, broke every toy that she found entertainment in, watching with a wicked smile on her vampiric face as your own was saddened, and forced to abandon said object of your attention.

Though, she was the last thing that you wanted to think about as Damon rolled on top of you; you could feel his cock resting upon the inside of your thigh, the tip of it pulsing with sexual excitement. Moving your hand beneath the covers, you grasped his length, causing him to hither his breath against the glands of your neck, raising his swollen lips to your own, mushing his nose above said point.

Choosing to forego foreplay, you directed his dick towards your folds, causing the man to rut in between your lips, sliding the wetness around his girth to act as lubrications. And with a slow entry, the pair of you gasped in a shared and open eyed unison, basking in the feeling of each other. When he was completely inside of you, he began to retract, only to piston lovingly back inside, leading you to claw at his back like an animal.

Funnily enough, that comparison was not entirely wrong, you were a predator of human kind, devised to live off their bloodstream for all of eternity. But this one, Damon Salvatore was not seen as food, he was your life, though you could never admit it for his own sake, and to protect his humanity from Katerina.

What was it that the Bennet witch had said to you, ah yes, it was “Men, soldiers never believe in silly tales of vampires and witches, they were all meant to spur fear in small children. But to the dismay of mankind, they exist, and must refrain from running from one, all for the occurrence of love that beats in the heart of the eldest Salvatore brother.” And she was right, although, you were certain that you could not stay, even if it be for Damon.

People would catch on to your youthful complexion remaining the same, and so would be, and there was no telling to how he would react to the truth, if you dared ever shared it with him. And so, you would instead opt for cumming around him, and giving him the one thing that every man wanted - pleasure. It was much different than what you needed, the smell of his divine blood had your fangs grinding, thirsting for a taste.

But you held back, never daring to harm him, and instead, threw your head back in pleasure, eyes screwed back as you rested promptly upon the plush cushion. However, that had been a mistake, for when Damon’s pitch curve of eyelashes fluttered open to stare down at you, he saw the sharp and pointy teeth hanging out of your mouth.

And so, he knew that what he heard was true. He shook, only moving to the motion that you set him with, as you idly guided him by your feather light grip on your back. Still he said nothing, trying to forget about the image of your fangs on show, thinking moreover about the sensations of you clenching around him. The sight, as terrifying as it was, sparked a desire to continue inside of him, as though he were compelled, but he knew that couldn’t be true, he had drunk a vervain laced drink with his father moments before he had returned.

Damon was indeed infatuated with you, and could not help but feel protective over you, all things considered, since you had never dared drink from him, nor anyone that he knew, or as far as he did. And so, he released with a groan, feeling you complete around him seconds later. As he pulled out, he felt the sticky seed of himself intermingled with your spilt juices slipping down to the base of his cock, but instead of cleaning it, he fell back beside you, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Damon, are you okay?” Your fingers stroked his chin, dipping in the small ridges of it as you felt his day old scruff tenderly. It was clear that you were expecting an answer, and so Damon flashed you a smile, one that was not forced, and pasted it towards you.

“I think I am.” He sighed, relieved, relaxing into the slow kiss that you pushed upon his lips, putting his work into the interlocking also. For now, he could keep a secret, and the image of your teeth to himself, nobody had to know, for all he knew, his father had no evidence that there were real vampires lurking about, or staying in his residence.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable  ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 8

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3   Chapter 4 Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“Heartbreak looks good on you...” My sister commented impishly, watching me slip the teardrop earring into my lobe, the ruby red stone glinting in the dimlight of the bedroom. 

It was a couple of weeks since my uncle had come over and today, all the important clan leaders from around the country would be heading over to pay their respects to him. As one of the oldest surviving vampires, he commanded a lot of respect and no one really wanted to be on his bad side. 

Which just made me love Jungkook all the more because I couldn’t forget how he’d literally thrown himself in between us that day. I wanted to give him  everything  in return but apparently, all i was allowed to give him was space. 

My father had visited me everyday , giving me a very cryptic, ‘ I’ll make sure the two of you get your happy ending, dearest but you need to trust me and stay away for a while. Just a while. ’. 

But it seemed so impossible, so far away and just so unlikely that I was beginning to lose hope. 

It didn’t help that I hadn’t actually seen Jungkook in these two weeks . Namjoon took his place and my only connection to him was Joowon , who told me his father was busy ...that he stayed with Hwasa most evenings . I felt jittery and nervous and even more so today because of the lavish party being hosted in the Grand Ball Room, which was easily the biggest room in the entire estate. The last time it had been opened was for my parent’s wedding a whole two centuries ago.  

For once I couldn’t hide in the daycare in sweats. My uncle apparently insisted that i be present for the party tonight. 

It only made my anxiety skyrocket. 

I was a mess when it came to formal parties with century old vampires. I had all the formal training of course, but still the etiquette lessons were long forgotten and lot of those cranky old bats had very archaic ideas about what was allowed and what wasn’t. 

I  didn’t want some entitled century old vampire pawing at my neck for a drink tonight. I really didn’t. 

But i had done my part. Put on a red dress, the backline dipping all the way down to the base of my spine , let one of the make up artists in the clan have a go at my face and even put on blood red lipstick. 

I grunted , trying to yank the small lace and leather garter up my thigh. It had a holster for a dagger, the small ornate silver one that all the women in the clan carried. The dagger was crafted with the Hwang crest on its handle and I carefully sheathed it in, patting my thigh to make sure it wouldn’t slip down my limb. 

“Don’t make fun of my misery.” I glared at her and she actually laughed. 

“Sera, you feel too much too deeply. Jungkook isn’t going anywhere. He’ll come around. “ She said gently.

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to wait though. I... I don’t know why I hate waiting but I do..”

“He looks like a kinky bastard. Tell me, did you guys try anything ...I don’t know..risky?”

Nothing riskier than getting edged in front of a whole hotel full of guests and then getting fucked in the back of a car. Oh, did I tell you he spit in my mouth? And I loved it.

“Not really.” I lied but I could feel my face heating up as I turned around, back to the mirror as i felt my ears burning.

My sister shrieked so loud I jumped, nearly knocking over the bottle of perfume on the dresser.

“Oh my God, Sera, you naughty little bint! Tell me now!!!” She screeched and i flushed.

Like hell i was telling my sister what we had done.

“It’s private!!” I hissed when she tried to yank me and she laughed. 

“You’re shy... aww that’s cute. But that’s just because you recently got un-virgined . Bet you  can’t wait for him to desecrate your special place again, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows. 

“That is the single most disgusting thing you’ve ever said.” I gagged.

She laughed again. 

“Relax. He was your first. Happens . But like I said, don’t worry about him being serious about this. I think he is. You guys had sex and dad knows that. And yet somehow he’s still walking around with his had attached to his shoulders. Do you really think father would have let him live if he didn’t have feelings for you?”

I frowned.

“That’s not fair. It was consensual. He didn’t force me into anything or tell me he had feelings ....”

She scoffed at that. 

“Please tell me you still don’t think he hasn’t got feelings for you. He went batshit-crazy when you went on that date with Yugyeom. Jimin thought he was having a stroke or something. Dude’s so gone for you it isn’t even funny.”

“ Fat lot of good that does me! ” I snapped. “ If he doesn’t acknowledge those feelings he might as well not have any. And so far he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not going to act on them. Ever.” 

“Because he’s clearly involved in something dangerous.” She said easily, making me blink.  “I’m not supposed to be telling you this but I’m kind of sick of you moping around like the world is ending and I’m just going to trust you to be smart about it.”

“What do you mean dangerous?” I whirled around to glare at her, pulse racing. 

“I have no clue. Dad and Jungkook are working on something.  But they’ve been huddled in the administrative building for three days now and no one has seen them . So i don’t really know what it is they’re planning. But I’ve always wondered if Jungkook was hiding from something. It would explain why he’d work as a bodyguard...with his skills he could be so much more.  ”

Frustration bloomed,  this time laced with worry. I wanted to know what was going on. God, if i could only see him. A glimpse would be enough. Just to make sure he was okay. Just to hear from him that he was okay. That he was going to be safe. 

“Think he’ll be at the party?”  I asked softly, feeling a whole lot pathetic at the way my heart lurched hopefully. 

My sister gave me a very mischievous smile. 

“Maybe . Maybe not. You look ravishing by the way.  And everyone out there wants you. Literally. Don’t forget that. Don’t be easy. Make him beg a little. ” She winked. 

I frowned. 

“He won’t beg. He’ll turn the tables around and make me cry.” I shuddered.  . Which really wouldn’t be that hard . I felt like I was always on the verge of tears these days. 

The knock on the door made us both look up. 

“Who’s escorting you tonight?” My sister asked gently. 

I shrugged. 

“No one. I’m just gonna walk in there by myself because I hate all of you. ” I grabbed the small bejeweled clutch from the table and hesitated just a second. 

God , I had no strength for tonight but there was a possibility that Jungkook could be there tonight. And I wanted to see him, if for no other reason than to kick him in the teeth. 

 I slipped into the strappy peep toe heels, stumbling a little because i wasn’t used to them. 

Swearing at the sharp pain shooting up my heel and shin, I wrenched the door open. Ignoring the simpering man on the other side, i stalked right past him. 

It was going to be a long , long night 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom looked ....for lack of a better word : overwhelming. 

Whoever was in charge of the decoration had clearly taken the budget, quadrupled it and then pretty much ordered one of everything. I stared at the sheer overdose of satin and gauze and felt myself shuddering. 

Red and black was the theme for the night and I half wished I’d chosen to wear something in turquoise blue just to give my eyes some sort of relief. But there was no denying that it looked especially lavish, the huge hall big enough to fit a dozen foot ball fields, the high ceiling that seemed to stretch right up to the heavens and the million candelabras and chandeliers hung all over the place. 

The carpeted floors felt soft under my foot and it was still early, only a few pople flitting about while the ushers and helpers rushed about, tweaking deatils, rechecking placement charts, placing refreshments on the table. Small bottles of blood arranged neatly on the table and I rolled my shoulders, eyes darting around to find someone familiar. 

Kim Minjae and Kim Mingyu were just entering the hall and I grimaced. God, no. But i watched as they casually posed in front of the blood red backdrop, while cameras flashed and i frowned. Were supernatural tabloids really that starved for material? 

“Sera, go on, you need to get your picture taken too!” My aunt materialized out of nowhere , dressed in a puffy red gown with ruffles and I shook my head. 

“Later... i need a drink.” I said quickly, escaping her clingy fingers and rushing away . 

As the only human in the entire damn place, I would have to walk all the way to the bar on the far corner of the ballroom to beg for a drink. 

I was half way there when a commotion at the door made me look up. My father had arrived with him a majority of his counsel and a bunch of other guests as well. I stared, my eyes zeroing in on a very familiar figure , my father’s arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Jeon Jungkook stood right next to my father dressed to the nines and with a dazzling smile in place. 

I gawked at him. 

Trying to process what it was that I was seeing. 

He was smiling. He had the audacity to smile after ignoring me for two whole weeks. 

I took a deep breath.

“You better have a pretty darn good explanation for the radio silence you treated me to the past two weeks. “ I intoned dully to myself , trying to ignore the way he looked, completely at ease in the spotlight. 

He turned a little to the left and his gaze caught mine. I watched as he smiled and shook hands with the people around him before whispering something to my father. 

I dug my heels into the floor, glaring as he extricated himself from the elite crowd and slowly began walking over. God, i wanted to kick him so bad. 

He stopped in front of me, looking expectant and my anger merely doubled in intensity. 

“Anything you wanna say, Jeon?” I snapped. 

“You’re beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Red is your color, angel. I wanna see you in it more often. “ He answered at once. 

My mind went distressingly blank for a whole thirty second. 

“ Did i fucking offer? ” I demanded , angry. “ I’m not dressing up for you. Ever. You ignored me for two entire weeks Jungkook! i didn’t know where you were...what you were doing...” 

“Sera, I’m sor -” He began but I squawked in disbelief, shoving him away hard. He stumbled, more in surprise than from the impact but he looked surprised .  

I felt myself shaking in anger. How dare he?

“Oh, no. No. You do not get to waltz back in with a simple sorry.... not after treating me like shit the past two weeks...Absolutely not.” I snarled, shoving him again but this time he didn’t budge. Ugh. 

I made to move past him but he grabbed my elbow , yanking me back till I crashed into his chest. It was humiliating , the way my body practically vibrated with pleasure from being near him. His arms around me felt like heaven and I’d spent two whole weeks in purgatory. 

“You need to stay with me Ms. Hwang. I’m your bodyguard, remember?” He whispered, lips pressing against my neck, breathing in my scent  and I glared at his arms.

“No you’re not. Namjoon is!! Where is he?” I asked angrily , but he pulled me closer, hands resting on the bare skin of my back as he hugged me tight, lips latching onto my neck, breathing deep and my knees buckled. i had missed this. So much and even if this was all i got, I wanted to savor it. Savor it even if I hated him for the way he treated me all the fucking time.  

“Missed you.” He whispered, lips wet and wanting , damp on my skin as he pressed kisses along my shoulder. I loved it but I knew he was going to leave me again and that just made me angrier. 

“You’re a liar.” I choked out. 

“No. I’ve lied about a lot of things but never about how you’ve made me feel, Sera. You set me on fire.”

I choked, anger and affection flooding my senses, confounding me because it was like being caught in an endless game of push and pull. 

I trembled, fists punching his shoulder in protest but he didn’t move. I could feel eyes on us and it made me flush. How dare he... How fucking dare he. 

“Let go of me! You said you don’t want me so let me go!” I said petulantly and he made a small noise of protest. 

“That’s not true angel...you know it’s not. I want you... Want you so damn bad , i ache with it.” He whispered the words into my skin and I bristled. 

“Fucking liar, let go of me!” i was going to cry. Actually burst into tears in the middle of the ballroom. 

He didn’t let go of me. 

Instead his fingers fluttered down my bare back, feather light and maddening , tracing a path down my bare skin and I gripped is jacket at the electric contact. 

i trembled, my thighs shaking but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I wanted him. I swallowed, shaking my head. 

There was no music and we weren’t even near the dance floor. I couldn’t imagine how we must look to the people around us. But it was hard to think of that when I could feel him all over my body, could feel his heartbeat pulse right against mine and when his arms felt like an anchor , grounding me . 

“You think I need you.” My voice shook a little, “ I really fucking don’t Jungkook and I want you to remember that. I don’t need you. I don’t need to touch you . I’m fine with you never touching me ever again. ” I lied, gripping him harder. 

My words didn’t match my actions at all and he seemed to realize it, chuckling lightly and letting me press myself closer into his warm, solid body. He kept his arms around me, waist pressed into mine and thighs hard and solid against mine.

“I know that... i need you far more than you need me.” He said sweetly, kissing my brow and stroking my hair. He slipped his fingers into the strands, running the silky length between his fingertips , his voice brimming with fondness . It hurt, the fact that I couldn’t have this all the time. 

That somehow I was only offered glimpses of this Jungkook. Little snapshots of a what our life together could be but when I tried to draw closer, he always pulled away. 

I glared at him wanting to demand more answers 

. And then my eyes fell on the small dagger sheathed into his belt. My sister’s words floated into my mind. Was Jungkook running from something? 

“Are you in danger?” I whispered, softly. “ Darling, i need to know if you’re in trouble. I need to know.” 

He trembled a little at the endearment. 

“Baby, I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me alright. It’s important that you stay safe. “

The words brought no comfort of any kind. 

I stared at him. 

“What is it with the people around me spewing platitudes in my face without telling me what is going on! Do you just not trust me?” I asked desperately, hurt blooming. 

Jungkook swallowed.

“i trust you with my entire life Sera. But, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He said gently.

I rolled my eyes. 

“Please....you’re five centuries old , so can you leave the whole cliché knight in shining armor back in the dark ages and just treat me like your equal? I’m not a helpless damsel in distress Jungkook...!!” 

He nodded, reaching for me again but I pulled away, wrapping an arm around myself. He hesitated, hands stretched out to touch but hovering a few inches away . 

“you’re right. I was out of line. But to be fair your father was very firm that I had to stay away from you...no contact of any kind till tonight. “

“And what’s so special about tonight.?” I asked , upset at how little i knew about what was going on. Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he pressed a palm to my cheek, thumb tracing circles on my jaw, before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. 

“ You’ll see. “ He smiled, “ And as for the rest of it, we’ll talk about this . I promise. We will....tonight after everything ends. I need to go now. Your father’s waiting for me,” 

I clung to him, feeling abandoned all over again. 

“What are you guys upto?” I grabbed his arm but he gently pulled my fingers away. 

“I’ll come find you. “ Was all he said before moving away and I groaned in disbelief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh oh. I can recognize that look. On a scale of one to ten , how much trouble is Jeon Jungkook in?” Namjoon asked gently, watching me glare daggers at the man in question as he hung around near the front of the hall, surrounded by clan leaders.

 He was meeting everyone, apparently a social butterfly and i couldn’t fathom it. The last time we’d had a party he’d sneaked off to get laid with Helena. 

Speaking of who,

“She’s going to castrate him. I can feel it.” The sultry eyed vampire, sat next to me, her long nails tapping the scarlet drape of the table as she watched me, eyes heavy and hot, gaze trained on my neck.

 I’d never felt more like prey. 

“ Nice to meet you Helena.” Namjoon said casually taking the seat next to me. Great.  I was caught between two vampires that knew exactly how gone I was for Jungkook and exactly how ....not gone he was for me.  The night just kept getting better. 

“Always a pleasure daddy.” Helena said , eyes dancing with wicked mischief and Namjoon choked on his wine, spewing it all over the table. I stared at the pair in disgust. 

“Disgusting.” I snapped. “Look at him. He hasn’t looked at me in an hour. How am i supposed to believe that he wants me so much I set his skin on fire.” I demanded shrilly. 

Both of them went quiet. They looked very uncomfortable and i felt myself flush. 

I glared at them , self conscious. 

“What?! Jungkook said so himself.” I protested. 

Both of them began guffawing. 

“I’m never letting him live this down.” Namjoon chuckled and I rolled my eyes. I could feel eyes on me, everywhere. Everyone’s gaze flitted to me every few minutes. Some of the younger vampires hovered a discreet distance away but had their gazes trained on me . 

Everyone looked at me except Jungkook. There really was no justice in this god forsaken world, was there? 

Did he really think I was weak and harmless? I suddenly felt foolish . I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t powerless. 

So , so far from it in fact.

I didn’t use my abilities because of how morally ambiguous they were. My father had drilled it into my head, right from childhood, that I couldn’t use my powers without explicit permission from him and I had listened to him. 

Had played the role of the harmless human who just happened to have really intoxicating blood inside her veins. 

But somehow that had ended up with me being pushed out of the loop with the man I loved. Jungkook thought I was some kind of helpless damsel he needed to keep safe and it just...it irked me. 

It was laughable that he thought something could be dangerous to me. 

It was laughable because I  was  easily the most dangerous creature in this entire room. 

i pulled my phone out, texting furiously.

 I want to see you. 

 I stared at Jungkook waiting for him to see. He pulled his phone out read the screen and to my utter chagrin he slipped the phone back in without answering.

 All right, That’s it.  

I stood up slowly, Namjoon stiffening next to me. 

“Where are you going? “ He asked warily. 

“To mingle.” I said casually. “ you can stay here, daddy. I’ll be fine by myself. “

He spluttered again and Helena laughed lowly. 

“I like her. “ Her voice rang out and i smirked, making a beeline to wards the front of the room, where Jungkook stood with a few other vampires around the same age as him. They all straightened at the sight of me, lust evident in their eyes and I saw Jungkook go a little stiff when he noticed I was alone.

“Where’s Namjoon?” He said shortly. 

“With Helena.” i said with a shrug.” Evening gentlemen.” I smiled softly, parting my lips lightly, letting my tongue dart out and wet them before leaving them parted, tongue peeking out. 

Jungkook pressed in closer, arm darting to wrap around my waist but he seemed to think better of it, pulling away again. 

“Sera...” He began warningly but i cut him off. Jungkook didn’t know what he had. 

And I was too fucking beautiful to be ignored tonight. 

“Isn’t someone starting the music? What a terrible bore this party has been...” I said loudly and the men scrambled closer, almost tripping over each other. 

Pathetic really but at least they served their purpose. 

“Should we get you another drink, Sera?” One of them said. 

“Let me go find that Dj...” The tallest of the lot wandered off. 

“You’re right..are you hungry..? Where’s that waiter?” The one right next to me lifted a hand, waving the nearest uniformed helped and I smirked at Jungkook. 

“Having fun?” I asked. 

“You need to go stay with Namjoon.” He said stiffly.

“where’s the fun in that? “ I hesitated, locking my eyes with him and lightly lifting my heel up to rest on the chair right next to him. The slit in my dress fell open, exposing the entire length of my leg, especially the red lace of my garter. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the dagger strapped to my thigh, the red and gold stark against the milky white flesh. I rand a forefinger up from my knee to the top of the garter belt, lightly circling the tip over the sharp edge of the dagger. 

“Don’t...” He growled. I smirked.

“Don’t what?” I whispered. 

“Don’t fucking do it, baby... I’ll be really , really mad if you do. “ He was almost shaking with the effort to not grab me and i could feel it. Feel the urge to put me in my place, simmering beneath his skin but he was helpless. 

Any wrong move on me and he would have a dozen daggers in his heart within the next second. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about .” I feigned ignorance, purposefully pressing the thick of my finger into the edge of the dagger, gasping as it broke skin, tearing my flesh and drawing out my blood. 

A collective gasp ran through the crowd around us and it was quite the sight, an entire group of century old Vampires going stiff as boards,  nostrils flared pupils blown wide open as they all stared at me .

 I smiled wide, trying to inject a note of contrition into my voice. 

“Oops. That was clumsy of me. .” I giggled, holding my finger up. the blood beaded over and spilled , trickling down my wrist and I locked my gaze with Jungkook’s, bringing my arm up, licking the scarlet fluid up, tracing its path with my tongue all the way to where the dagger had nicked me before sticking the finger into my mouth with a lewd pop. 

A vampire, about three feet away from me was breathing heavily , grabbing the chair next to him and sinking into it. His fangs were out and his breathing was erratic. i watched his eyes flash red and I laughed.

“I’m sorry. “ I said sweetly and he gave me a blank smile.

“That’s alright, my lady . “ He was almost choking from the effort to stay composed. Poor thing. I let my gaze flit back to Jungkook who had a terrifyingly blank look on his face. 

“You little whore.” Jungkook whispered softly and i lurched. 

“Yours . If you want me. But if you don’t...then anyone’s really.” I shrugged unrepentant. 

“Really? You think any of the vampires here’s gonna want you after the stunt you just pulled? No one wants a needy little slut.” He said casually but I could see him shaking a little. There was a teeny tiny crack in that cocky attitude and I’d never wanted to stick my fingers in something so bad. 

I felt myself grin in anticipation. 

“It’s not about what I think, Jungkook. Its about what I  know.” 

He stared at me. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You think I’m helpless, Jungkookie.... But the truth is... I can turn every single person here into my own personal  marionette if i wanted to. “ I shrugged. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting in surprise. 

“I’m listening.” 

I moved to the table in the corner, patting the chair next to me. He took the seat next to me and I smiled. 

“Now watch....” I snapped my fingers, signaling the waiter with the glass jar of lemon soda  and vodka in his tray. 

“Can you let my father know I want to leave the party early with Jungkook here?” I asked gently. The waiter flushed, but nodded and I casually slipped my finger into the lemonade jar, dipping lightly in the fluid.

Jungkook grimaced . 

“That’s disgusting.” 

I laughed. 

“Now let’s see who gets to drink it.” I followed the waiter as he moved around stopping in front of a group of very young vampires, about four or five of them. Two girls and three guys. They all took glasses of vodka from the waiter and i sighed.

“You know what makes my blood so powerful Jungkookie? “ I said softly. “ It’s the fact that it is  sentient.” 

Jungkook went stock still still next to me, lips parting in shock.

“What?” He croaked. 

I nodded.

“My blood is sentient. It can feel and see and control. If my blood mixes with yours, it will dominate your thoughts and feelings. I will literally take over you. But it also needs my instruction. So it’ll put you in a trance..... Leave you feeling boneless and disoriented , easier to manipulate. People think its because it tastes so good and they enjoy the feeling. They don’t know what the fuck they’re opening themselves up to...by letting me inside. “ I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“I’m painted as the beautiful, kind and precious human who needs to be protected....only because I am anything  but. In this room, Jungkook....I’m probably the one capable of wrecking the most havoc.” 

“Sera...”

“Nobody knows except for my father and I because...well... just the scent of it makes people chase me down. Can you imagine what they’d do to me if they knew the true extent of my powers.” I said bitterly. I let my gaze shift back to the kids with the drinks. The drinks that were tainted with my life essence.  

I watched them take sips of their drink and felt the mild tingling in the back of my head. Like a gossamer thread forming and wrapping around me and I swallowed. It was easy to ignore and I never had any trouble ignoring it when I let my family feed from me. Because I trusted them. 

But these kids though. My body thrummed, focusing on one person. 

The girl in the red halter top. 

“See the girl with the red top and black skirt....” I swallowed. “ She slit the throat of an old woman on her way here.” 

Jungkook swore next to me. 

“I can see the woman... she’s on her knees , begging for her life. She’s really old.” 

That wasn’t all. i could feel the grip of the dagger, the push of the blade against skin, the pull as the flesh gave in, the blood spurting out onto my fingers the scent of death as she bled out. 

I felt nausea bubble and I severed the connection forcibly. The girl’s pretty face didn’t match her filthy insides. i couldn’t stay in her head. The tendrils began wrapping around my head as  the four of them took more sips. 

“When I want... i can influence their thoughts. It takes more effort but it’s possible. it’s why my father wanted to make sure you actually wanted to be with me. He thought I’d coerced you . which I can . if I want. But I didn’t. I don’t do that ever. ” I shook my head. 

Jungkook’s brows raised. 

“By coerce you mean....”

“It can be as simple as influence your decision... but if I really put in the effort, i can make people physically do what I wanted. “ 

“Physically?”

I smiled.

“Remember the boys from my college ? the ones who nearly drained me out?” 

He nodded. 

“My father didn’t have them defanged. They did it to themselves. Literally stuck their own hand into their mouth and ripped their fangs out . Because I wanted them too.” 

Jungkook looked like he’d stopped breathing. 

I swallowed.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that if you’re trying to protect me by withholding information, its kind of unnecessary. I can take care of myself.” 

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Just tell me what’s going on  “ I sighed.  Jungkook gave me a piercing look. 

“Remember Joo Won’s mother?” 

“The witch you killed?”

“Her father’s out for my blood. He doesn’t know where I am as of now. Your father thinks one of his lackeys must be in attendance today so he’ll know where I am.... and  he’ll come for me. And when he does... I’m going to end it .”

I stared at him.

“ Okay. “ I swallowed. “ How dangerous is he?” 

Jungkook laughed without mirth. 

“I’m not sure if I’m coming out of this alive.” 

Blood rushed to my ears, so fast I felt momentarily lightheaded. My entire body rejected the mere idea of Jungkook getting hurt. And to hear him talk of it so lightly, it messed me up badly. The fragile hold I had on my mind snapped. 

“No.” I said angrily. 

Across the room, the girl in the red halter stumbled,  clutching her head .

  Anger and the urge to hurt clawed up inside me and I tried to get it under control. 

Fuck, I had to sever the connection fully before i did something terrible to her..

 But it wasn’t happening, 

In fact the more i tried to get away the more her conscience seemed to be wrapping around mine., 

 Distance. I had to put distance between us. 

I need to leave now,  I pushed the thought in through the connection and  i watched her as she stumbled away from her friends, hands buried in her hair.

“Sera what the fuck... “ Jungkook grabbed my arm, eyes wide and panicked and I trembled. 

I felt guilty and scared because there was a reason i didn’t do this and the reason was quite simple. This power...or whatever you wanted to call it, It was bigger than me. I couldn’t control it . 

My blood was sentient and sometimes it could control me , just as easily as it controlled others. 

“She’s just leaving... I just made her leave because I’m not .. I can’t. ...fuck...” My head swam as I tried to get my bearings. 

“ okay that’s it...we’re getting out of here.... ” Jungkook stood up, reaching for me and I blinked, disoriented and dizzy. “Come here, baby I got you...” 

I let him wrap his hand around my waist, half lifting , half dragging me out of the ballroom and into the hallway. I gripped his chest, stumbling. I wasn’t tired, just struggling to get my head on straight . 

But the scent of him calmed me. 

“I need you.” I whispered. “ I need you to be safe Jungkook. I’ve spent too long pretending to be something I’m not but with you... I’m.. You... You make me feel human. Truly human. “ 

“Fuck... hang on. I’m gonna take you to my cottage.”

I blinked

“your what?”

“My cottage. Hang on...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jungkook opened the door to the cottage, I felt a little like myself again. But my body thrummed , my skin on fire, my fingers trembling with adrenaline. 

“you look like you need to lie down.” He said gently.

I glared at him. 

“The last thing I need is to lie down.” I snapped.

He held his hands up.

“Alright. Calm down, baby..... Why are you so upset?” He asked soothingly and I scoffed.

“ You fucked me in public and the next day  you looked like you’d been handed a death sentence, when my father suggested that you court me and then... you disappeared for two whole weeks....and now you turn up and tell me that your life is in danger. You do all this shit and I’m  not allowed to be upset? ” I said angrily.

He hesitated. 

“I merely meant it would be dangerous. I am not actively trying to die.” He said softly.

“As for the rest of it.... I’m not the same person I was a month ago Sera.... You.. You’ve managed to claw you way into my heart and the only reason I didn’t want to court you was because of what I was involved in. I told you that...the baggage I’m carrying is too much for me to even think about being with you.... That’s the only reason. “

I stared at him. 

“Are you telling me you fell for me too?”

Jungkook smirked a little.

“You were fucking me all the time without touching me. How could I not fall for that utterly shameless gaze of yours. You were your heart on your sleeve and your heart is always filled with filthy thoughts about me Sera. You make it way too obvious. “ He said teasingly. 

“I don’t want you to die.” I said petulantly. 

“That makes two of us. “ He smiled. “ What do you want, Sera?” 

“Want you.” I said automatically, too raw and upset to think too much about it.

“You have me.” He stepped closer, hands resting on my shoulder, eyes earnest and i hated how much I wanted to believe him . But heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak had taught me that it was all a lie. I didn’t have him and now ....there was a possibility I could never have him. 

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, angry. “ Don’t lie to me. I don’t have you.” 

Jungkook made to touch me again but I shoved him away, hard.

“you’re angry. “ He said thoughtfully. “ I understand that. You have every right to be angry. And I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to hear right now...Not until this whole debacle ends. But Sera...look at me...”

I bit my lips staring at him.

“I’m here. Now. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just us. You and I. Don’t worry about what happens next. Don’t. Let’s not worry about any of that. I’m here and I’m telling you I’m yours. You have me now.” 

I stared at him, tilting my head as I took him in. 

He didn’t move , merely staring at me evenly.

“You know.... you aren’t the only one who hates being ignored.” I said softly. 

I felt weird. 

Different. 

None of the usual nervousness or anticipation but instead a sort of burning need to  take. To reach out and pin him down , force him to follow through on his promise that I  had him. 

“ I’ve been giving too much of myself to you, Jungkook ...for way too long. I think it’s time I get something back.” I whispered. 

His lips curled in a small, impish smile and he looked a decade younger. His eyes flashed with mischief and anticipation. He looked eager....desperate even and I wondered if this is what I looked like all the time with him. 

“And what would that be...my queen?” he whispered meekly. 

“You. “ I said simply. “ All of you. Your words... your pain...your pleasure... your moans and your very breath. I want to take all of it.” 

I could see his pupils dilating even from the distance between us. 

“Its yours, sweetheart” Jungkook  bowed his head gently, holding his arms out. “Tell me where you want me...how you want me...” 

I glanced around the room. Not the bed. Not yet. 

There was a very sturdy looking chair in front of the small table in the corner. 

“Put that in the middle of the room and sit down.” I pointed at the chair. 

He smiled.

“You want me to stay dressed?” He asked carefully and I nodded. 

“Very well.” He moved to get the chair, placing it in  front of the bed. He sat down carefully. 

“Anything else?” He asked gently.

I narrowed my eyes at him 

“Yes. Keep your mouth shut unless I ask you something.” I said with a smile. His eyes widened in surprise. But he didn’t protest. 

I took in the sight of him on the chair, dressed in his perfectly fitted tux , legs spread and hands on his knees, eyes wide and alert as he stared at me. Pretty red mouth shut obediently. 

I moved closer till I was standing right between his thighs. His hands came up to grip my waists instinctively and I glared.

“Hands’ to yourself Jungkook. You don’t just get to treat me as you fucking like and then touch me without my permission.” I snapped. 

He lowered his hands , letting them rest on his knees again.

“Do you want to touch me , baby?” I whispered pressed my palm to his face before letting my fingers trail up to his hair. it was soft and silky to the touch, the strands like fine silk. 

“Yes.” He answered simply. 

“Then you need to earn it.” I threaded my fingers' into his raven locks, gripping hard and yanking his head back . i stared, fascinated by the ivory length of his neck, the little mole there and i pressed a kiss to his skin. I let my teeth sink in , just a little and then a little bit more. When he shifted, I pulled back, licking the skin to soothe the sting.  His breath caught and he gasped, eyes widening a bit and a small, ‘ fuck’ leaving his lips. 

I pulled back , keeping my fingers in his hair , gripping lightly, before reaching down with my free hand. 

“You have such a pretty neck and it make me wonder what it feels for your kind...sinking your teeth into people and feeding from them. Too bad I don’t have fangs. But you know what I do have?” I winked . 

I brought my leg up, the front end of my shoe resting on the small empty space on the chair , right in the V if his legs. If he moved even a little, my toes would brush the straining length of his cock visible even through the black of his slacks. He was so hard I knew it must’ve hurt. 

I gripped his hair harder and tilted his head down to he could stare at my thighs, specifically the dagger in my garter. 

“I want a taste . Of you. Can I?” I asked gently staring at him, fingers fiddling with the dagger and unsheathing it. 

He nodded. 

“Words. Please.” I smiled.

“Yes...fuck yes.....please...Sera...” 

“Good boy.” I winked, bringing the dagger up to his neck. It was really sharp and I used the tip to lightly draw a small dash, an inch below his ear. I watched the blade tear through the flesh, light and delicate, the skin cleaving and scarlet liquid bubbling up. I chased the flow with my tongue, licking it into my mouth and Jungkook trembled in the chair, jerking forward.

The movement jolted my foot onto his crotch and he grunted, grabbing my ankle when I made to move it away, keeping my heeled foot on his clothed cock. I swallowed,  little out of my league but i stared at him, at the sheer intensity of the desperation in his eyes and I inhaled ....before gently bringing my toes down to press into his cock. 

He moaned, thighs trembling and I  dropped the dagger to the floor.

I slipped both my hands into his hair, holding his head in place as i bent low to capture his lips with mine, sticking my tongue inside his mouth while grinding my foot down into his cock. I licked into his mouth, chasing the warm heady taste of him, my fingers tightening in his hair for leverage and I wondered if he was wet.... If his cock was weeping precum, dribbling into his slacks .

I pulled back to stare into his eyes but he had them shut.

“Look at me.!” i demanded,”  wanna see you...” 

His eyes fluttered open, doe- like and warm and swimming with pleasure and I’d never felt more powerful in my life. I moved my foot slowly, in small controlled circles for a few seconds. 

“You wanna cum in your pants like this? Rutting on my foot like a little mutt? Or do you want to get on the bed and touch me like you wanted to...?” I whispered softly. 

Jungkook swallowed and his fingers tightened on my ankle. . 

“Wanna cum like this.” He said taking me by surprise. I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really... then what about me...?  I want to get fucked too Jungkook ..? How’re you gonna do that if you cum so fast.....” I snapped, gripping his hair harder and he groaned. 

“I... I’ll fuck you again... i promise.. I’ll fuck you hard and make you feel good... just..let me cum...please.. It fucking hurts...” The way his voice cracked a bit on the last few words made my heart jerk inside my ribs. I found myself fighting the urge to give him everything. 

I smiled instead, kissing his lips again.

“Thank God for fast refractory periods huh, my big bad vampire?” I bit his lips, tugging it between my teeth , before reaching between us and slipping the shoe off my foot. Jungkook trembled, gripping me for support when I pulled my foot away and I let him cling to me for a second, before dropping the shoe down and pressing my bare foot on his erection. I spread my toes over the head, pressing down just a little and he inhaled sharply when i circled my toe on the wet patch . 

“Go on them. Make yourself cum.” I whispered, leaning down and kissing him again. He grabbed my ankle with both hands, rutting up into the balls of my feet, hips thrusting up and I let him lick into my mouth, messy and wet as he chased his pleasure. 

I felt him stiffen underneath me, followed by a wash of dampness under my sole and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close and letting him bury his face into my neck as he trembled through the aftershocks. He gripped my waist, hands shaking as he held me and i waited, worried if I should take my foot off or not. I could feel my legs beginning to cramp and I swallowed.

“You okay?” i whispered.

“Yeah.” He grunted. “ Fuck..that was...” he laughed a little. 

“We’re not done.” I said pressing a kiss to his cheeks and stroking his hair back gently. 

He hummed, gently gripping my ankle and lifting my foot off his crotch. I brought my leg down, wincing a bit. 

“Should we get on the bed?” He whispered. 

I nodded, yelping when he stood up with me still in his arms, he carried me over to the bed, dropping me lightly. 

“Strip.” I said quickly. “ All of it. Want you naked and stretched out on this bed for me.” 

He moved quickly, stepping out of his clothes with ease and I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the black tie he discarded. I took off my panties, leaving my dress and the garter belt on. 

 Jungkook naked was a sight i could never tire off and I watched as he climbed into the bed, lying down in the center, legs splayed slightly and hands by his side. 

“Bring your wrists together up over your head” I said quickly and he moved his wrists up , letting me tie them to the head board with his tie as i sat straddled on his chest. I was wet, sopping wet and I felt the trail of dampness I left on his rock hard abs. 

“I’m gonna sit on your face and you’re gonna make me cum. And then , I’m gonna ride you .” I whispered. 

“Fuck.” 

“That’s the plan.”

I scooted forward, resting one knee close to either shoulder before gripping the head board with one hand and the hair on top of his head with the other. Tugging him closer, I lowered my pussy onto his mouth, groaning when i felt soft pressure of his tongue against my center, licking tentatively. 

Jungkook knew what he was doing, and he licked into me with practiced ease tongue slipping into my slit, curling against the walls, before tracing circles around my clit. He used his lips to suckled on the hardened nub , following it up with quick little licks and i slipped a hand between my legs, stuffing three fingers into my cunt to get myself off faster. 

“Oh...fuck... I want... “ I could feel myself shaking and he sped up his movement, licking my lit in quick little strokes and my orgasm hit me like a wave, drowning me in pleasure. I scooted down before losing my strength, collapsing on top of him. The orgasm having knocked me right out of my headspace. I was trembling and shaking, lethargic and completely out of it. 

”Baby...you okay?” Jungkook’s concerned voice came from above and I whimpered. 

“I’m... I’m sorry.... I’m so tired... I...” 

“Don’t worry baby .. i got you. “

I heard the sound of wood splintering and blinked, glancing up. Jungkook had tugged his hands free from the restraint, breaking the headboard in the process. 

I gawked at the scene in disbelief. 

“Did you just....?”

He grabbed the hem of my dress, ripping it up and off me quickly. 

“Fuck..... want to pound you into the fucking mattress my little princess... Such a little tiger aren’t you kitten... so fierce and hot... i loved it baby...you were so good to me ...made me feel so fucking good...” He maneuvered me onto my back and i felt myself blushing at the praise, face heating up as i gripped his shoulders. 

He grabbed the back of my thigh, spreading my legs before lining himself up against my pussy. 

“Fuck...” He slid right in , knocking the breath out of me and i clung to him, whimpering as he pounded into me, hips working so fact I was sure I was going to have trouble walking for a week after this. 

I could feel my orgasm build from the sheer intensity of the thrusts, the hard thick length of his cock pounding into my cunt till i felt swollen and bruised and tender and when it finally tore through me , i was drooling a little, eyes damp with tears and fingers numb from gripping him too hard. 

Jungkook fucked me through the orgasm and chased his own each push of his hips leaving me battered and I bit my lips to stay conscious . When he finally stilled, his cock throbbing as he came for the second time, filling my insides with the wet warmth of his cum, I felt myself shake like a leaf caught in a  storm, my entire body ice cold and trembling. A thin layer of sweat coated my body and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t recover from this for a really long time

“My pretty pretty queen....” He whispered , pressing kisses all over my face as he hugged me closer and I mewled at the warmth of him. 

“Don’t leave me .” i whispered, unable to fight the tug of sleep and exhaustion. 

“I’m right here, baby.” His voice was soothing against my ear as he held me closer. 

Maybe I could have him after all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : okay. well. that happened.  if you don’t give me feedback this will be the last smut scene. 

jk

but please do give me feedback . i love hearing from you guys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist. : @ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove@bunniechoon  @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine    @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae@nikkiordonez12 

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@danietoww04​

[herherteartear]

blanket kick

précis— Peter's not the suave man he would hope to be in front of his crush. instead, he's a blushing mess that haunts his memories and causes him to take out his frustrations on his blanket. luckily, you prefer cherry cheeks over smooth lines any day.

pairing— Peter Parker x enhanced!maximoff!reader

a/n— this is my first standalone written story and my first time writing for marvel! i hope you guys enjoy thisss<3 i'm also open to creating drabbles to continue this if anyone's interested????! pls enjoy and pls comment and let me know ur thoughts!!!

there are many ways to describe Peter Parker, but none could ever wholly capture the true essence of the boy

besides the obvious stuff,, his intelligence , his insanely good looks , his teenage awkwardness,,

it was a hard feat to string along words to describe the way he carries himself , the way he is with others , the way his heart loves with the same ability a sponge soaks up water and soap

Peter's had crushes before

perhaps more than he'd like to admit

(can't blame the boy, who gave Ty Lee the right be that cute!?)

but when he sees her, his heart begins to swell and suddenly, he forgets how to breathe..

or how to think... talk. y'know normal human stuff

in all honesty, Peter has tried his absolute hardest to block out their first meeting from his memories

he doesn't regret meeting her, of course not! never would he even repent that embarrassingly wonderful day

he only wishes it would've gone a little differently

let's set the scene, shall we?

the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a Carolina blue, the clouds were the prettiest porcelain color, rimmed with lace

Peter was riding in an awfully silent car that Happy was driving to the airport. despite being terrified of what's to come,, the fight Mr. Stark had recruited him for,, the boy was thoroughly enjoying this adventure.

the car came to a stop, which did little for Peter's nerves. he gathered his courage before stepping out, eyes squinting at the brightness of the yellow sun. once his eyes adjusted, they landed on the prettiest head of hair he had ever seen

(although he did think the same for Hermione Granger)

Peter had never been on a plane before that day. but even then, his sparkling eyes stayed trained on her,, completely ignoring the brilliant private jet behind her

"oh? Happy, i thought it was just us?" her voice made Peter's ears burn. he swallowed thickly. you blinked at Peter, curious but also intrigued , you smiled.

to which Peter choked. on air. your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"a-are you okay?"

"god, kid, get ahold of yourself."

"i-i'm okay! it's– i'm– i'm fine!" Peter quickly stuttered out.

"well, Yn, this is– uh,, what's your name again?" Happy turned towards the boy who's cheeks were now redder than a firetruck.

"oh! i'm Peter– Peter Parker. it's nice to meet you- not that i don't know you. well i don't, y'know not personally. but like from the news.. not that i believe the news! they're awful to you, but i mean i guess i do sometimes– but never about what they say about you–"

"i'm Yn Maximoff. it's nice to meet you too, Peter." you cut him off before Happy strangled the cute boy. you had an amused smile

he was cute

finally getting on the plane, Peter had hoped he would be able to sit far away from you and wallow in his embarrassment,

maybe sneak a glance or two.. imagine a couple of scenarios where he wasn't a doofus,

but that's not quite what happened.

after witnessing just how much the new kids was able to ramble,, Happy was not about to spend a whole ass plane ride remotely close to him

so he took it upon himself to make the kiddies sit together.. much to Peter's dismay.

like!!? did Happy not see how Peter crashed and burned in font of you?!

you, on the other hand,, had the opposite reaction.

being the youngest avenger, you don't get to be around people your age too much,, which isn't something you're complaining about!!

you totally made the decision to be an avenger and you happily welcomed the consequences..

that didn't mean you didn't get lonely at times. especially now with the accords and the team breaking up., things got a whole lot more lonely

your sister, Wanda, had made her choice to leave the compound. you completely understood why, but a part of you had hoped she would've taken you with her

although, staying at the compound did ensure your safety.

it was a weird time for the avenger's , it felt wrong for you to say some of your teammates were criminals

it left a sour taste in your mouth

you glanced from the window seat to see Peter nervously wringing his fingers. you frowned.

"are you okay?" you asked, gently. Peter's eyes widened and his heart jumped to his throat. he wanted to say something, something cool or aloof, something that would make up for his ranting earlier

"i've never been on a plane before." Peter squeaked out. he dropped his shoulders, rolling his eyes at himself. that was the highest pitch he had ever heard his voice. you took in his clearly anxious posture.

"lets switch seats? maybe looking out the window will help you." you stated. before Peter could quickly shake his head, because how rude would it be of him to take your seat?, you were already stood up.

"oh god!" Peter breathed. he quickly shifted over to the seat you once occupied. he wanted to put up more of a fight, but the way you were swaying due to the turbulence, made his palms sweat in fear for your safety.

"you, like, swing from buildings and stuff, right?" you asked. he turned to you with a nod. "are you afraid of heights? or do you just not like planes?"

oh god. oh. no. you thought– you thought he was scared of being on the plane. Peter wanted to shrink in a hole and hide. you probably thought he was such a baby! that he could handle swinging from hundreds of feet in the air, but a plane is where he drew the line?

but what else is he supposed to say? 'oh, no! it's not the plane I'm scared of. it's just your beautiful smile and the way you smell like cocoa that gets me sweating'

wtf.

that was so wrong in so many ways.

"um, no, no. i'm okay, just– just a little nervous, is all." Peter tried to force out a chuckle. but it come out more like a cough. you mouth formed an 'o.'

"ohh, okay." you paused before your eyes lit up. "how about we play a game? to distract you?"

"o– okay.."

"can you talk with spiders?" Peter lifted his eyes from looking at his hands hovering above yours,; he let out a much more relaxed laugh than earlier.

you took advantage of his distraction to swiftly bring your palm from underneath his and slap the top of Peter's hand. he jumped.

"ouch!" he playfully pouted. you eyes glanced down at his lips. you giggled nervously. your hand went to hover over his, him now being the one to do the slapping. "of course i can't talk to spiders! i– i feel like i should probably be able to shape-shift into a spider in order for that to happen, y'know?"

you nodded thoughtfully. "that's true.. you didn't hear this from me, but i heard there's an Ant-Man going around." Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

"no way! that's crazy! does he like turn into an ant?" you bumped his hand with yours in order to get his attention back to the game. his hand burned at the feeling

"i don't know-" you said in a singsong tone. "it's just what's being said around the compound." you quickly slid your hands to avoid Peter's attack. he huffed.

"how are you so good at this?" he knitted his eyebrows to focus on how to attack quickly without hurting you.

"it's a game i used to play with my brother and sister." you answered. Peter finally took his chance to slap your hands, to which you squealed excitedly as you had tried to move in time. Peter and you fell into a fit of giggles.

you both leaned against your seats, still facing each other. your hands fell on top of Peter's.

the brown haired boy quickly slid his hand out from under yours, not because he didn't enjoy the contact, but because he was worried you'd feel how clammy his hands were

you frowned slightly at the loss of contact.

"a– are we really fighting your sister?" Peter wondered out loud, without a second thought.

you shifted uncomfortably. Peter quickly noticed; his heart sped up and he mentally scolded himself for being so inconsiderate.

"not because i think she's evil! i mean,, i know that's what the news says.. but they also think Spider-Man's like thirty. and i'm not thirty! its just everything's crazy right now.. with the accords., i can't even imagine how you're feeling! probably terrible.. oh, g od wait, not terrible, i'm s–"

you had been watching with an endearing look in your eye. you had come to find that you enjoy watching Peter ramble.

his eyes would become unsettled and shaky, his body would begin to become more and more animated, but his voice

gosh, his voice was something you wanted to listen to for the rest of your life

but you could tell he was getting more and more skittish. so you put him out of his misery

"terrible probably wouldn't be my go-to word, it's up there though.. at least i got to meet you." you smiled softly.

Peter's eyes ran over your soft features. night had fallen, so the windows of the plan displayed an almost picturesque display of the moon and stars. the light hue of color the moon provided painted your face in a way that clouded Peter's thoughts.

with your comment of being grateful to have met him, Peter wasn't in control of his mouth for much longer.

"so pretty." he breathed. both of you guys froze.

Peter's face quickly morphed from love-sick to mortified. you blushed violently.

deciding you didn't want Peter to fall into another rant-like apology (because if you got to listen to him talk for that long in this setting, you might just drop the 'L' word) , you said,

"let's watch a movie?"

the two of you sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but being too hyper aware of their thighs pressed together and brushing hands to actually pay attention

upon arrival, both teenagers walked off the plane, sleep deprived , but with thumping hearts and dazed grins.

Peter threw himself on his hotel bed that night,, hiding under the covers

his thoughts replayed your interaction over and over (and over and over) in his head

the boy shoved his head, face first, into the stiff hotel pillow and let out a muffled groan

Peter flipped himself over, stared at the ceiling, before remembering his spouts of unnecessarily long explanations

he thrashed his body, kicking his poor blanket in frustration but most of all, out of embarrassment

he calmed himself down once his memories refreshed themselves over your gentle giggles and how soft your hands were

Peter fell asleep with cherry red cheeks and a blissful grin.

because despite those small mess ups, despite the futile way he beat his covers in humiliation, Peter treasures that day like no other.

[smortbokuto]

Guilt.

warnings: my shit writing, fluff?? angst to the fucking bones, major character death, mentions of death, implied cheating.

pairings: ushijima x oikawa, iwaizumi x oikawa.

a/n: enjoy my trash <3

summary: realizations always hits in the end yet hits hard. Oikawa regrets his actions and will keep regretting for his whole life..

word count: 3.6k

Sequel

❛19th January, 2023.❜

Key rattled in the keyhole as he turned them open, the voice a bit to loud for the mood. creaking the door open of his once shared apartment, with him. putting down the umbrella, which had frozen dews decorating its covers, he raided the area with tired eyes.

The windows, dusty and tainted, allowing slight light to bleed into the room, the dusty floor, marked with different stains, being illuminated. the couches covered with a pale cloth, preventing them from getting dirty. the shelf in the other corner were properly visible with spider webs all over. the rug, that was once sparkling clean now looked like had hardened mud and slit all over.

taking off his overcoat and hooking it over the rusty hooks embedded over the wall with torn off wallpapers just adjacent to the entry. nostalgia had hit him like a boulder falling over something much smaller and frail, completely crushing him as he saw all the unevenly hanging frames with them. smiling. happy.

why, why? why. why?! why??

padding into the room he scrunched his nose in frustration at the creaking sound of the wooden flooring. god, he was so used to the marble ones now. this was so annoying. so weird.

why was he even here? ah, in a week new residents will being coming here to start a new life. just like how they both had started 6 years ago...

'hope they don't end up like me' he made a mental note to wish the new family his best wishes for their journey they were going to go on.

sighing he strode towards the shelf. the lights flickered for a tad bit longer than they were supposed to. smoothly he started to pick up all the frames, empty, with photos (memories), or broken, and tossed them into the box he had brought along. what of he left them here? will the new family know about his sins of the past? he doesn't know.

moving further inside he kept picking up all the small items of misery (memories) and tossing them into the box. he wished them to burn to ashes. Oikawa just couldn't stand the pictures, the letters, the small items, gifts, souvenirs he had received by Iwaizumi in the past. with a white face he kept collecting all the stuff from room to room in a way to wipe away the remnants of the life they both had created.

cursing mentally as he stood in front of the last room, bedroom. a place where they shared everything, emotions, bodies, love, everything. entering the room he took a deep breath, eyes tight shut as he felt a suffocating gust hit his face. his breath hitched in his throat as he saw an all too familiar room. he could see his 'wasted' years in this room, doing everything and anything.

he worked upon collecting all the stuff he wanted to get rid of. he wanted to get rid of his existence. he was so close to it. he could start a new life. a free one. just a bit of fuel and a spark of flame.

after what felt like ages he felt content with the filled boxes with all the soon to be burned memories.

free? free. free!

a satisfied breath left his lungs, turning into a hazy white puff as it mixed into the chilly atmosphere of the room. the sun had already gone down with the rise of a crescent moon hanging in the sky with gloomy grey clouds. an indication to a snowy day that comes along.

snow?

his heart pang in the traps of his ribs at the thought.

┊a smiled crept on the shorter male's face, face flushed in soft hues of pink as he scrambled out from the warmth of the bed, dragging his feet towards the glass window that were draped with soft white silk curtains.

"Toru, wake up." he had called out to the sleeping male, curled up in the bed who just groaned at the call of his name.

"what is it?" voice raspy, he drawled out.

"it snowed! its so pretty outside." he chided, his morning voice heavy yet a hint of excitement laced with it. ┊

snow. his favorite time of the season. Iwaizumi's happy season.

clicking his tongue, that had the room echo with the voice he tried to forget the small memory he reminisced just now. distracting himself he looked around the room for the last time.

'nothing should be left behind..'

nodding to himself he stood up from the bed edge he had been sitting, leaving the room. once and for all.

free.

free?

his leg hit the nightside stand, the dusty lamp disbalancing and falling down. ignoring he broken pieces he picked up the head of the lamp to keep it back only for his eyes to get stuck at the small opening of the drawer.

nope.

opening the drawer slowly his eyes widened at the slightly stained hardcover diary comfortably lying caged in there.

he knows. he knows too well to not reach for it. to not open it. to not trace the pages with the tips of his fingers. to not read the date entry.

yet, he did it.

❝7th December, 2018.

today it snowed. it looked so ethereal outside. today is special for me. its the first time it snowed while my living with Toru. I wish to see more days like these with him.

-Hajime.❞

The first entry of the page.

"tsk, what's the point to write it down?" the brunette vocalized his thoughts. the thought of writing something so trivial sounded so stupid. why would he even to take the pain to write it all?

and so he flipped to the next page.

smoothing out the page he hummed as he felt Iwaizumi's clear writing under the cold touch of his fingers. so selfish.

he read all the pages. all the dates. all the events.

their first slow dance together in the dim living room on a summer evening, their first time on a rainy night, their first fight on a mid autumn season and how Hajime wished to fix it as soon as possible. everything was there in it.

it was always about them. never him alone. oikawa was always a spotlight.

humming in satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, he will be free. glad at the fact that iwaizumi didn't hold a grudge against him in any of these small snippets of life jotted down neatly in a captive of pale pages and hard covers.

pages fluttered as he flipped to another page. his brows furrowing as he found the page blank.

flip. then another and another and another. all of them were blank. pale and empty. his heart clenched and stung at the empty pages. it felt like a void of emotions. not his emotions but his long ago lovers'.

he flipped again, pupils dilating slightly as he saw a new date entry. but his stomach churned as he read the date.

❛11th September, 2020.❜

A whole year? from writing everyday, why was there a pause of a whole year? he flipped back to the previous empty pages. the pages weren't torn then why a year gap?

'unusual..'

but he shook away the feeling and flipped back to the new entry that he was yet to read.

❝I miss him... he has been working so much. i am happy that he is doing something he loves but its been long since we had done anything like we used to do...❞

a rush of guilt travelled through the span of his veins. he had fell out of love weeks before this new entry. but- did Iwaizumi knew about this fact?

┊8th July, 2020,

"will you tell him about us?" a gruff voice spoke, lying on the same comfort of bed that oikawa shared with iwaizumi. the respective owner of the voice stared up at the naked form of the brunette who was indulging himself in smoking and puffing out his lungs. a try to erase out the smell of sex? maybe.

"not yet..." oikawa slurred out as he puffed another heavy thick smoke into the traps of the four walled room "..he is too blind in love to even think about me doing such thing."

"you are not being fair with him." the voice spoke again after silence covered over the room.

"listen," he was pissed. oikawa was pissed at the accusation. he knew it was right, the accusation but he didn't want to accept that. the fact that he had fell out of love. "it's literally my life and my lover, i don't need your opinion about it, Ushijima."┊

guilt filled his system at the thought about how sick and vile his move was against someone who loved him unconditionally.

if only he had tried harder. harder to be a better person, a better partner and a better human. but he didn't. pathetic.

feeling the guilt pump up in him he flipped the page again. empty, blank, pale pages. again.

❝17th November, 2020.

Its still the same... he returns late home. we don't eat our meals together, our talks are short and have no emotions that it used to carry. i miss it. i miss it all. i will wait.❞

"why? what the fuck are you trying to do here. Hajime? are you trying to give me a guilt trip?" he voiced his deafening thoughts. how selfish of Iwaizumi to take such a step against him. his own lover.

"its working. so stop..." his voice wavered. was he really qualified enough to be labeled as a 'lover' for Hajime? after what all he had done to the other man he deserved it.

"stop. I don't deserve it." he does. he does deserve it. he knows it too well.

he flipped. then flipped. sobs raked his body as he read all the different dates all throughout the winter season of that dreaded years, 2020. he read Iwaizumi's thought, insecurities on maybe he was not good enough for Oikawa and how maybe he was done with him but staying with him out of pity.

He flipped to the page where an all too familiar date was jotted down. He remembers everything. every action he had taken that might have ruined iwaizumi bit by bit.

┊9th April, 2021.

the keys jingled as they clashed with the glass key holder in the porch area. the brunette ran his fingers through his hair and sighed out tiredly. 'work' was exhausting.

"hey." a low voice greeted him at the end of the hallway.

"hi, have you eaten?" oikawa replied back as fast as possible not wanting to hear any questions from the man standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"he shorted man shook his head. "i was waiting for you."

"i was out with my friend after practice, we have already eaten. you should eat too." he didn't know the heaviness of the words he had thrown on the other male.

"oh, that's fine." Iwaizumi smiled as he tried to take in and digest whatever was thrown over him by the taller male. "by the way, i got a present for you. it's kept in the bedroom."

"present for what? what's the occasion?" oikawa was quick to whip his head to the direction of the other male, who had his back turned at him as he fumbled around the kitchen.

there was a silence, an awkward and a heavy one.

Oikawa, now anxious, took a step forward "hey, ushijim- Hajime, what's the present for?" shit. shit for fuck sake he messed up.

"hm? what?" displaying an act of not catching he turned to face oikawa, the soft smile never faltering his features.

oikawa was quick to repeat the question. to which iwaizumi casually told him it was their anniversary.

"it's okay, you have been working a lot." he had stated.┊

maybe if Oikawa was true to the man. maybe if he had tried harder to love him more and in a correct manner he wouldn't be reading this. maybe if he had given iwaizumi what he had deserved.

❝9th April, 2021.

oh, i was right... it hurts to know i was not good enough but maybe i deserved it. i hope he is happy with this other guy he is with.❞

his heart dropped to his stomach. why was he accepting that? he knew when he had uttered out that other mans' name then why didn't he confront? why did he stay quiet? why didn't he ask him to leave?

why? why? why? why?!

and then no answer to these why's.

his body went numb at how blindly Iwaizumi stood there for him even knowing he was an option. second one.

flip.

flip.

flip.

he sobbed more as he kept tuning the pages. few pale blank empty and few with dates and entries were he was not good enough for oikawa and he could have been better.

"Its not your fault. its not. stop!" finally breaking down he sobbed into the diary, staining the pages with his tears.

❝19th July, 2021.

i was... diagnosed. glioblastoma (GBM). it was undiagnosed all this time and... how will i tell this to Toru?❞

"why?! why are you still thinking about me??? you were-" too much. thats the right word for what he was feeling at the moment. how could he still love him and think about him even though he was practically dying? just why?

all the memories flooded in. all the years of time they took to build a loving relationship only for oikawa to burn it down in one day, over a fucked up reason.

it could have been so easy if iwaizumi had confronted and cut ties then and there only. he was being selfish.

there was a strong urge to just burn the diary there only and act like it all never happened. it was so easy to do it.

but,

can he really do it?

no, he is ought to drown in all the pending guilt and regrets that had been filling up all his holes, draining into his system till it was overflowing. he has to suffer.

he flipped yet another page.

❝27th August, 2021.

i have regrets. i don't want to carry them with me to a new journey. I wanted to love oikawa the way he deserved. i wanted to be him only. its selfish, i know. i was supposed to propose him on our anniversary. i was supposed to care for him and grow old and gray with him. it was all about him. it will always be about him. i love you Toru... i always will. i will be leaving soon. i want to watch you from the sidelines but i can't, not anymore. i will look at you and cheer for you still. be happy, okay?❞

was this really how it was supposed to end?

"why? why didn't you ever tell me about this?" his breath came out ragged and labored. it didn't matter right now.

❝16th September, 2021.

i still love you but i can't burden you with what i am going through not when you are finally happy. i happy that you can confine in someone now. i love you and i always will.❞

those were just mere words written over dead pages by someone that didn't exist. not anymore. then why was it affecting so much? why did it feel like all the words were the boulders that kept stacking on and on over Oikawa's lean body?

there were so many whys and no one to answer...

his last memory flashed before his red puffy eyes.

┊18th September, 2021.

the balls smashed hard against the gym floors. sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

hair hanging over his forehead oikawa flopped down on the floor. leaning back on one arm as he sipped harshly through his bottle. he let out a satisfied hum as his thirst was satiated only to stop mid tracks as he heard a muffled vibration coming from his bag flopped beside him.

rummaging and fishing the phone out as easy as any other task but when he saw the familiar number flash he was hesitant. nonetheless he answered only for his throat to go parch at the not so familiar voice reporting something he could never imagine of.

"you were on Mr. Iwaizumi's contact. he is in emergency right now. he had collapsed during his regular visit here so please come here as soon as possible." the line was dead then.

hastily packing his stuff he ran out the doors and reached his car. his mind running miles per hour. questions filling his head up to a level where it was hard to breathe.

reaching there he grimaced as the smell of countless death and sterile filled his senses.

"are you Mr. Oikawa?" the voice came up from behind as he was filling up his entry at the reception. whipping his head back he met a man, much older than him, in white coat who looked concerned and... sorry?

"yes. yes i am. what happened?!" he trailed behind the doctor like any lost puppy would do with a stranger who was friendly enough to pet it only to get kicked in the guts.

the doctor stopped after few rooms passed. sighing he removed his glasses and hung them over his chest pockets giving it a company with two pens that were sitting comfortably in it. "he is, uh, critical. he used to come here for treatment due to his frequent headaches. today was different. he collapsed while we were going through some tests. looking into it, there are multiple organ failure right now. not much is left for him." it felt like the world has come to an end. the floor beneath hem felt like it had moved, eating him alive.

pushing past the doctor he entered the room. eyes blowing up at the view he was welcomed to. a man, so strong and healthy, tied to all sorts of machines, a tube, a mere fucking tube, helping him breathe.

"Ha- Hajime...." he could only whisper out softly. but only to response.

he looked so pale, so lifeless, his heart barely even doing its only job. it was cold to touch him, the normal warmth was not there anymore. even after trying to warm up his hand he couldn't bring the missing warmth back again. not anymore.

"please- please tell me what happened.."

there was a heavy silent. a deafening one. nothing was audible other than the faint beeps and slowed breathing of the man on the cold bed of the hospital.

he was not going to leave like this. he is not that pathetic and weak to just die on his lover. not before he could tell him he loved him and he always will. no matter what.

but?

he can't speak.

now what? love is something that doesn't need to be conveyed through words.

his cold thumb brushed over the warm knuckles of the man standing beside him. he looked like he was falling apart. oikawa's brown warm gaze widened as he looked down at iwaizumi. he looked like he was taking his last breath. he looked like he was ready to start a new journey. he looked happy. his eyes showed nothing but love. it kept showing love as his eyes dilated and stilled. the touch still reflected love even if it went limp and cold.┊

another sob. then another and another and another. he sobbed there. curling into himself. all the tears tasted like guilt and regret. none of them were salty.

"why did you tell the doc to not tell me about the disease???" he cried out. his lungs burned. they begged him to breathe but he couldn't.

regrets were there. guilt was there.

"i am sorry i was so selfish."

he thought he could be free of them. he was tied down. forever. no matter what.

maybe if he loved him properly. maybe if he loved him the way he deserved.

maybe if he loved the man named Iwaizumi Hajime.

too late.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//the second spring.  miya atsumu//

Warnings: there’s two little sex jokes

Word Count: 1.4K

Notes: atsumu is so cute b y e 

PART I. II. III. IV.

The poor boy was completely and utterly miserable.  He had been couch ridden for days, shuffling around his tiny apartment in sweatpants, a redness reminiscent of Rudolph from the amount of times he had blown his nose in a tissue.  His voice was nasally and his words were interrupted by chains of sneezes as he battled through the one thing that made early spring unbearable: flu season.

You had seen the setter taken down a peg or two during your time together over the past year.  You had watched the defeat sink into his eyes everytime he lost an argument with his brother or with Sakusa.  You knew that sulking posture that accompanied him whenever a serve didn’t go how he planned.  But, never had you seen him like this.  

His 4 a.m. text message simply asking you to come over was met with teasing remarks, telling him that if he wanted to get off so bad, he just had to say so.  Yet, when you arrived, rather than being greeted with hungry kisses, your boyfriend opened the door looking like the human incarnation of death itself.  A woeful expression that had his mouth tugging down into a deeply set frown and tissue bunched up in his hand that he used to wipe the snot running from his nose every few seconds pulled together his entire ensemble.  

Atsumu really did try to hug you upon your arrival, but a string of coughs washed over him, leaving him to just whine in misery as he laid his head against your shoulder, taking comfort in the way that your hands rubbed soothing circles against his back.  “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, lacing his arms around your waist.

You laugh lightly, letting one of your hands reach up into his hair.  “I can tell, ‘mu.  Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You hum, gently pulling his away from you so you can lay your hand against his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.  “Come on, why don’t we go lay down?  You’re pretty hot.”

He scoffs, letting you pull him back down the hallway towards his bedroom.  “If you wanted to get off that bad, all you had to do was ask,” he teases, using your previous words against you.  Even overcome with a fever, he still had the energy to put on that gentle smirk that carried that tiny glint of mischief up into his eyes, but whatever suave sense of seduction he thought he was oozing was completely ruined as a second round of coughs took hold of him. 

Atsumu let you help him slowly shuffle the rest of the way to his bed, gingerly laying down on top of the sheets.   You pull one of his blankets up around his body, leaning over him to brush your thumb across his cheek, a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead.  “Do you need anything or do you just want to try and get some sleep?”

He just looked up at you tired brown eyes, reaching out towards your body to pull you into his arms.  “Will you just stay here?” He muttered, pushing a piece of hair from your face.

“Of course, ‘mu.  I can stay as long as you need me to, but you need to try to sleep.  You’re going to feel better if you rest.”

“What if you never left,” he continued, his arms tightening their hold around you, scared that his questions might scare you away, because, in truth, a 4 a.m. text message that begged you to come over and help him feel less miserable was not the start to this conversation that he had ever anticipated. But, you’re light teasing that had only been followed with a, “i’ll see you in 10 mu” had made his chest swell and all of the tension seemed to leave his body at the affirmation that you were coming, that you were going to be there for him all because he asked you to be.  He wasn’t sure why it had taken him by such surprise or why it had made him so happy to know that you were going to be right by his side in only a matter of short minutes, but there was no denying the tiny smile that pulled at his mouth.  

You had been there through everything with him over the last year, from the first spring to the second, you had been right by his side, his number one fan in the stands, his biggest supporter on and off the court.  The one person who could bring a smile to his face over the silliest things and the one who could have him clutching his sides in laughter during late night conversations where the only light illuminating you was the television playing reruns of some sitcom that you both had seen too many times.  Miya Atsumu was completely and hopelessly in love with you.  He might’ve been sick and he might not have been thinking perfectly clearly, but there was one thing that he knew and one thing that he was never going to forget.  “I love you and I don’t want you to leave ever again,” Atsumu stated simply, staring into your face, barely visible in the darkness of the night.  

“Baby, I already told you that I would stay as long as you needed me to, okay?  I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath, pausing only to release a few heavy coughs into his arm.  “What if you lived here?  With me?”

You smiled down at him, pushing his hair away from his forehead that had started to bead with little droplets of sweat as his fever continued to set in.  “Atsumu, I think your fever is getting to you.  You’re not thinking straight right now.”

His brows furrowed together and a cute pout settled onto his lips.  “You don’t want to live with me?”

“No, that’s not it, ‘mu.  I do want to live with you but-”

“Then do it.  Come live with me.”  His voice was hoarse, worn and sore from all of his never-ending coughing fits.  “And when you get sick, you won’t have to text me to come over, because I’ll already be here.”

You hum a little, cupping his face in your hands.  “Atsumu, I just don’t want you to ask something that you’re going to regret, but if you really want me to move in then I-”

“I really want you to move in.  Please, Y/N.  I’ve never been more sure of anything.  The fact that you’re here right now, in the middle of the night, is the only reassurance I could need.”

And it was true too.  Atsumu had been in relationships before, but none of them had this same level of careful and attentive energy being passed between two people.  It was you coming over in the middle of the night to check on him.  It was him leaving volleyball practice early because you called him panicking because there was a massive spider crawling around your kitchen.  It was you knowing that he always does his laundry on Thursdays and bringing him some post-laundry snacks.  It was him remembering your drink of choice at the coffee shop downtown.  Everything that you did for him and everything that  he did for you made it so painfully obvious that this was something that he wanted to pursue further.  He wanted to take one step further into the madness that came with being in love.  

Springs come with first kisses and they come with warm embraces as a young couple finally takes the plunge into a new chapter of their relationship.  It’s accompanied by coughing and runny noses, bodies aching and chills being too much to ignore.  There are soft kisses shared in the darkness of bedrooms, moonlight barely casting glows on a pair of flames that flickered beautifully on their own, but are now burning more intensely as they merge together, lips pressed into one other, not even bothering to worry about the germs and the now unavoidable flu.  All because of one simple answer that was whispered so beautifully and tantalizingly in his ear. 

“Yes.”

{Taglist: @nicka-nell​ @moncymonce​ @cherryonigiri​ (since you like my atsumu pieces ;-;}

[bellemorte180]

If I Die Before I Wake: Final Chapter

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could take the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

Chapter Six

Mystic Falls

April 2010

“Nik.” Klaus froze, his crushing grip on Bonnie's neck loosened. His eyes snapped towards Caroline and saw that she was still lying on the table but her hand was raised and pressed to her head as though she was trying to massage away a fierce migraine. All eyes were trained on her, none of them believing what they were seeing. Caroline was awake. “Niklaus.”

In an instant, Klaus was by her side. Elena ran to Bonnie and knelt on the ground with her gasping friend. Yet, no one paid them mind for they all watched Klaus and Caroline. He placed his hands on her cheeks and gazed into her eyes. Her wide open eyes; for the first time in one hundred and forty six years he saw the pale blue of her pupils and it caused the dam inside of him to break. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Caroline reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

“You cut your hair.” Klaus gave a humorless laugh and pulled Caroline to him; holding her tightly against his chest. He marveled in the feel of her in his arms. The feel of her alive and welcoming was Valhalla; a phrase he had not thought of in nearly a millennia. Caroline placed her hands on his shoulders and her nails dug into his skin slightly. Her face was pressed against his neck and Klaus could feel her hot breath. “I'm thirsty. So thirsty.”

Suddenly, there was a frenzy of movement. Rebekah launched herself from one side of the room to the other and grabbed the frozen boy, compelling him with the freedom to move. She dragged him towards Klaus and Caroline, shoving the boy at their feet. Klaus shifted and placed Caroline on his lap as she reached down and grabbed the boy. Black veins appeared under her eyes in the same moment that her fangs dropped down. The boy screamed and fought, almost pushing her away because her strength was still weak. Marcel snapped into action, pulling himself from his knelt position and held the boy still. Klaus pet Caroline's hair, whispering sweet words as she drained the boy.

The rest just watched. Stefan standing still, his sorrowful eyes taking in the scene around them and the smell of human blood threatening his monster to come and play. Elena and Bonnie still on the ground, the cries of the teenaged boy, one that seemed familiar, haunted them. Kol watched on with a smile, sharing a look with Rebekah-both thinking that their family was complete. Elijah remained motionless, whispering to Freya; making plans. Damon's body, whose neck hadn't completely repaired itself, remained motionless.

“Who was it? Who is she draining?” Bonnie asked in a hushed whisper, she didn't see who it was that Rebekah dragged in, too focused on the task she was about to complete. Her voice was hoarse from Klaus's grip. Blood ran from her nose and she wiped it away. She always bled when she did a spell that was too strong for her. Freya's magic helped but it still took a toll out of Bonnie and she knew that she was going to be down for awhile.

“Tyler Lockwood.” Once Caroline was done with Tyler's blood, she dropped his dead body to the ground with a harsh thud. His eyes were still open and Caroline licked the blood off her fingers. Klaus kissed the top of her head, not even sparing a glance at the boy. Marcel dragged the body to the side and stood beside Rebekah, both with wide grins on their lips. Caroline slid from table and the rest took in her appearance. She was still wearing the white pantaloons that she had the night she succumbed to the curse. The corset was still tight around her waist. Her hair was a mess and blood ran down her chin, staining the white fabric of her clothing; yet Klaus looked at her as though he had never seen anything so beautiful in the millennia he had been alive. Caroline took a few steps and stumbled slightly. Klaus caught her easily and Marcel was by her side in an instant. Neither willing to let her go just yet.

“My son.” Caroline placed her hands on Marcel's cheeks and leaned in to kiss his forehead. She smiled at him, giving him a warm gaze. Her eyes flickered upwards to see Rebekah vibrating with happiness and tears streaming down her eyes. Caroline held out her arms and Rebekah flashed into them, hugging her close. Both Elijah and Kol were by them in an instant, with Freya trailing slowly behind. Once she broke away from Rebekah, Kol scooped her up and spun her.

“Kol!” Klaus hissed as the younger brother put Caroline back on the floor. Caroline laughed and it echoed around them; a laugh that was joyful and warm, a laugh that brought the entire room to ease. Once her feet touched the hard wood floor again, her legs gave out slightly for a second time but Klaus caught her easily. It would be some time before Caroline would be able to gain her full strength back. Feeling his arms around her, Caroline melted at his touch. She looked at him and gave him a small smile. Klaus pulled her tighter and they all knew that Klaus would not let her out of his sight again.

“Welcome home Caroline.” Elijah stepped closed and kissed the top of her head. Klaus gave a small rumble in his chest, growling at his brother. Caroline laughed again. The growling ceased and Klaus's shoulders relaxed slightly. Elijah held out his arm to Freya who stepped closer. “May I introduce our sister Freya.”

Caroline took in the other woman, who she quickly realized was a witch, with a confused look. She cocked her head towards Klaus and he nodded. If her husband accepted the woman then Caroline knew that this Freya was fine but it was all confusing to her. Esther had once told her a story of Freya, the eldest of the Mikaelson children, and how she had died long ago.

“Freya was the one who discovered the ins and out of the spell that put you under and how to break it.” Kol smiled and put his arms around Freya, who in return rolled her eyes. Caroline saw and couldn't help but smile at her. “And I for one will take credit for it because I'm the one that discovered she was still alive and brought her into the family fold.”

“Still humble I see.”

“Always Darling.”

“Kol.” Klaus hissed. He always found it irritating how Kol spoke to his wife. However, Caroline just laughed and patted his cheek patiently. Settling into Klaus's arms, her eyes darted around and look in the scene of destruction in the room. Her head cocked and she stepped away slightly. Klaus didn't let her go far and Caroline just laced her fingers with his, pulling him behind her. For the first time she realized how different everything was. Her eyes fell upon the two girls on the ground. Caroline flashed to them and bent down. Her eyes focused upon Elena and she could hear the human heart beat in her chest.

“Another one?” Caroline took her in and for a moment, she could see Tatia peering through those brown eyes. The black veins appeared under her eyes and both Elena and Bonnie slowly began to back away. Caroline was always one for control and she mastered the urge to rip Elena's throat out quickly. She saw that both girls were dressed in what would be considered men's clothing. Once again, everything was different. “What year is it?” Neither of the girls answered and Klaus placed a hand on her shoulder. “Answer me!”

“2010.” Bonnie whispered and Caroline could feel Klaus's grip tighten. She stood and turned in her husband's arms. She placed her hands on his face. Her thumbs traced his cheek bones and her eyes pouring her entire soul into his. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him softly. Klaus's eyes fluttered shut and he basked in having her in his arms. There were a thousand emotions that flashed across Klaus's face; love, bliss, happiness, pain, misery and fury all at once. Caroline saw them all and the rest stilled at the change in the atmosphere.

“A hundred and forty six years, you've been alone.” Caroline and Klaus held their hands together, placing them just above his heart. Klaus rested his forehead against hers and kissed her knuckles. “We were dancing. There was no music but I heard it. I always did with you. But then there was so much pain. I thought I was dying, that I was fading away. I remember your tears and how you begged me to stay.” Fresh tears began to fall from Klaus's eyes. The walls and pain he held inside soon came crashing down. Caroline kissed him again, tasting the salt on his lips. “I wanted you to know how much I loved you. Still do. I didn't want to leave.”

“You didn't leave Love, you were taken. Never again. I'll never loose you again.” It was a vow. A vow that Caroline knew he would never break. Much like the vows he promised her a thousand years ago, he held them true. He was a liar and a murderer, except with her. She was the one person who saw behind that pain and the destruction. She held his heart in the palm of her hands and she knew that he would never betray her.

“Who?”

“Katerina.”

“Where is she?” The words came out as a hiss.

“Imprisoned for now. Magic.” Klaus replied and Caroline nodded. He could see her mind turning and plotting. He missed that look. He missed the calculations and cruelty that she could show towards those she deemed her enemy. The Caroline he married was sweet and innocent, if not a bit neurotic and controlling. Over time she lost that innocence, as they all did and she grew bitter towards anyone who was not family; but she was always a master when it came to the game. It was a glorious sight to behold. He loved her then and he loved her now.

“Bring me Nadia. Find her.” It was a command; one that no one was willing to disobey. Elijah was whispering to Freya and Kol; already putting Caroline's plan into action. Both Elena and Bonnie already knew that Klaus was terrifying and capable of heinous things. He was at the very top of the food chain but it was Caroline who controlled him; she was the heart of them all.

And she was angry.

*

It had been a week of silence. Not a single sound came from the Original family. In truth, Elena and Bonnie didn't leave Elena's house for a week. Bonnie's father had been out of town and knew nothing of the events that transpired. Jenna, who was still blissfully ignorant of the supernatural world around her, thought Elena had spent her time at Stefan's. Jeremy and Alaric were the only ones who were suspicious; mainly because Damon had filled Alaric in on the details when the two fixed the Boarding House's living room.

Bonnie was weak and tired. If it hadn't been for Freya acting as the anchor, Bonnie knew that this spell would have killed her. She had no desire to try magic again for awhile nor to be alone. They spun the story that Bonnie was coming down from a nasty bought of the flu and with her father out of town, Jenna decided it would be best if she stayed with them. The two best friends just wanted to know that the other was safe.

And to wonder what would happen next.

Not a single word has been heard from any of the vampires who came to town and turned their lives upside down. Damon would come by the house often and he stated that he spotted Elijah here or saw Freya there. Yet, not a single one sought out contact with them and Damon didn't think they would but he was more than willing to be prepared if they did. It didn't help that Stefan had gone missing as well. The moment Klaus flashed away with Caroline in his arms, Stefan followed suit and no one had seen him since.

“I wonder where they are now, Klaus and Caroline.” Elena said as she handed Bonnie a hot cup of tea. The other girl thanked her and shrugged. While Damon said that he saw Elijah strolling down the street with a cell phone pressed to his ear and Freya carrying what appeared to be shopping bags, neither Klaus or Caroline made an appearance in town. “Didn't you say she would be weak for a time.”

“Yes. A couple weeks if not a few months after she woke up.” Bonnie took a sip of her tea and curled up on the sofa while Elena who sat beside her. “Freya said that she had gone so long without blood but the spell prevented her from desiccating. She would have to feed more often and I'm surprised we haven't heard about bodies or any strange deaths. Other than Tyler's memorial, its been quiet.”

“I know.” Elena looked down at her hands. “Mrs. Lockwood isn't doing well. She just lost her husband and now Tyler? I should look in on Matt too. Tyler was his best friend.” Elena had known Tyler well enough when she dated Matt the year before and wasn't the biggest fan of him. He was a crude and treated whatever girl he was involved with poorly but he didn't deserve to die in such a cruel manner.

“Yeah, and after Vicki-” Bonnie paused when a knock sounded on the door. Elena and Bonnie looked at one another. “Are you expecting someone?” Elena shook her head and stood from the sofa. Bonnie followed silently behind her. Elena opened the door to see Caroline standing on the other side of it. Elena quickly rushed to shut the door but Caroline placed her hand up and both girls paused.

“I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.” Neither Elena nor Bonnie replied. “You do not have to invite me in. You can stand on the other side of the barrier and just listen. But, you do have such a lovely porch swing. May I?” Caroline's smile was genuine and kind. Elena nodded and watched as the old vampire moved towards the swing and sat down. Bonnie linked her fingers through Elena's and they stepped out onto the porch. They looked at Caroline who was seated on the swing and her legs crossed at her ankles.

They looked at her in depth for the first time since she had been awake. Her long blond hair was down and hung around her waist. She was in a light blue long sleeved shirt that showed off her shoulders. She wore black skinny jeans and ankle boots with a small heel. She looked like anyone they would have gone to school with and it struck them how young she appeared. The week before she looked as though she stepped out of a historical horror movie but now, she appeared normal; peaceful even. There was a light about her that neither girl could explain.

“Why are you here?” Bonnie asked and her eyes flickered to the street. A black SUV was parked across the street and she was startled when she saw Klaus leaning against it. He appeared calm and almost amused. He wore dark sunglasses but Bonnie could see a smirk playing on his lips. “Why is he here?”

“I am here to thank you and Nik isn't going to let me out of his sight for a very long time. Don't mind him. ” Caroline's eyes flicked to her husband and she smiled at him. “Ms. Bennett, I wanted to thank you for everything you have done for my family. Freya spoke highly of you and she admires you. I may not know her well yet but I can tell that she doesn't impress easily.”

“That all could have been sent through a text message.” Bonnie said and looked confused for a second. “Do you know what a text message is?” That made Caroline laugh.

“I have been getting a rather large history lesson this week.” She smiled and both girls could see why the Originals wanted her back so desperately. “Yes. I know what a text message is and it is far more convenient than writing letters. However, some things need to be said in person. Nik fought with me, wanting me to stay in bed and rest for a tiny bit longer but I'm stubborn. I wanted out and I wanted to do this in person. You deserve that Bonnie. You deserve that respect.”

“Your husband didn't see it that way when he threatened to murder my family, keep me prisoner and kidnapped Elena.”

“That is true. Nik does have a flare for the dramatics. I may be behind on the times but I believe the term is drama queen?” Elena nodded at Caroline's assessment. “I cannot say that I would have stopped him. I might have even helped him. It wouldn't be the first nor the last bloodbath I've been apart of. But, it didn't come down to that, did it? You're both here, safe and fine. You did our family a huge service and we are now in your debt.” Caroline stood from the swing and walked over to Bonnie. She pulled a small slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to her. “This is my number. Elijah got my one of those small devices you call a cell phone. If you need anything, a vampire problem that needs solving, a cure from werewolf bite, just dial. We are in your debt.”

“So thats it. You drain me of my magic for a time, kill Tyler Lockwood and skip town, all the while saying you owe me a favor?” Bonnie asked. It didn't seem real. She had thought that if anything Caroline and Klaus would try and kill her. After everything Freya and Kol had told her about the Originals, that they were in fact the very first vampires in creation, Bonnie assumed they would sign her death warrant.

“This is how supernatural alliances are made. Trust me, you do not want us as your enemy Bonnie.” Caroline gave her a hard look. “And we are not leaving town, at least not for awhile. I need time to get my strength back.” Caroline looked out at the street. “It has changed so much but this had been my home once, Mystic Falls. I was born here. I married here. I thought I would raise my children here and grow old beside Nik. Strange how things change.”

“What do you mean? You didn't choose this?” Elena asked and Caroline really acknowledged her for the first time. Elena got the impression that Caroline didn't like her very much or any of the doppelgangers. After what Katherine had done, Elena supposed she could understand why, but Elena was not Katherine. “You're the first of the vampires, I had thought you all picked this life or something. Made some deal with devil.”

“No.” Caroline gave a sad smile. “No. I love being a vampire, do not get me wrong. I love being strong and young and powerful, but it wasn't the life I had pictured for myself. I was seventeen and in love when I was made what I am. I was newly married and adjusting to that life when my father-in-law murdered me along with his children.” The two other girls just stared at her. “I wanted nothing more than to bear Nik's children, to care for his home and love him. If I was faced with a choice then, I would not have chosen this path but if I had to choose now, to be vampire or human, I would stay as I am.”

“I'm sorry.” Elena whispered. Caroline looked at her in amazement. She had never thought that she would hear those words from that face. While she knew that this was not Tatia or even Katherine, it was hard to accept such an apology.

“I have known three other woman who looked exactly like you.” Caroline mentioned and it took Elena by surprise. She knew of Katherine and the one who they used to break the curse, but who else had they crossed paths with that looked like her. “They all had one thing in common. They all were selfish. They played men against each other for their own gain. Sometimes they didn't even realize they did it.” Elena paused and felt as though Caroline saw right through her. “You have the chance to change Elena. Stefan may make his choice soon and I don't know if you would like the outcome.” Caroline turned to leave but stopped.

“Wait!” Elena called to her and the blonde turned, cocking her head in question. “You know where Stefan is?”

“Yes.” Caroline replied and she could tell that Elena needed more. “Freya lifted the cloaking spell on our manor to allow Stefan entrance. He wanted to speak with Nik. A few words were exchanged, a few punches thrown and a vase that I had just had ordered was broken.” Caroline smirked and they all could hear Klaus's chuckle from the car. “He then spoke with Rebekah. He said he needed a few days to clear his head and then left town.” Caroline turned to Bonnie, shutting down anymore questions from Elena. “Think on what I said Ms. Bennett. I promise you, my word is good.” With that, Caroline sped off the porch and into the arms of her husband.

*

The Mikaelson Manner was all but complete. For the past week, Caroline and Rebekah have been working on furnishing the home. The girls and Klaus introduced Caroline to the joys of the internet and Caroline couldn't be more in love with it. In brought out the desire to control, design and conquer. Not only that, it was almost instantaneous and seeing that patience was never one of Caroline's virtues, the internet was a blessing.

Klaus let her have her way, of course. Since the moment he built that hut for her and she took over, Klaus knew that while he may provide and protect their family, she was the one who controlled their domain. Even now when the world had changed from the early days of their marriage, Caroline was the one who made everything a home. So, he just stood back while his wife and Rebekah, Freya staying out of the decorating, discussed paint colors and the difference between sofas and daybeds. He only stepped in when Caroline began to feel fatigued, making her to take a rest in their bed.

Only to rest. The reason they stayed in Mystic Falls was for Caroline to regain her strength. It would be easier to do that in a small town compared to one of the many cities his wife loved; especially New Orleans. The issue became that Klaus yearned for her. He hadn't felt her in his arms for so long but he wanted her strong. For her, it had been a week but for him it had been a life time.

“Do you think it wise to give the Bennett witch such a valuable gift?” Klaus asked as Caroline kicked her boots off of her feet and pressed them to the hardwood floor. He smiled at the scene, remembering how she always preferred to be barefoot. Unable to help himself, Klaus wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “She could ask for anything.”

“I asked Freya about her. What she was like.” Caroline turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his lips lightly. “She won't harm us; she is too smart for that. I think she knows that we will not harm her now, despite your threats made out of anger.”

“I won't apologize for them.”

“And I wouldn't want you too.” She gave him another peck for making her way towards the sofa and sitting in front of the unlit fireplace. She stretched out and Klaus sat at the end of the sofa, placing her feet in his lap. “I never would ask you to apologize for anything in your quest to protect our family. If I had not awoken when I did, I know you would have made good on those threats.”

“I would have burned this world to the ground just to hear your voice again.”

“Is that why you let yourself desiccate is Cleveland?” In a second, Caroline was in his lap, straddling his hips. “Marcel told me.” Klaus cursed and looked at her with fragile eyes. It was the same eyes who looked at her when Mikael beat him or when she was in his arms dying. She kissed him lightly. “Never do that again. No matter what happens to me, never let yourself fall into that state again.”

“Nothin will happen to you. I will never allow myself to loose you again.” Caroline didn't say anything, instead she just pressed her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Klaus kissed each of her eyelids before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I thought we were discussing the Bennett witch.”

“We were.” Caroline replied opening her eyes. “She lost her mother, or her mother walked out on her I mean. I gave her the opportunity, the opportunity to find her.” Caroline smiled lightly and Klaus saw the calculation in her eyes. “If we find Abby Bennett, at her request, it would make us even. Therefore, no need for retaliation.”

“Always cleaning up my messes, Love?”

“It was written in my vows.” Caroline chuckled and Klaus rolled his eyes at her. “Beside, I think Ms. Bennett respects Freya more than she is willing to admit. Although, I don't blame her for that. I rather adore my new sister.”

“A century she searches by my side to break your curse but one week with you and she likes you more than me.”

“Nik, everyone likes me more than you.” If it came from anyone else, those words would have hurt him deeply but he knew Caroline; and she was the exception to his every rule. He just attacked her sides with his fingers and caused her cry out in laughter. “Nik!” In a flash he had her pinned to the sofa and withering beneath his fingers. “Stop! Please!” As she requested, Klaus stopped his fingers and just smirked at her. He saw her chest heave and her breath catch.

“Are you alright?” He thought, perhaps, he tired her out and that she over exerted herself. Instead, Caroline just smiled and placed her fingers on his hair line, pushing some dirty blonde curls to the side. Klaus could see the love shine in her eyes and he couldn't help himself, he had to kiss her. He didn't shut his eyes because he couldn't look away from hers.

“I'm perfect.” With that, she wrapped her arms around him and crashed her lips to his. The kiss was passionate and forceful. They felt the past century of loss and pain. Caroline opened her legs and Klaus settled between them comfortably. He couldn't help but grind himself into her clothes core, moaning as he did. Her fingers went into his hair and her nails dug into his scalp. He tore his his lips away from hers and hissed. He thrusted his hips again. “Niklaus.”

“We shouldn't.”

“Why? We're alone. You're my husband and I love you.”

“You're still weak.”

“I'm strong enough for this.” Any resolve he had broke. His lips descended upon hers again. This kiss was possessive and demanding. He completely devoured Caroline and she pressed herself as close to him as she could. Klaus's fingers played with the end up Caroline's shirt and quickly ripped it from her body. His lips moved from hers and trailed down to her collarbone. His tongue licked her skin and Klaus moaned at the taste of her.

“I've missed you. So much.” He kissed the valley between her breasts. Caroline moaned as his teeth nipped at her skin. He knew that his venom would cause her to weaken so he made sure that he didn't bite her hard or break her skin. His eyes took in the black lace bra that she wore and he swore that he never saw anything more beautiful than that sight. He kissed his way down her flat stomach and to the top of her jeans.

He pulled himself off of her and stood. He held out his hand and Caroline weaved their fingers together. He pulled her to him and Caroline jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. They flashed towards the bedroom he crafted just for her. He tossed her lightly on the fourposter bed and watched as her long hair created a halo around her head. She laughed and pushed herself up on her forearms.

“Off.” She pointed at his clothes. Klaus smirked at her and pulled his Henley over his head; allowing the silver necklace to rest on his chest. He pulled the button from the top of his jeans and pushed them down to the floor. Klaus took one of her feet and kissed the top of it; a wicked smile appear on his lips. His hands trailed up the sides of her legs until he reached the fasten on her jeans. Caroline raised her hips and allowed him to pull them down her legs. She laid on the bed in nothing more than a black lace bra and matching panties. Klaus took in her appearance and a mixture of lust and love appeared on his face.

“The sight of a Valkyrie appearing from Valhalla lies before me.” Klaus whispered in a breathy tone. His eyes ranking her in. He looked starved and lost but finding home all at once. Caroline moved to sit on her knees and placed her palms on his chest. She kissed the skin that covered his still heart and Klaus just closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her.

“You said that to me on our wedding night.”

“And it is still true. Everyday.”

“I would have taken a simple 'you're beautiful'”

“You English women lack poetry. So prim and proper, even back then.”

“You vikings are all ruff and tumble but really just as soft on the inside.” Klaus laughed joyously. He missed her teasing. He missed the light she gave him. Her fingertips traced the birds that he had tattooed on his chest. He got them a decade prior when he wondered if he would ever hold Caroline again. “My viking. Only mine.”

“Yours. Only yours.”

“Love me Nik.” Caroline gripped the chain and pulled him roughly to her. Their lips crashed together and their tongues fought for dominance. They tumbled backwards and Caroline molded her body to his. Klaus's hands traveled over her body and slipped his hand into her panties. His fingers traced her slick heat and pressed his thumb against her nub. “Niklaus!”

“I won't last long.” He whispered into her lips before kissing down the side of her neck. He listened to Caroline's whimpers and hushed breathes. He slipped two fingers inside of her and began to thrust them in and out, curling them as he hit that special spot inside of her. She arched her back and tossed her head back. He could feel her walls tighten around his fingers and she screamed out his name. He kissed his way down her body as she came down from her high. Caroline laced her fingers through his dirty blonde hair and pulled him up towards her lips.

“There will be time for that later.” She quickly pushed on his shoulder and flipped them over so Klaus was on his back. She straddled his waist and reached behind her. She hadn't mastered the hooks of a bra yet so she just tore it from her chest and allowed her breasts to come free. Klaus sat up and kissed them greedily. He reached for her panties and tore them away as well. They held each others naked body in their arms.

Klaus aligned himself with her center and pressed his forehead against hers. Slowly, Caroline sank down onto him. They both groaned and hissed at the contact. She allowed her body to get used to the feel of him. She gazed upon his face and there was wonder there. He knew her body better than she did but she had to remind herself that he had been without it for so long.

Caroline placed her hands on his chest and pushed him down. Klaus allowed himself to fall against the mattress and just took in the sight of her on top of him. She raised herself up and then back down. Her pace was slow and tortuous. Klaus put his hands on her hips and helped dictate her movements. He wanted nothing more than to pound himself inside of her but he let her loose herself in him.

He hissed when he hit a sharp spot inside of her. Caroline's head tossed back and Klaus could see the black veins appear under her eyes. He sat up, changing the angle and causing them both to moan. He kissed her lips, his tongue grazing the tips of her fangs; cutting slightly. A small amount of blood made its way into Caroline's mouth and she moaned. The monster under skin came to the surface; clawing for more.

“Take it. Take it all. Take me.” Klaus whispered and Caroline bit down hard onto his neck. The fangs pierced his skin and the blood flowed into her mouth. His hips rutted into her and he flipped them. As she drank from him, Caroline spread her legs wider, allowing him more access to her. Klaus pounded harder into her. She pulled from his neck in order to scream his name. He lost himself completely and spilled himself inside of her. Their eyes locked, bodies intertwined mixed with blood and sweat. “Home. I'm home.”

*

Ancient Mystic Falls

Spring 1001

Caroline was cold. A soft breeze from the spring air flowed through the window of their hut. Her lower body was covered in furs. She laid on her stomach and her back bare to the chill of the morning air. She could say it was the chill that woke her but that would be a lie. Soft lips trailed kisses down her spine, calloused hands touched her hip and the memories of the night before flashed before her eyes. The wedding, the dancing, his hands on her and him inside of her. Caroline smiled, turning in the bed to see the eyes of her new husband peering down at her, his long sandy blond hair untied and hanging loose in his face.

She leaned up and kissed him. She wanted to feel him again, as she had several times through the night but the sun was up and they knew that their rest wouldn't always be excused. No matter how much Caroline wanted to lie in this straw bed with her husband, they had responsibilities. Yet, today she just wanted to kiss him on last time before she faced the world for the first time as married woman.

“We can not stay here forever.” She whispered.

“Yes we can.”

“No, they will send someone to look for us. They will want to know if we consummated our marriage.” Caroline giggled as Klaus's kissed made their way down her neck and he growled. His hands wondering and it still took some getting used to allowing another to have such access; even though she enjoyed it.

“Let them come.”

“They will send Kol. You know they will.” That got Klaus's attention and peered down at her. His face was alight with happiness and joy. Innocent would not be a word she used in these circumstances, for everything they shared the night before was anything but innocent, however she had never seen such freedom etched on his face as she did now. She mentally vowed to make him feel that way as often as she could.

“Never mention my brother's name when you're naked in my arms again.” This made Caroline laugh freely and Klaus's smile grew wide.

“Done.” She leaned up and kissed him one last time before he forced himself from the bed. He was completely naked and Caroline laid back down, enjoying the view. His back was lean and muscled. She could see the scars on his back from the many times Mikael has taken a whip to him. She was thankful that Klaus no longer lived in his home and hadn't for several weeks.

She watched as he tied his hair back and quickly dressed. He laced up his leather boots and grabbed some water from the jug by the window. As he drank, he made his way to the bed and sat down, smiling at his new wife. He kissed her gently on the lips before kissing her forehead.

“I need to see to the cattle. I would hate to give Mikael a reason to change his mind on sharing resources for the time being.” It had taken some convincing on his, Esther's and her mother's part but they finally agreed to share as long as Klaus continued his part of the upkeep, which he always had. “I also promised Henrik that I would teach him how to handle a sword.”

“It would be a shame for you to break that promise.” She smiled and kissed him again. She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked his cheekbones. She smiled at him and looked into his eyes. “You're going to be such a good father. One day.”

“One day. Hopefully soon.” With that Klaus pulled away and made his way to the front door. Caroline sat up and stood from the bed. She grabbed her shift and pulled a muslin gown from the trunk her father brought into the hut the day before. “Caroline.” She turned to look at Klaus who was standing in the doorway. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever.”

But that was the beginning of another story.

[nemo1230]

A thing or two about vulnerability

Richie had lived many years, 41, to be precise, and he hadn't known a thing about vulnerability. Such thing was a complete stranger to him.

But now, lying in a bed together with the love of his life, he let his thoughts wander. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking over to Eddie, who was still asleep. And finally some things made sense to him. It wasn't that he hadn't felt like this before per se, after all he had pinned after Eddie for the better half of his teenage years, but right now, the feeling wasn't tainted with repression and internalized hate. It was free and transparent.

Vulnerability in its essence is one of the greatest dangers and weapons of humanity. In vulnerability there's always a sense of duality, and while being vulnerable you agree to both sides, whether deliberately or not.

It can be peace and misery, a curse and it's cure, all at once. You place your heart and soul in the palms of another person, giving the person the liberty to do whatever they want with them, even breaking them. You just trust them enough that they won't. A trust like that is something that can either crush you in pieces or mend you.

A trust like that is strength, despite what many might believe, Richie realized. It's bulletproof, wholly and irreversibly indestructible down to the very core; it protects you, because it allows you to find a home in another person. A home that's beyond material values is a small salvation of its own; it's safety and security, it's pure, unadulterated love that vividly pierces trough you, providing you with strength unlike any other.

That is, if the love is mutual of course. To misplace trust like that can cause such heartache that can shake the very ground you stand on, to make it crumble beneath you, taking you with it. It's a huge risk, but Richie has always been a risk taker, and oh, how easy it was to take this one. After around 8 years spent pinning and 27 not remembering, that is of course.

To love and to be loved like that was something that Richie never consider to be possible for him, yet here it was, right in front of him, in a form of this small, hyperactive hypochondriac 41 year-old who calls him an idiot on daily basis. With him, he finally felt at home, with him all the misplaced pieces suddenly fell into place.

Richie looked at Eddie, eyes running over every feature of his, watched how the sunlight from the window created a soft glow and delicate shadows on his face and it finally hit him; the fact that he could just do this now. He could love Eddie, as a man, and as a human, with nothing stopping him.

Eddie sighed and shifted in his sleep, turning his face to the side, his hair falling on his face. Richie reached over and pushed the escaping lock of hair behind his ear, then gently run his knuckles over his cheek.

Eddie was snoring not so quietly and a little drool was coming out of his mouth and he hadn't taken a shower yesterday because he had had a quite tiring day at work, and oh dear god and all heavens above, he looked so stunning Richie could cry.

He had picked up the habit of just simply watching Eddie. He liked watching him do simple, mundane things, like reading a book or cooking, or anything really. While there was a certain thrill of doing new things with Eddie of course, there now was newfound enjoyment in simplicity. Maybe he was really getting old, but he found that just being with Eddie was enough. Or maybe it was the fact that he had come so close to losing Eddie, that now he really was relishing that he was alive, breathing.

"Fucking creep." Eddie's voice echoed trough Richie's thoughts, making him snap out of it. He looked down and noticed Eddie's vivid, sparkling eyes looking at him.

"Well, good morning to you too, spaghetti-man, " Richie said, a smile already forming on his face.

Even just woken up, sleep mussed Eddie was able to direct a death glare Richie's way. ''I swear to god, if you don’t stop calling me that, dude.''

Richie raised one eyebrow. "And how is calling me dude any better? As if we're two straight dudes, complaining about our wives, watching sports, ya know, living our best heterosexual lives. If you need to be reminded, we fucked yesterday. That's not very 'dude' of us.''

Eddie signed, sat up in the bed and run his hand trough his hair. Then he turned to Richie, who was watching him with a grin on his face. ''You know what, you're right, I just realized that I am, in fact, a heterosexual man, sorry, dude,'' he said, making sure to emphasize the word 'dude', ''I gotta go back to my wife, I don't think she'll be very happy if she finds out that I have once again stayed the night at some attractive mans house.''

Richie snorted and sat up too. "Hmm, and how often exactly do you stay at the houses of these attractive men?" He slowly put his hand over Eddie's chest, gently running his hand over the big scar that now decorated Eddies front and back. Eddie was still quite insecure about it, so Richie never stopped reminding him how beautiful he was and that a scar like that could never change that.

Goosebumps rose on Eddie's skin and he shivered.  He put his hand over Richie's and laced their fingers. "Every night." He whispered, then leaned forward and softly kissed Richie, to which Richie was quick to respond. Kissing Eddie was something that he never got tired of.

When Eddie pulled back slightly, Richie spoke again, changing his voice to sound more like a professional doctor. ''Well, Mr. Kaspbrak, I sure do have some new for you. I have to diagnose you with Richie Tozier-sexuality. This includes being incredibly attracted to dudes with dad bods and terrible personal hygiene. '' He announced, matter-of-factly, counting the things he listed on his fingers for emphasis.  

Eddie pulled back a bit more, just enough to fix Richie with a pointed look. ''Is there any cure to this horrible disease? '' His voice was serious, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

''Yeah, I recommend getting under the covers with me immediately, that should help you quite alright. '' Richie declared, while pointing at the blankets on their bed.

Eddie raised one eyebrow and tilted his head. ''Are you always this flirty with your patients? ''

''Yeah, actually. I am flirty with every single one of my patients, which include, hmm let me check, '' He then pretended to check an invisible list of patients that he apparently has, and then continued, ''Eddie Kaspbrak. Yeah, that would be all. ''

Eddie smirked, leaning forward, and slowly running his thumb over Richie's lower lip. ''How very unprofessional of you, doctor. ''

Richie had no idea how they always could go from stupid jokes like that, to heavy flirting like this. But he wasn't about to complain, rather the opposite.

Richie already felt his cheeks reddening. ''Will I get punished for it? '' He whispered, pressing so close to Eddie that they were breathing the same air.

''Oh, most certainly. '' Came the reply, which Richie felt more on his lips rather then heard.  Then Eddie pulled back, Richie chasing after him, and while still having that suggestive smirk, calmly said, ''Go do the dishes, babe. ''

Richie gasped and scrunched up his face in disappointment. ''Bro, really?!''

Eddie only snorted and tilted his head. ''And who's being a straight dude now, huh?'' He laughed, so open and happy, that Richie couldn't help but to swoon at, after all this time all he still could think was - 'cute cute cute'.

''Well, shit you caught me, all the internalized homophobia that I've felt my whole life has been fake and I actually do like boobs!''

Eddie signed, laid back down on his back and sprayed out his hands. He looked at Richie, pressing his lips in a thin line and then smiling sadly. ''I fucking hate this. It's fucking bullshit. That we had to go through that. ''

Richie joined him, snuggling up close to Eddie, laying his head on his chest. ''Yeah. It sucked ass, but I am happy now though. You make me so happy, Eds.'' He took Eddies hand and started playing with his fingers. A stupid joke about sucking ass was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He has used humor to hide his true feelings for his whole life, but being with Eddie made him realize that maybe, sometimes it was good to just feel.

Being this close to another person was still a challenge to him. Living a life mostly all by himself, never letting anyone close left it's impact after all. He had built walls upon walls, but with Eddie there beside him, he could feel them slowly crumbling.

''You make me so happy too, Rich.'' He kissed the top of Richie's head, took a deep breath and whispered, ''I love you.''

Richie tried his best to still his beating heart and blushing cheeks. This wasn’t the first time they’ve told these words to each other, but every time they still made Richie's breath get stuck in his throat, and his heart skip a beat. ''I love you too, Eds, I love you too. ''

Then Richie looked up, into Eddie's eyes and saw that he too was still affected by words like that. He smiled, open and bright, and Eddie smiled back, just the same, his eyes full of fondness and unmistakable, undeniable love.

And Eddie looking at him like that made him realize that perhaps being in love really was an endless free fall. You trip over the edge at that's it, no ground to reach, just you falling deeper and deeper and deeper. And he never wanted to stop.

Now he could say that he knew a thing or two about vulnerability, and honestly, it's a pretty fucking good feeling.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - prompt #1: It's all my fault.

Chapter 11 is up, in which Belle and Gold go shopping. Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] 

[AO3]

x

When she had found out that she was pregnant, Belle had gone through a range of emotions. The first was panic, closely followed by denial, then by bitter anguish. She had spent much of the day of the test results crying in the university restrooms and lamenting the day she had ever decided to go to bed with Alexander Gold. For a brief moment, she had been tempted to call him to give him the news, just so he could share in some of her misery, but the thought of his cold disdain was too much to face, especially after her father had practically disowned her.

She had made up her mind almost immediately that she would keep the baby, which was one less decision to fret over, but that meant that a number of other choices had to be made, and made quickly. She had the test result confirmed, was given an approximate due date, and had talked to the university about deferring completion of her studies once the baby arrived. She had sought advice from Emma about what to expect throughout pregnancy, had read every book on the subject that she could find, and had tried to ensure that she ate a balanced diet. When she could keep her food down. Overall, she felt that she was about as well-prepared for motherhood as a single woman in her early twenties making minimum wage and with no family to support her could be. Which was not very prepared at all.

Belle had assumed that having Gold tell her categorically that he intended to help out both financially and physically with the baby would make her relax, but in reality it only caused her more anxiety, and she was unsure why that was. Certainly having the apartment had given her some security, and waking up in its large and comfortable bed every morning was like letting out a deep, calming breath. She was free of the constant worry over money and making ends meet, of the landlord knocking at the door to demand rent that she didn’t have. And yet, she still felt an ongoing, exhausting sense of stress, an acidic ball of iron that had settled in her belly and refused to leave. 

He was true to his word, picking her up from outside the university in his Cadillac and driving her to the new clinic for her check-up. Belle sat in silence, hands folded in her lap as they went, and once they had parked up Gold offered her his arm. Taking it felt strange, but she tried to put it from her mind, focusing on the doors of the clinic, and beyond them the gleaming waiting area with its plush leather seats and fresh coffee. 

There was paperwork to fill out, and tests to be run, but it was nothing she hadn’t been through before. Gold seemed anxious as the doctor held the consultation with her, but Belle was unfazed by the questions asked and the measurements taken. She had expected this first visit to take a little longer, given that she was a new patient. Dr Jekyll was a nervous-looking man who blinked a lot, but he seemed to know what he was talking about.

“Well, the baby seems to be developing as expected,” he said at last. “You’re a little underweight, though. You could do with eating a little more, if you can manage it.”

“I’ve been trying to tell her that,” put in Gold, and Belle glared at him.

“Yeah, well, there’s only so many hours in the day,” she muttered. “I have work and study to take care of, alongside everything else.”

“Then try to make sure you get as much nutrient-dense food as possible,” said Dr Jekyll kindly. “Carry snacks with you as you go about, and make sure you don’t go too long between meals. Building a baby is hard work, you need to make sure your body has the fuel it needs.”

“I’ll try to feed her up,” said Gold.

“Good, good,” said Jekyll vaguely, looking at his notes. “I don’t expect there to be much change between now and next week, but try to make sure she eats a range of quality foods, not just sugar.”

Belle bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from snapping at both of them.

“Well, the good news is there’s not long to go now,” said Jekyll, peering at his computer screen. “You’re due on May fifth, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“A spring baby,” he said, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. “This cold weather will have cleared up by then. A little sunshine to welcome the new light in your life.”

He smiled at her, and Belle couldn’t help smiling back. Yes. She was looking forward to the baby being born. Quite how it would change her relationship with its father was still to be seen.

x

After the doctor’s appointment, they went to buy paint. Belle had chosen the colours she wanted: lilac and pale blue for the nursery and terracotta for the kitchen. She hadn’t made a decision on the lounge and bedrooms yet, and Gold said it could wait until she was sure. He bought paint trays, rollers and brushes, along with a set of painting overalls for her to wear and several large sheets to spread over the floors and furniture.

“Thanks,” she said, as they packed everything into the trunk of the car. “You know how clumsy I am. I’ll probably track paint all over the apartment without these.”

“I could still get professionals in to paint the walls,” he said.

“Thanks, but I’d like to do it myself,” she said. “It - it would help to make the place feel more like mine, you know?”

“I understand.”

Gold closed the trunk, taking a step back.

“I can always help you out, if you like,” he ventured, but she shook her head.

“Emma and Neal have already said they’ll help,” she said. “We’re gonna have kind of a paint-the-apartment party this weekend.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, if there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

He flashed her a brief smile, the light catching in his eyes. He looked very handsome with his short hair, and she looked away, pain making her mouth twist. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she couldn’t move past him. How long would it take for her to fall out of love with him? Forever, she imagined, if he continued to act like a decent human being. Damn him.

x

As the afternoon wore on, he continued to treat her with a gentle solicitude, insisting on taking her for tea at a nearby deli and watching as she ate a piece of pumpkin pie with cream that had been laced with cinnamon and whipped to soft peaks. Pumpkin pie probably wasn’t what Dr Jekyll had had in mind when he told her to eat more, but it was so delicious she didn’t really care. Gold waved away her offer to share, merely drinking a black coffee, and she wondered if he had appointed himself her nutritionist. Chief engineer of the baby-making machine. The thought made her frown to herself, but it didn’t stop her from eating the pie.

After the deli, Gold took her to a large department store that she had never before set foot in due to the prices. Inside was a beautiful glittering paradise of sleek synthetic marble and polished wood, filled with the scents of hundreds of perfumes and toiletries. The baby section was large, a sea of pink and blue and white, and she felt out of place in her scuffed boots and five-year-old coat, although she tried not to let it bother her.

Gold seemed almost animated by the shopping trip, having lengthy discussions with the sales staff about items to purchase and displaying a surprising amount of knowledge about what babies needed. Belle largely left him to it, wandering along behind him with the little shopping cart and only giving input when he asked. They agreed on a set of furniture in pale grey and white, a chest of drawers and dresser with a large, well-cushioned chair in which she could sit and feed the baby. It was a strange thing to think of, that the child inside her would very soon be on the outside, in her arms and looking for her to feed it and keep it safe. It was overwhelming if she thought about it too much, so she tried to put it from her mind. Low-level terror over being responsible for a tiny human would have to wait.

“So, the furniture can be delivered on Wednesday afternoon,” he said, making her look up. “Is that alright?”

“Uh - can we make it Thursday?” she asked. “I have to work Wednesday.”

“Ah. Well, how about next week?” he asked. “You’ll have stopped working by then, right?”

“Right.”

“And I suppose it’ll be better, because the nursery will have been painted,” he added. “You can just take everything for the baby in there, rather than store it elsewhere in the apartment.”

“Right,” she repeated.

“I’ll tell them when it comes to paying for everything,” he said. “Let’s keep looking.”

He hurried off with what was almost a spring in his step, and she watched him go, a wave of sadness washing over her. She became more withdrawn as they made their way around the section, and responded with unenthusiastic murmurs to his suggestions. Gold eyed her with a slight frown on his face at first, which made her bristle, although she tried not to show it. 

“I have a crib,” she told him, as he was looking over the third one that afternoon. “Emma was going to lend me Henry’s.”

“Our child doesn’t need hand-me-downs,” he said dismissively. “Besides, what if she chooses to have another baby? She’ll need it back.”

“I think that’s highly unlikely in the middle of her studies, don’t you?”

“I think babies come when they come,” he replied.

Belle sighed, and left him to it, merely nodding when he asked if she agreed with his choice. She could feel herself getting ever more anxious and resentful, and while she told herself that he was stepping up and supporting her as she had wanted, and that she was therefore being unreasonable, she couldn’t seem to shake her negativity. The reactions of the staff didn’t help.

“Are you and your husband finding everything okay?” chirped the third sales assistant in ten minutes, as Belle pawed listlessly through a rack of romper suits. Gold was some way ahead, his free arm filled with clothing in a myriad of colours.

“We’re not married,” she said coldly, and the sales assistant beamed.

“Oh, sorry! Still, plenty of time for that. I guess you’ve been concentrating on preparing for baby, right?”

“I’ve mostly been concentrating on not killing him,” said Belle flatly, and flourished one of the suits. “Do you have this in any other colours?”

“Uh - let me check out back.”

The sales assistant wandered off, and Belle heaved a sigh of relief.

“What about these?”

She looked around to see Gold holding up a pair of patterned booties with pom-poms hanging from strings. He shook them at her, a wide smile on his face as the pom-poms bounced.

“Adorable, hmm?” he said. “How could you resist them?”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, and he looked puzzled.

“Picking out baby things.”

“No,” she said. “No, I mean - I mean what are you doing?”

His confusion only seemed to increase.

“I don’t understand.”

“Forget it,” she sighed, snatching the booties off him and dropping them in the cart.

She could feel him staring after her as she walked off, but to give him his due he soon caught her up, dropping his choices into the cart and making quiet suggestions as to other things they might need. It felt as though he had picked up on her mood and was trying to placate her, which only made her more irritated, and then annoyed at herself for being irrational. It was a relief when he announced that they probably had enough to be going on with, and went to pay for everything. She was silent on the way back to the apartment, and the atmosphere between them was heavy and dark, making her feel awkward as she plucked at the skin on the back of her hand: a nervous, repetitive gesture. 

Gold could sense that Belle was annoyed with him, although he wasn’t sure why that was, other than the massive fuck-up that had led to them being in this situation in the first place. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, though, and he didn’t know what to say, so he endured the painful silence on the journey back to her apartment. He helped her carry up the tins of paint and the bags of brushes and rollers, and she thanked him quietly as he set them on the kitchen counter. She had stepped back, towards the window with its view over the park, and was looking out of it and chewing her lip.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked, his voice seeming loud in the tense silence, and she shook her head. He heaved a sigh.

“Belle, you seem upset with me,” he said wearily. “I don’t know why, besides the obvious, so can you please tell me what I’ve done?”

“You haven’t done anything.”

It was said automatically, and in something of a monotone. He wasn’t sure she believed it any more than he.

“Please,” he said again. “I know this is a difficult time for you, and I know the baby’s arrival must be making you nervous, so if there’s anything I can do…”

He left it hanging, hoping she would help him out and tell him what she needed. Belle seemed to wriggle uncomfortably, sucking her teeth a little.

“It’s - it’s hard,” she said eventually.

“I know,” he said carefully. “That’s why I’m trying to make sure you have as little to worry about financially as I can, and why I wanted to get everything the baby might need.”

“No,” she said. “It’s hard - it’s hard having you around.”

She wasn’t really looking at him, her eyes darting furtively to him and then away, her shoulders hunched a little. It felt as though a heavy weight had lodged in his throat and was making its way slowly down towards his stomach.

“Oh,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. You’re a fucking idiot. Of course it’s hard. Why would she want the person who broke her heart back in her life? Moron!

“It feels—” Belle screwed up her nose, glancing away. “It’s like when we’re out shopping together and people treat us like we’re a married couple or something, and it’s like a slap in the face every damn time.”

“Why do you care what people think?”

“That’s not the point…” She ran her hands over her face. “It’s not what they think, it’s - it’s what it is. Maybe I’m not explaining it all that well. I’m not sure I even know what I mean.”

“Okay,” he said, bewildered. “Well, in that case, why don’t you tell me what you need?”

“I need you to go,” she said decidedly, nodding.

The weight settled in his lower belly, spreading outwards and anchoring his feet to the floor.

“Right,” he said, his voice hollow. “Right. Then I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

She was hugging herself now, arms folded protectively over the top of her swollen belly. He wanted to hug her himself, to take her in his arms and hold her close, to offer her comfort and reassurance. It hit him hard in the gut, a painful, breathtaking blow as he realised that he had never done so. Not once. He tried to think of a time when he had shown her some intimacy without them having sex, and couldn’t. God, no wonder she hated him! He swallowed hard, his mouth dry.

“Can I still take you to your next appointment?” he asked, his voice sounding eerily calm in his head, and she nodded.

“Of course.”

“There’s still the matter of seeing my lawyer,” he went on. “Perhaps we can schedule them both for the same day.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Right,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Then I’ll see you next Monday.”

She nodded again, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders, still hunched against him, shutting him out.

“I’ll go back to Storybrooke,” he added, figuring it would do her good to know he wouldn’t be in the city. That he wouldn’t be haunting her, stalking her from the shadows as she tried to go on with her life.

“Thank you,” she said again, and hesitated. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” he said, his tone wry. “It’s all my fault, after all.”

She hung her head a little, as though she agreed with him, but didn’t want to say it aloud. He could feel his hand beginning to ache from gripping the cane handle, and loosened his grip. 

“Well,” he said. “I’ll see myself out.”

She nodded, giving him one final glance. Her blue eyes were filled with sadness, and guilt, and regret. He could feel his own emotions rising up inside him, wanting to burst out and drown him, and so he nodded stiffly and turned away, heading for the door with a slow and heavy tread. She needed space. He could give her that, at least.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{ PART I: BLOOD GETS IN YOUR EYE }

taglist: @bebemoon @interluxetumbra @vampirkaninchen @blubbingbeautifully​

set link: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2441256

. . . L I K E  B L O O D  F O R  R O S E S . . . 

Ysabelle seemed preoccupied with something - the floors, Yinmei thought - and so she decided to put her old friend out of her misery.

“Vavassour,” she said, looking down to where Ysa was standing, one hand on her hip.

“Zhang,” came Ysa’s soft response as she looked over the foyer. “Have you seen either of the cherubs? Tonight of all nights, they decide to shirk duties when I gave them the strictest order to-”

Yinmei ignored Ysa’s complaining (well, the closest that the Bloodmother ever got to complaining, anyway), instead letting a few of the rose petals from her basket float gently down the distance between the two of them, to land on Ysa’s head.

“Chatham passed his rose chore off to me,” she said languidly, and dropped a few more petals. She rested the side of her face against her free hand. “He said he did not have the time.”

Chatham was a horrible little thing, in Yinmei’s opinion - he thought her ugly, and Yinmei would have him know that if anything was ugly, it was his utter lack of knowledge about proper skincare procedures. 

I mean, for shame, she seethed to herself. If he were human, he would be an idiotic sixteen-year-old boy with pimples covering his entire face. And bad breath to boot.

Ysa swiped the petals from her hair and began walking up the staircase, her dark robes trailing behind her. “Did he say what was so pressing that he could not obey his mistress?” 

Yinmei lifted herself from the banister as Ysa approached. “I did ask,” she replied, “but he told me I ought to mind my own business.” The hideous creature. She gestured vaguely at the basket. “It’s really not a bother. They smell lovely.”

Ysa reached out to lightly flick at her collarbone. “You shouldn’t allow him to boss you,” she said, “After all, frail and aged as you are, you’re hardly suited to labor- your bones could turn to dust at any moment. Do let one of the younger girls handle it.”

Normally, Yinmei would have responded with a playful quip of her own, but when her friend mentioned one of the ‘younger girls’....

“Yes, why not have your new little friend do it?” she said, her voice a tad sharper than she’d intended. She gave Ysa a sideways glance. “It seems the least she could do after keeping the entire house up all day long.”

Ysa will get the others killed, with this obsession of hers. Especially with Sire and his wolves on the loose, Yinmei thought to herself, irritated. Amaelia’s nothing more than a distraction. Hypocritical of me to criticize Ysa for distracting herself, perhaps, but I’m not the Bloodmother of our Coven. 

And, privately, Yinmei knew that she was only giving Ysa such a hard time because of a situation that required more of her own attention than she would have liked to admit. Lately, there had been - nothing more than a stirring, really, she consoled herself - something. Something itching at the back of her skull. Something that she’d thought she’d left behind her forever, hacked to pieces and burnt to a crisp two thousand-odd years ago in a farming village that no longer existed, on the other side of the world.

If she had to deal with that, well, she couldn’t guarantee that she would be there for the Coven when the werewolves moved in. And if Ysa was distracted with her newest plaything, then they would be vulnerable.

It took Yinmei a moment to realize that Ysa was talking to her, again. “I hate to think Lia is disturbing your peace, my dear. I will see what I can do,” she said, and then she was gone.

Yinmei turned back to the rose petals, letting a few more drift slowly downwards. From her vantage point, leaning over the banister, they almost looked like speckles of blood, dotting the newly-refurbished floor.

        ━━━━━━━━━  

The Halacre Historical Society could, in Yinmei’s humble opinion, go fuck themselves. But her days of slaughtering entire towns and feasting on the bloodshed were long gone, and even Yinmei, as petty and fickle as she was when it came to mortals, could see the logic in playing nice with the humans.

...though that didn’t mean she had to like it.

She’d traded out her preferred glass eye (the one with a ruby iris) for something a little less conspicuous, just for the event. Her gown was all delicate lace and strands of freshwater pearls, and she’d left her hair long and loose, to match Ysa’s.

They were, after all, supposed to be wives for the duration of the house warming.

Ysa finally re-appeared sometime after the house warming had started, saving Yinmei from the utter boredom of dealing with the head of the Historical Society. Yinmei was not particularly tall herself, but the woman who led the Historical Society had to have been at least an entire head shorter. 

“Ah, there you are!” she called to Ysa, spotting her passing through the foyer. She pointedly raised her eyebrows, and beckoned delicately for Ysa to come join her.

“Dear,” Yinmei began, keeping her voice as cheerful as she could, given the circumstances. Ysa was wearing a lovely tailored suit of dark blue velvet; Yinmei couldn’t help but to admire it. “This Paulette Maminot, the head of the Halacre Historical Society. Paulette, this is my wife Ysabelle.”

Paulette offered her hand to Ysa. “How do you do?” she said sourly. The slight frown on her face deepened. “You two are married, then? My, my. How modern.”

Ysa leaned on her cane and grinned. Yinmei wanted to roll her eyes. “Oh, yes,” said the Bloodmother, “for several, blissful years now. Have you met the children? They should be-”

“Actually, we were hoping for a tour of the house,” the old woman interposed. “My father used to own this property- it’s been in my family for ages. I was disappointed to know that my brother sold it. I see you’ve…taken the liberty of changing a few things. Thank goodness you kept the original flooring.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Yinmei said lightly, even as she tensed. “The floors are the last thing to be dealt with. We just cannot agree on what to cover that old wood with. I say grey cork or perhaps vinyl.”

“But I just adore shag carpet,” Ysa answered, playing along. “It speaks of luxury.”

Yinmei shrugged one shoulder, nonchalantly. “You are right about that.”

Maminot looked like she’d just swallowed a lemon. Yinmei suppressed a snicker. 

“Well,” the mortal sighed, finally, “burn it down for all I care. Shall I gather the others for the tour?”

Ysa gestured her approval, and Maminot went off to gather the other humans. She turned back to Yinmei, once the head of the Historical Society had gone. “Paper, scissors, stone,” she said. “The loser plays tour-guide.”

Yinmei grimaced, but obliged.

       ━━━━━━━━━  

The tour had been positively torturous, but they were almost done. Thank the stars for that, Yinmei thought, sourly. It was women like Maminot who, in another time and another place, would have been the one insisting that Yinmei ought to bind her feet until the bones snapped and keep her eyes down and never speak out of turn-

-fucking hell. There she was going on again, about everything that she’d sworn she would forget. It was that itching in the back of her head, again, the one that made her skin crawl and bile rise up her throat. 

She swore again, silently. Sooner or later, she would have to venture east and deal with it, she knew, but for now she would grit her teeth and smile, for Ysa and for the rest of the Coven.

Yinmei managed to tune out the nonsense that came out of Maminot’s mouth, and they had just reached the last stop on the tour when a figure with a tumble of scarlet curls, dressed in a rich emerald green, appeared at the top of the stairs. 

Yinmei had enough time to let out a startled exclamation, in her native tongue, before Poppy descended on the crowd.

Shrieks filled the air. “Find Ysabelle!” Yinmei snapped, and she was on Poppy in an instant, pulling her away from her first victim. Poppy thrashed in her arms, managing to break free, and by the time Yinmei was able to grab at her again, there were already half a dozen bodies strewn around the stairs.

“Where the hell is Ysabelle?!” Yinmei roared, the smell of blood hitting her nostrils all at once. Poppy wriggled out of her grip for long enough to latch onto Maminot, whose shrill screams did nothing but add to the chaos.

Yinmei didn’t let herself panic. She didn’t have time to, because Poppy was struggling against her, raking at her gown, the humans’ blood soaking the other vampire’s dress, spilling out into the air-

Finally, finally, Ysa was there, and she and Angelika wrestled the doll-faced redhead back into her rooms. Yinmei stood in the middle of it all, covered in white lace dyed bright crimson, the delicate pearls clattering to the ground. The other members of the underworld were murmuring at the scene, concerned, and every single member of the Halacre Historical Society was dead or dying, their pained moans floating into the edge of Yinmei’s consciousness.

Ysa gave the order to burn the bodies. Yinmei stepped aside to let Chatham and Weep-not move in to do the Bloodmother’s bidding, and as she began walking in the direction of her friend, her senses slowly began to return to her.

She took a deep breath, and the scent of rose petals mingled with the heady smell of blood. 

Yinmei paused, disoriented, and then continued on her way.

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Hi Readers, here’s the latest chapter.  As usual, thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” which you can read on FanFiction and AO3.  Chapter 25 Soon after we arrive, I set to work sweeping the floor clear of dust with the twig broom my father made for me.  Then I take a few logs from the woodpile in the corner and transfer them to the fireplace for use later on.   That done, cooking and eating utensils are placed by the hearth.  Sleeping mats are unrolled, sleeping bags are shaken out and then arranged on top.   It’s like playing house again.  Just as I did when my father brought me here as a child.   I survey my work, satisfied that I’ve made our accommodation as comfortable as I can make it.  I’ve put about three feet between the sleeping mats.  Not so close as to be an invitation, but not so far apart that it looks like I’m keeping him at a distance either.  Because I’m not yet sure how I should proceed. This is all so new to me, and I’m hopelessly out of my depth.  Gale, Peeta even, belong to my teenage years and kissing was as far as it went.  An adult relationship comes with a different set of expectations.  I have to be careful that I don’t start something that could quickly escalate into something I’m not ready for.   But something has started already, a little voice reminds me.  It started when you returned his kisses.   I put my hand to my lips at the memory.  Yes, I returned them.  And with such enthusiasm that it took Marcus by surprise.  But he recovered quickly, and matched passion with passion.  We stumbled over to the couch, displacing a furious Buttercup as we collapsed onto it, barely breaking the kiss.  I welcomed his hand on my breast, and the hand on my behind pulling me against his hardness.  Even the hand between my legs, stroking through the thick fabric of my khaki trousers.   But when he whispered “bedroom” in my ear, I froze.  I was like Haymitch, jolted to rude consciousness by a jug of cold water poured over my head. Shocked, disorientated, confused. What was I doing?  I’m in love with Peeta.  I muttered something about moving too fast and Marcus accepted it, perhaps putting it down to District conservativeness when it comes to sex.   He’s been very solicitous of me these past few days but there’s been no more kisses.  It’s like he’s giving me my space.  The only thing is that I’m not sure I want it.

Since I see no clear solution to the problem, I push it aside for the time being and set to my next task which is to cast out fishing lines to catch my dinner.  Marcus has brought cans of beans and dehydrated meals you add water to.  While I don’t dislike beans, they’re no substitute for freshly caught fish. I brought along my bow but it’s for protection from predators and it won’t be used to bring down waterfowl on this trip. Marcus hasn’t said anything about my hunting, but I suspect anyone who is both conservationist and a vegetarian probably wouldn’t approve.  When the woods are turned into national park, there will be restrictions on hunting. Maybe even a ban.  I have mixed feelings.  I never hunted for sport, only for food.  But it was a hard-earned skill, and one I’ve been very proud of. I can see why it has to be done. I’d much rather a forest teaming with life than a free-for-all for trigger-happy hunters to practice their target shooting. But it will be a sad day, none-the-less.   And that’s another thing that won’t stay the same.  

But what is still the same, for now anyway, are the lake and the concrete house.   To my relief, they were exactly as I left them. Neither showed any sign of recent human activity.  But it’s only a matter of time before others discover it too.  At little more than a half day walk from the meadow, it’s a wonder it hasn’t happened already.   Once the lines are out, there’s nothing to do but wait.  I flop down onto a grassy spot near the bank to enjoy the sunshine and the scenery.   It’s a lovely day.  The sun is warm, but not hot.  The breeze is gentle and just cool enough to be refreshing.  Nature is bountiful here.  Ducks and geese float serenely on the lake.  Birds chatter in the trees.  Frogs croak and the scent of pine fills the air.  In the distance, I see Marcus exploring the area, making notes and taking measurements.  Perhaps he’s planning a viewing platform or something. He said he wants to keep the lake as untouched as possible.  No hunting or fishing huts like they had in the past.   My mind wanders to other times spent here.   With my father, who taught me how to swim in this very lake, and where to dig for katniss roots.   With Gale when I tried to persuade him to escape with me into the woods.  He told me he loved me that day.  But I couldn’t say it back and it changed things between us, far more than the kiss ever did.  At least I could pretend the kiss never happened, since Gale said nothing about it when we next met.  But once a friend has declared love, and it’s not returned, the friendship is over. Maybe not straight away, but its demise is inevitable.  There’s no going back. Peeta would have thought of this. Especially since he’s to be married soon.  Too awkward and painful for all concerned.  Better to put it out of its misery than have it die a lingering death. I haven’t seen him since that strange conversation on my porch when he told me he’d see me around.  The next morning, when I left for work, I didn’t wait for him but marched briskly towards the town.  But I couldn’t help looking back every few minutes, hoping that I had somehow misinterpreted his meaning, and he was behind me trying to catch me up.  He wasn’t.   And then I think of my very last visit to the lake almost a year ago.  It was a stifling hot day.  I had ventured outside with the intention of checking on Haymitch but instead caught Peeta as he was about to go into town.  He was to meet Lace at the swimming pool where they were having swimming lessons together. He asked me along, but the prospect of spending an afternoon in their company as some kind of hanger-on was the last thing I wanted. Suddenly at a loss, I abandoned my earlier plan to visit Haymitch and headed for the woods. All I could think about was Peeta and how suited Lace was for him, and how I wasn’t.  My self-esteem was at its lowest ebb.  I couldn’t think of one admirable quality I possessed.  I couldn’t imagine why anyone would love me.

Instinct more than anything must have propelled my feet towards the lake.  Maybe because this place reminds me of my father and a time when I felt loved.  I ended up staying overnight, unwilling to face the long walk back in the heat.  There was a Victor’s dinner that night but it didn’t occur to me that I’d be missed.   But I was.  They phoned me several times until Haymitch was dispatched to my house to look for me.  I met Peeta the next day as he was headed into town.  He said he had been worried about me, that anything could have happened.  He did look as if hadn’t slept, so maybe he had worried, but he didn’t try to find me.  I didn’t ask why at the time. It didn’t even occur to me.  I was too resentful at the presumption that I couldn’t look after myself.  But still, I could have been stranded in the woods with a broken leg for all he knew.  And here he was, on his way to see Lace. I followed him into town, as he asked.  He had something to tell me that apparently couldn’t wait.   I wasn’t to come over at night anymore to sleep in his guestroom because it made him a bad boyfriend.  I recall he had a visitor that night, probably Lace.  I guess that’s why it was so urgent.  Can’t have the ex-fiance turning up in the middle of the night when the new girlfriend is staying over.   Looking back, that’s when I should have seen the signs and ended it.  None of this insistence that he get his memories back.  All it led to was a year of futility and frustration.  I should have known that my Peeta was dead when his first instinct was to protect Lace rather than me.   I can’t be mad at him.  This is what the hijacking was meant to achieve.  That it didn’t succeed in its full objective to make him completely hate me, is of little comfort.  It took what I cherished most and killed it.  The steadfast devotion was gone.  So too was the undying love.   Perhaps, since he couldn’t love me the way he used to, I should be thankful that Peeta put a stop to the guestroom sleep-overs.   At least it gave me the impetus to make a stand, and get off my backside and do something with my life.  I have friends and a job I love now.   And there’s a man who seems to like me a lot. He’s over by the concrete house right now, getting a campfire started.  He’s not my boyfriend, but would he be, if I opened that door? All I know is that it’s far too soon for me to love anyone.  Anyway, there can’t be much future in it.  He won’t be staying in 12 for ever and I can’t go anywhere.   When I check the fishing lines, I find one has caught a nice trout.  It’s not very big, but plenty enough for one person.  I remove the hook from its mouth and take a folding knife from my pocket to clean and scale it.  Then I walk over to where Marcus is.  He’s got the fire burning nicely and is in the process of emptying a can of beans into a saucepan.   “I’ve got my dinner,” I announce brightly, holding my fish aloft. He glances my way just long enough to take in the fish before he turns his attention back to the beans.  He says nothing. “What?” I exclaim.  His back is turned to me, but I see disapproval in every line. “Nothing,” he says, barely deigning to look at me.  “But I don’t see why you had to kill another living creature when we have plenty of food.   Which, by the way, is undersized. It should have been thrown back.” I stand there gaping at him, completely taken aback.  I’m not used to receiving criticism from Marcus and it takes a few seconds to find my voice.

“It is not undersized.  Well, maybe a little, but not by much.  I don’t get this.  You know I hunt.  Why shouldn’t I eat fish if that’s what I want.  Not everyone wants to eat rabbit food all the time.  Like you.”   “Rabbits don’t eat beans,” he says.  He calmly places the saucepan of beans on the metal grate before standing and turning his attention to me.  “I just don’t see the need to eat meat, that’s all, when we can live very well on a vegetarian diet. “You eat milk and eggs,” I say accusingly. “They come from animals.” “Yes, but we don’t kill the animal to get them. When this place becomes a national park, they’ll be no fishing.  But it’s done now, so you might as well eat it.  It will have lost its life for nothing if you don’t.” I’m so annoyed, I want to take my fish and slap him across the face with it.  It’s almost as if my very reason for existence has been challenged.  My hunting skills are what kept me alive in the Games.  Hunting is what kept myself and my family fed.  He’s never had to worry about where his next meal comes from.  It must be so nice to have choices. “I don’t see that I’ve done anything wrong. Big fish eat little fish.  Big animals eat smaller animals. It’s how nature works.  So get over it.” I look around for something to put my fish in but I don’t see a frying pan.   But then I remember I put some cooking things by the hearth in the concrete house. That suits me just fine.  I could use some distance from Marcus right now. Besides I don’t want to use his fire.  I want my own.  I wouldn’t want to contaminate his by using it to cook meat.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll roast a duck.  That’ll show him. The trouble is that it’s hard to start a fire with just logs.  You need some kind of kindling, and there’s nothing in the house that will do.  I did too good a job sweeping it clean of leaves and other debris.   “Katniss”, I hear him call out.   “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking my fish like you said I should.” Footsteps approach and I know by the shadow that falls across the room that he’s standing at the entrance.   “Look, this is ridiculous.  Come and cook the fish out here.  I’ve finished heating the beans.  The fire’s all yours. I’m sorry if it came across as judgmental. It’s just something I feel strongly about but I don’t expect you to feel the same.  You should enjoy your fish.”   Somewhat mollified, I rise from my crouched position by the hearth to follow him outside.  But then he ruins it.   “And, anyway, there shouldn’t be two fires when one will suffice.”   “You shouldn’t have made a new fire in the first place,” I return hotly. “Doesn’t it say somewhere in your camping books that you should always use an existing site rather than make a new one? And I’d already stacked it with wood.” “I didn’t want to smoke out . . . Katniss, just get out here before I come in and carry you out.  You’re being childish.”   “I’m being childish?” I screech indignantly.   He’s blocking my way, but I go to push past him.  “What about – “

My words are suddenly cut off by his lips on mine.  One arm encircles my body to pin my arms to my sides while the other cradles the back of my head.   I struggle briefly but it’s a token attempt and he knows it. The kiss goes on for a long time.  “Go cook your fish,” he whispers against my lips.   And then he pushes me gently outside. My fish is delicious.  I stuff the inside with wild herbs and pan fry it gently so that the skin crisps but doesn’t burn.  It would go well with roasted katniss roots and I decide to search for some tomorrow.  Marcus shouldn’t have a problem with katniss roots since they are plants.  That is, unless plants are protected in a national park too.  Perhaps I shouldn’t risk it.  But then I think of the kiss, so maybe I will.  My appetite has been whetted for something else besides food.

I wonder if I’m a bad person for having lustful thoughts about Marcus.  Only days before I was having them about Peeta. I would have given anything to have him sweep me into his arms, tell me that it was really me he had loved me all along and that Lace was a terrible mistake he’ll regret for the rest of his life, and then make passionate love to me.  And to be honest, I still would.  But that’s impossible and there’s no sense in thinking like that anymore. I’m twenty years old, a virgin, and the most I’ve ever done is kissing, and there’s been very little of that in recent years.  It dawns on me that I’m starved for physical affection.  And not just affection either.  I want sex.  Hot, unbridled, to-hell-with-the consequences sex.  Like the sex Celia had in that silly show “One Life to Live.”  Not the sandwich thing though.  Oh, who am I kidding, I almost feel reckless enough to try that too. I’ve nothing to lose.  Certainly not Peeta.  And I know Marcus wants it, only he’s too much of a gentleman to push me any further than where I put a halt to it the other night. I’m the one who’s going to have to make a move, then.   Only I don’t have the first clue how to go about it. While Marcus is occupied cleaning cooking utensils, I sneak inside the concrete house and push the sleeping mats together. I hope he gets the hint.  I hold my hand to my mouth to check my breath. I should brush my teeth.  The rest of me could do with freshening up too.  I take from my pack a toiletry bag and a large wash cloth that doubles as a towel and pad out to the lake.  Marcus has disappeared somewhere, maybe to find a tree a suitable distance away.  He doesn’t like to pee too close to a water source.   Dusk has fallen, but there’s still enough light to make out my surroundings.  I set my things by the lake’s edge and remove my shoes and socks.   I dip a toe in to test the water.  It’s freezing.  A sponge bath then.  I brush my teeth and then remove my shirt to wash under my arms.  But it’s hopelessly inadequate.   I want to be clean all over. Hurriedly, I take off all my clothes, grab the bar of soap (eco-friendly, of course), and wade out far enough until the water is past my thighs.   It’s the fastest bath I’ve ever had.  Soap, rinse, get out.  It’s not the cold so much that makes me rush, it’s the thought of Marcus coming across me naked.  Which is really stupid, because I hope we both are by night’s end.  But since there’s still no sight of him, I relax a little and take my time toweling myself dry.  I forgot to bring something to change into and since I don’t want to put my dirty clothes back on, I bundle everything together and dash towards the house. I’ll put something on when I get inside. “Enjoy your dip?” asks Marcus.   The logs in the fireplace have been lit and the small room flickers with light.   He raises his eyebrows as he takes in my appearance.  I’ve stopped dead at the entrance, clutching my bundle of boots, clothing and toiletry bag close to my body.  I raise it higher to cover my breasts and then hastily lower it again when I realise I’ve exposed my crotch.  What a disaster! “It was cold,” I stammer out.   “Come by the fire and warm up then.”  

He moves aside to make room for me.  It does look inviting.  He and the fire both, actually.  I hesitate as to what I should do about my unclothed state.  There’s nowhere to hide in this small, single-roomed house: no shadowy corner, no curtain or door.  And it’s not like I can move without flashing my backside too.  I hesitate for a few seconds, undecided, but then somewhat incongruously, a naked Johanna in an elevator comes to mind. What would Johanna do?   She’d likely go stand naked by the fire as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.   I recall that Marcus paid her no mind when she stripped in front of him.  Female nakedness apparently doesn’t faze him.  It’s no big deal then.  He’s already seen everything anyway.  And I do want to have sex with him.   What message does it send if I can’t wait to cover up?  So I decide to do something completely not myself.  I drop my things in a corner and go to stand beside him in front of the fire.  If it’s possible to blush all over, then I accomplish it.   To ease the tension, I blurt out the first thing I think of.   “I thought you said a fire in here would smoke us out.”   That’s great, Katniss.  Start an argument, why don’t you?   You want to seduce him, not fight with him. “I was wrong,” he says mildly.  “You know this place far better than I do.  I should have taken my cue from you.” “Yes, you should.  I mean should’ve.  About the fire . . . and other things.”  My eyes go to the sleeping mats, as close together as you can get them.  Suddenly I have the jitters.  It’s part excitement, part panic.  What if he doesn’t want to have sex with me after all?  I’m going to feel like the biggest fool.   “I won’t make that mistake again.”  He lays a hand against my back and trails it slowly downwards until it comes to rest on my hip.  “Your skin feels hot.  You shouldn’t stand so close.” I let out a nervous giggle.  “I’m the girl on fire, remember?  I love some heat.”  Shit, I can’t believe I said that.  It was so bad.   “Where else you do like to feel hot?”   The hand on my hip moves upwards, skimming my waist, and then over my ribs to cup my breast and lightly stroke the nipple.  “Here?”

“Yeah,” I say weakly.  

Desire puddles between my legs and I forget about being nervous.  I just want him to keep doing what he’s doing.  

He turns me towards him and both arms go around me.  He dips his head to trail open kisses along the side of my neck.  “Here?”  

“Mm.” I clutch at his back to help me stay upright.  My legs seem to have trouble supporting me.  

“And here?”  He takes each nipple in his mouth by turn, nibbling gently.  And then he kisses me, slowly and sensuously like we all the time in the world.

“Bedroom,” I whisper into his ear.  But before we take the half-dozen steps to our sleeping mats, there’s something I have to tell him.  

“I haven’t done this before,” I confess.  I don’t want him to think I do this kind of thing every day.

“I know.”

“How?”  I pull back, prepared to be affronted.  Was my seduction technique so bad?  As far as he knows, Peeta and I had been lovers.  We were going to have a baby!

He stops my mouth with another kiss.  “I just do.”

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 14

Sorry of the long absence, my friends! Enjoy!

Rage was an acid burn in the back of his throat. His hands shook with it. He staggered into the bathroom, holding a dishtowel to his throbbing eye. That tricky little cunt! How had she held onto that pen knife? Ramsay let the soaked towel thump on the bathroom counter, watching thick drops of blood patter in the sink.

“Fucking Lorathi bitch,” he muttered, peering at the damage in the rust-spotted mirror. It was a fucking miracle that whore Shae hadn’t blinded him. The pen knife had sunk in and stuck just above his right eyeball, jiggling around in the socket.  Each jiggle sent a bolt of white-hot pain arching through his skull. Under normal circumstances, if a target had pulled something like that, Ramsay would have taken them home. Played all sorts of fun games with them until they begged for death. Shae’s little stunt had surprised him though, and he’d snapped her neck.

Too quick.

Not to mention he didn’t get the answers his boss wanted. Add to that leaving buckets of his blood at the crime scene . . .

Ramsay snarled a string of foul words. He held a wad of petroleum jelly-soaked gauze in one hand. With the other, he grasped the hilt of the pen knife. Pain arched like lightning through his skull. The blood made the handle slick. A quick yank---fuck! His hand slipped. Ramsay bit down on the bloody dishtowel and yanked again. The penknife fell free along with a hot trickle of blood running down his face. His boss wanted that bitch Daenerys Targaryen dead, and Ramsay never forfeited a contract. Her and Jon fucking Snow would die slow. Ramsay would flay them living, like his ancestors before him. Just because one lead had burned out didn’t mean the trail was cold. Just like his beautiful vicious dogs, he’d pick up the scent. It was just a matter of time.              

 ~

 As the sun set, there was little to look at to occupy her mind. Just darker landscape framed against a dark sky. Nothing but an eerie stretch of highway lit by the car’s headlights. The silence within the car was leaden. She couldn’t find words to ease the tension. Barry was dead. He’d been a steady, comforting figure in her life. He’d been her father’s bodyguard since she was a toddler—the only one Vis held in any esteem. So when they at last had enough capital to require and afford a security detail, a then-retired Barry Selmy was first on their list.

Daenerys felt the press of Jon’s anxious glances. Her misery deepened. Jon. Gods, what danger had she put him in? If Barry Selmy, a decorated war veteran and professional bodyguard couldn’t stay alive around her, then what would happen to Jon?

“We’re still about twenty minutes from the cabin. Maybe try and rest,” Jon said. A half dozen snarky comments rested on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. She was too anxious to sleep, too miserable to be any sort of companion.

“I don’t think I can sleep.” Her voice sounded weak and small. Daenerys studied his profile in the murky half-dark. A frown lingered on his brow, his generous mouth thinned into a hard line. Jon glanced over at her, his eyes as black as the sky beyond.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. Daenerys blew out a steadying breath.

“Well, De—Detective Seaworth said that Rakharo is doing ok. Vis is safe; he’s staying at Dragon with his security detail. Missy and her husband Grey are ok. There haven’t been any more threats or leads. And . . . and Barry’s family are t—taking him home to Harvest Hall for burial.” Tears clogged her throat. Going over it in such bloodless detail made it sound so bleak. Her life was in fucking shambles. Jon reached for her hand. Daenerys wove her fingers through his, squeezing his hand gently.

“Hey, it’ll be ok. They’ll figure it out. It’s their job,” Jon said.  They drove in silence for a time. The tires made a low whoosh against damp pavement.

“Did the detective say anything else? Do you know if anyone’s been by my apartment? Checked on Sam and Gilly?” Daenerys thumped her forehead against the window. What kind of self-centered ass was she? Jon had no less at stake than she did.  

“I’m sorry, Jon. Yes, they’re fine. The detective has a Watchman stationed at your apartment complex just in case.” Jon tugged her captive hand up to drop a kiss on the back. His beard was a ticklish counterpoint to the softness of his lips. The casual intimacy of the gesture made her heart flutter.

“It’s ok. You’ve got a lot on your mind.” The silence that followed was a warmer one. Daenerys groped for conversation.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to the cabin?”

“I came north for Bran’s nameday, but that was at Winterfell. The cabin . . . hm, it’s been six, seven years? Since before my dad died.”  Daenerys felt a pang. Orphans, the both of them. Ned Stark’s death had been all over the news, but Daenerys couldn’t remember the details.

“Was he ill?” she asked. A muscle fired in Jon’s jaw.

“Brain aneurysm. He died on route to hospital.” The suddenness of it was couched in the abrupt sentence. Much like her own father’s death by violence. Like Barry.  

“I’m so sorry, Jon.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“It’s ok. It was a good trip. The last time we were all together. Sansa came home for the weekend, Arya had just graduated and was headed to uni, Robb brought Margaery and her brothers, Bran was finally finished with physical therapy and Rickon won a sailing medal on the lake.” Daenerys blinked in surprised pleasure.    

“Rickon sails? What type?”

“Uh I’m not really sure. A fast one?” Daenerys giggled at Jon’s aggrieved expression.

“I sail too. Does she have a cabin? Is she designed to sail on open water?” In the greenish light of the dashboard, a trace of a bemused smile graced Jon’s face.

“I think Rickon’s boat is . . . sloopy?” Daenerys snorted.

“Sloopy?” Laughter embroidered her voice. Jon grinned and offered a one-shouldered shrug.

“I don’t know anything about boats.”

“Does he still sail?”

“Not as much. His mother has him enrolled in one of those prep schools for college.”

“Is this the same stepmother who denied you your inheritance?” Daenerys asked. Another uncomfortable shrug was her answer.

“The same,” he said. Daenerys kicked herself. The stepmother was a touchy subject. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like growing up as a motherless boy despised by the only female role model left in his life. Chewing on her lower lip, she offered a tepid apology.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m used to dealing with her,” Jon said, squeezing her hand. Daenerys stroked his knuckle with her thumb. Jon negotiated another turn.

“We’re here at last.”

The pitted concrete road gave way to a smooth asphalt drive. ‘Cabin’ was apparently a relative term. A two-story log structure lorded over neatly manicured grounds. A balcony wrapped around the second floor. Daenerys looked around slack-jawed as the two of them parked and walked up the drive. The lake was a sheet of black glass roughly a hundred yards from the house. Threads of mist clung to the ground. The air smelled of crisp pine and lake water. Insects chirped and far away, she heard the hoot of an owl. The cool peace of it soaked into her soul.

“So, the ‘cabin,’ huh?” she said, framing the operative word in air quotes. Jon cracked open the fake rock holding the spare key, side-eyeing her with a raised brow.

“Is there a problem, ‘Dany Steele?’”

Daenerys snorted.

“Fair point.”

The door creaked open and Jon flicked on the light. Daenerys trailed after Jon as he moved toward the kitchen, drinking it in. Warm blond wood floors, exposed beams overhead, soft lighting, gleaming granite countertops in the kitchen . . . the understated beauty soothed her ragged edges. She turned at the sound of Jon’s low curse.

“What is it?”

“Robb and Margaery. They stocked the place for us, and they uh . . . went a little overboard,” he said, riffling through the fridge, “filet mignon with truffle butter, roasted asparagus, lobster, turtle soup, chocolate covered strawberries--” The subtext was clear: decadent food for a romantic getaway. Daenerys bit back a rush of surprised pleasure. Even if it was meant in a teasing manner, it was a tacit approval from Jon’s brother.

“I told them all we needed some food and clothes. Typical,” he said dryly. Daenerys chewed on her lower lip. In the heat of passion, he claimed her as his. In the cool of parting, he asked her on a date. Why is he so irritated now? Breaking the silence, she cleared her throat.

“Mm, clean clothes sound wonderful. I think I’ll take a shower,” she said. Jon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His expression softened.  

“Of course. The master is on the second floor, last door on the left.”

The rest of the house was as rustically chic with polished hardwood floors, stained glass windows, and glass doors leading to the balcony garbed in room-darkening curtains. The large bed beckoned, smelling faintly of laundry detergent. How sweet, they thought to change the linens.  Shopping bags on the dresser bore a post-it note with ‘Daenerys’ written in looping feminine script. Daenerys peered inside.

“‘Overboard’ is right,” she said under her breath. Inside was a heap of blouses, sweaters, jeans, socks, sneakers, heels, and a tangle of what could only be described as slutty lingerie. A flush washed over her. A note was pinned to a sheer black lace bra:

Daenerys,

I got you a couple different sizes. I hope our Jonno is treating you right. Robbie and I would be delighted to have you both out at Highgarden once all this mess is dealt with.

Warm Regards,

Margaery      

Daenerys breathed a soft laugh, clutching the note and bra to her chest. A giddy rush burst in her chest. How surreal could things get? She was on the run for her life from a shadow human trafficking organization, she’d been swept up in the arms of her god-like masseur-turned-bodyguard Jon Snow, and now Margaery Tyrell—an award-winning actress—was buying her lingerie. Daenerys plucked her favorites from the bag of goodies and hurried to the bathroom.

Twin vanities in granite countertops, rustic sconces over the large oval mirror, a faint tang of cleaning chemicals. Robb and Margaery really had thought of everything. The shower boasted two shower heads, the walls made up of grey river rock. Blissfully hot water undid the knots in her muscles. The nature of her life and work made finding female friends difficult, she thought as she shampooed and scrubbed. Even Missy who she considered her closest friend was her masseur at first. So the thought that someone like Margaery Tyrell would be interested in her relationship with Jon was an odd one. Cherishing her crush on Jon, it was easy to spin a fantasy of making their leisurely way south. Stopping at charming bed and breakfasts on the way, taking a barge down the Mander, a wine tour of the Reach district . . .

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, taking special care to comb and moisturize and primp with all the lovely products Margaery left for her. Ah, the silky glide of high-end moisturizer. It felt good to blow her hair dry until it fell in a fluffy silver cloud around her face. The lingerie was she chose was robin’s egg blue stretchy lace panties and matching bra. Daenerys smiled coyly at her reflection. In between all the madness of being on the run, they hadn’t discussed little things like Jon’s favorite color. Would he like it?

Belting the sash of a terry cloth robe, she saw the heap of her discarded clothes. A thrift store shirt and bloodstained jeans. Stained with Barry’s blood. The happy bubble popped with startling violence. The cost was too high. Already an innocent woman had been violated and killed, then Barry, not to mention the countless people—including Jon—put in harm’s way after the attack in King’s Landing.

“Am I really worth all this?” she asked her steam-blurred reflection. The shadows in her violet eyes held no answers. A soft rap on the door made her start.

“Come in,” Daenerys said, clutching the folds of the robe tight to her chest. Jon appeared in the doorway, his curly hair damp. His dark eyes were fathomless behind the lenses of his glasses. The plain grey t-shirt stretched taut over the bulk of his shoulders, athletic shorts showed off the length thigh and calf. He really was more beautiful than any man had a right to be.

“Do you uh, have everything you need?” he asked. Daenerys hid a rush of hurt. When he suggested the master, she assumed they would be sharing a bed. But maybe time to cool off is what they needed. After hearing about Barry, gods knew she felt depressed and clingy. Not a good look for her.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. Cool and polite, she thought, inwardly congratulating herself. Jon lingered in the doorway, cracking his knuckles one at a time. A nervous habit, she’d noticed.

“Are you hungry? It’s probably a crime in culinary circles, but I could nuke some of the steak.” Daenerys grinned at the weak joke.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Right. Me too.”

A short, uncomfortable silence.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

It wasn’t until he turned to leave that her thin bravado gave way. As inviting as the bed looked, the thought of the long hours until dawn with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her made her stomach clench. That, and she’d gotten far too used to the sound of Jon’s heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

“Jon,” she said. The naked hope in his face calmed her worries.

“Stay. Please,” she whispered. Jon exhaled a breath and gave her a relieved smile.

“Of course. I just didn’t want to impose . . .”

“Impose? Are you joking? We’re standing in your family’s cabin and I’m wearing clothes your brother’s girlfriend bought for me. If anyone is imposing, then it’s me,” she said. Jon closed the distance between them and cradled her cheek.

“You’re worth it,” Jon assured her. Daenerys felt a big, stupid smile stretch her face. She turned into his hand and kissed his palm, tasting salt. A shy silence fell between them as they turned down the bed and drew the curtains. Daenerys slid into the bed with a happy sigh. Cool sheets over a downy mattress and a heap of pillows. Better than simple creature comforts was the underlying release of tension. Here the two of them were safe. Safe and hidden in their own private paradise. Jon’s gaze wandered over her with a familiar sleepy heat.

“I like the clothes,” he whispered huskily, trailing a knuckle over the lacy strap of her bra. Daenerys gave him a coy smile.

“Really? Does it give you any ideas?” she said. Jon’s hand disappeared beneath the duvet.

“Lots of fun ideas,” he said with a wicked smile.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DAVE! You’ve been accepted for the role of EDMUND. Admin Rosey: There's something that makes Edmund such a powerful figure in his own right and Dave, I don't know how but you managed to capture it in the span of this one application. The prose, the voice, all of it was present from the plot points to the interview. His voice was so very poignant throughout the whole thing it made my heart ache a little. I am well and truly enthralled by the Edmund that you have presented to us and cannot wait to watch you dive deeper and show us what makes this boy who he is and how he'll give Verona a reckoning to be feared. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Dave

Age | 23

Preferred Pronouns | He/him

Activity Level | On average a few hours every other / every third night. I have kids so it will likely be after I put them to bed.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp? | My sister Kat lead me in your direction

IN CHARACTER

Character | Edmund / Easton Craven

What drew you to this character? A man built from resentment, bones compressed from the ashes of an others mistakes, a cold structure of stone engraved with rage. Teeth that never unclench, a jaw so tight it threatens to break into fragments. Animosity is the dangerous life raft holding together a bitterly broken character, mania stemmed from a lifetime of repudiation. An obsession potent enough to cover years of aching ribs; the soft tissues under the bones filled with a fire harrowing enough to stifle hurt. He craves revenge as if a child reaching out to their mother. Comfort being found in the promise of reunification. If only he could reach, if only his stiff limbs would meet the soft, consoling ones that he felt reciprocating the assignation, he would feel peace. Delusion of contentment driving passionate precision, carefully planned collisions that cause wise, crooked smiles that meet the eyes of madness.

He knows the storm is raging. The thorns sprouting from his blooming roses; depriving the buds of the little sunlight they initially had. He’s feeling just as suffocated and trapped now. Everything around him is whirling in the chaos he created but he won’t let it break him. Even in the blinding darkness he makes himself big, thrashing about so that even those who can see clear as day stay far from his reach. He lives with the actions of a stubborn child; allowing the haze of red fury to cloud his mind as he surrenders his better judgment. Every time he drink the poison he loses another piece of himself to make room. The pressure builds inside of him like a volcano and when he erupts; his pride and joy are the only casualties. He’s sacrificed everything for his cause, his battle cry drowning out the grief but he’s no longer even sure what threat the enemy poses, forcing a blindness on him more dangerous than the dark.

Taking the risk, stepping up to the plate and taking his best shot. When pressed with his back against the wall, Blood betraying him or perhaps the other way around; what choice is one left with? Perhaps the anger lies only with himself but his innate strength fuels the fire of his inner flames and he utilizes them. He makes these flames dry his tears, forces them to dance beneath the spotline, start forest fires to the granite floors beneath his feet. He uses them as his shield and a deadly weapon all in one curve of his lip. He uses them to carve art onto every inch of the elegantly draped walls that enclosed him so that the world can see how wrongly it had mistaken him, all while making the error of not once giving him the satisfaction of knowing he wields with the strength of mind, unaware of the fear that would bestow his enemies. He fights for himself rather than the cause, drawing those who abandon him back to his wake so that opportunity can present itself in the cruelest twists of fate. He will win back his power, giving himself the choice to crush it to ash or feed it to his fire so that it grows in size. They will beg for remorse, what he will do with them he doesn’t know but someone will burn alive; of that he is sure.

Years of neglect and deprivation leave scars, deep gashes in ego and emotional stability. Easton is broken, deeply hurt by being denied by those who were meant to hold him close, being inevitably punished for the actions of others. To pretend he isn’t aching over his loss would be an injustice. Deeply buried insecurities burrow deep in his bones with the aching torment he shoved away.  Still, anger is a much easier emotion to handle, it carries more dignity, a false sense of self control. There’s something there in that deeply rooted delusion of control, believing it so wholeheartedly that it becomes a reality, that I’m immensely drawn to. An emotional whirlwind with a powerful mind, twisting together in dangerous ways. I see so much potential for him developmentally, so many layers to explore. I really want to be able to flesh that out and bring him to life.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? 

“Yet Edmund was beloved” - Villains amongst disastrous plot, all alike in wicked bitterness. Written to be disliked, to cause mouths to turn down with force, muscles to tense in distaste. A rarity amongst his breed, they found a moment of remorse. Weakness was found and admittance to their sinful deeds, an eager audience was forced to face questions of morality.

I think what makes Edmund throughout literature to stand out so strongly was his repentance. It was a rare quality among Shakespeare’s literature and it’s something I feel is important to keep intact to his plot. It made its audience question whether he was truly a cold, cruel man or if he it was driven by a misdirected desire to be accepted. It’s a theme I plan to show throughout the plot, but I would like a bigger when the time is right to showcase his humanity.

Double edged sword- Sly crooked smiles and sparkling eyes, they crave the game, the slipping of cards into a deck undetected, the chips inconspicuously gathering in front of patiently folded hands. Winning the game does not raise feelings of satisfaction, spirits don’t rise at the chips that twirl between his narrow fingers but at the bitter eyes that narrow in his direction as he does so. Pleasure found only in the woefulness of others, misery causing teeth to show greedily, sparkling eyes falling dark with revelation.

I was to do a lot of scheming with him, a lot. Carefully planned betrayals, shady business deals, cunningly undermining those around him. I want a few of these, and I expect nothing less than a few Enemies as a result.

Blood over blood - Empires built steadily over a name that cursed his existence, pressed him back into a crevasse, covered him thick in wool as if to conceal even the heart that beat within his chest. A name placed on his head as if it were to quench the thirst of question, to satisfy the growing hunger for bloodshed that was soon to breed within the expanding chest below. The indefensible half of the term son. Cast down upon with fury and iron fists by all but his counterpart. Antipathy baking in the fires that nestled between fragile ribs, desperately attempting to replace the warmth his brighter half consumed without question or consideration. Confliction of blood contemplated incautiously.  Blood had betrayed him, or perhaps it was the other way around.

There is a lot to be said about Easton’s relationship with his brother. I feel there is true feelings buried deep under the poisonous vines he’s planted within himself. I think it is the single relationship that will reveal that rage is used to cover fear, fear that stems from loss and betrayal.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? | “Places are places, are places.” Words fell from casually loose lips, flat muscles and eyes rested upon his face as he took in the response of his interviewer, gave himself a moment to enjoy their frustration, the needle of his words knitting the space between their brows together. A dilatory moment of this passed before his lips unsheathed far too-perfect teeth. “The twelfth night.” Amusement laced his words in a way that sounded like a chuckle, spread far across his face to meet his eyes like beams of sunlight, brightening the pale skin it touched. Eyes casually emigrated to the cuff of his sleeve, long narrow fingers fiddling to straighten the small metal clasp that held it in place. ‘Home’ felt like an obvious answer, one that comes from a place deep within one’s soul, one given from utter personage. It was a word used to describe a dwelling of comfort, safety. Ah, but no person or place provided such a vast sensation. All that resided there was a bitter taste that weighed him down as strongly as desire did. He found himself on those places, however pesky, simply prioritized. “I like art.“ He added, blue orbs flickering up from under thick dark brows. There was a great truth in this set of words and yet in the cruelest twist of fate and fallacy he continued with an almost crude sense of humor. "And other historical entertainments."

What has been your biggest mistake thus far? I "Ah, mistakes.” Air left eager lungs as if to sound off sighs of relief. As if voracious for the topic, his lungs pulled in another large breath. “I can attest to many, many mistakes.” It was a topic that engulfed his life, his very breaths taken in vain of the word. It echoed off the walls of his skull, pounding itself into the bone it reached, engraving the term ad nauseum so that he could never forget. “My greatest mistake is the sins of another. Unfortunately, all my own will seem pale in comparison. Boring really.” Far too warm hands folded over his knees, well-practiced politeness plastered across his features. “But I’m sure I’ll even the score eventually.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? I  “Difficulty stems from incompetence.” Bold statements were made from confidence, a strong belief that burned in his chest. Neatly trimmed fingernails tapped the dark stained wood of the armchair he poised himself in, Hack stretched out against the opulently draped bolster. Many difficult tasks had been asked of him, several that flashed about his mind in a rapid myriad, pressed up against his smooth forehead so that the pressure built like cotton. Difficult not in question of morality but in the conflict of agenda.  The undertakings themselves brought little burden to his mind but the consequences must always be taken under consideration. The butterfly effects that carried with each accord left the stains of spots on his own broken wings. None were to be taken unnecessarily. “I suspect you aren’t accusing me of that.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? I “The war between the two?” Vibrant eyes narrowed with the flow of words from his parted lips. As if the question brought some offense, pierced through a more obvious concern, a more prominent affair.  It was much easier separated into two parts of one whole, easier but untrue to the nature of this particular footing. To new eyes, the crimson stains would seem so easily poised from a clear separation, Capulet and Montague. Ah, but Easton’s eyes were nor new or untrained. They had seen the blood that pooled from open veins, the carnage and rot that baked in the warm midsummer sun. He tsked as if to scorn the ignorance of those who would ask such. You could not start a book from the middle, nor could you an end. Blight had long held the minds of those from each party. Betrayal bubbled and burst from within each seam, pressed at authority and delegation alike. “It’s easier to blame others for our actions, surely.” As if talking to a child he turned his lips down, the incomprehension something of an irritation, the need for explanation an inconvenience to his own time. “Do you not consider the wars amongst ourselves?”

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

(this is a kinda lot? and not something a situation i see happening incredibly often at all but I write it nonetheless so I included it)

A dream is defined as a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during a state of unconsciousness. This was otherwise known as sleep. The term would never relate to himself, however, as sleep was a luxury only available to the poor, the deprived. The same word, conversely, is a wild or vain fantasy. This definition seemed more appropriate when associating the word, dream, to himself. Wild and vein, indeed. His egotistical nature seemed to be everywhere at once as he closed his eyelids. It burned there in the pictures that were painting themselves in his mind. And suddenly it was as if he were hearing his own thoughts. Thoughts, that seemed obscure and twisted to himself muffled by choking screams. Ah, but his mind was not absent at all. In fact, the image that was painting itself in his mind was both behind his eyelids and in front of them. It was as if his dreams poured out from his mind to spill on the floor. Or more suitably, nightmares.

Air flared his nostrils, filling his lungs with a sudden force so powerful it was audible as he opened his eyes, his rough thumb trailed the skin on the side of his mouth with anxiety as he turned. Deep-set eyes were thoughtful, dark brows pulled together in a pucker from a tilted head that stares down the man who was bleeding out on his new carpet. He looked as if he hadn’t noticed, not the man bleeding, not the ruined carpet. Easton knelt down beside him, his lips pressed together as he flicked his phone back on. “Have you seen this girl?”

His voice was too casual, too kind for the scene, too worried. Headlight with adrenaline, the preternatural display causing reality to feel more like a hallucination. The other didn’t look up, clearly too occupied with the blood that came up with every cough to entertain the deranged man leaning over him.

“She’s red hot I know.” He said in a breathy chuckle. The sound was innocent, lustful even as he shook his head in disbelief. “She’s slippery though. Always hard to find. Not mine either. Not really my type but-” Easton sighed, slight frustration lacing his tone as his eyes trailed away from the phone to stare at still choking interrogatee.

“You see that’s the thing. She’s been ignoring someone for the past 24 hours, it’s like she completely disappeared.” There in his iris’ you could find a new, growing intensity. It was slow at first, a sense of seriousness that within a matter of words became terrifying, unhinged in the deep pits of his pupils. “Here, take a look at her.” Easton shoved the phone further in the man’s face. The light from the screen reflecting off the red stream, almost close enough to engage in it. He knew very well it still wouldn’t be seen, that the blood pooling in this man’s eyes would have him seeing red, not quite in the way Easton was expecting to himself; certainly, there was more of a disadvantage in it. “She’s beautiful right?”

“Anyway,-” Easton’s tone dropped off again with a sigh, the phone going dark so that the men own eradicated state was staring back at him with a click. “She doesn’t report back last night. No text, no calls, nothing. So people start asking around, when’s the last time people heard from her. We don’t like the responses. You know, there’s something about the tone of a person’s voice.”

Easton stood, the now accumulating sweat from his palms being wiped on his dark crisp pants as he began to pace. “My imagination starts running wild. I start thinking of other guys I’ve seen her look at, other associations she’s hung out with, other friends of hers she doesn’t know we know about. You know, I started thinking about what I would do to someone if I found out that he paid her off. I would shackle the fucker up for a year and I would slowly and systematically torture him every morning and every night till he finally shut down. I mean I would burn off all his fucking skin is what I would do.” Something about the tone of his voice insinuated he was talking to a friend, a casual comfort emulating from him in waves that got cut off by sudden bursts of insanity.

“You know, these are the classifications of things I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about bad things.” Feet were trailing in small circles by this point, shiny shoes walking through pools of claret, dragging it with each pace. A heavy sign caused the motion to stop, silence falling in its place as crystal slowly rose to Easton’s lips, a thoughtful sip seeming to bring him back to his purpose.

“So, do you recognize her?” He waited a long moment. “Hm?”

“Yea.” The man responded in response in a choke. Easton quickly rushed to kneel by his side again. “You do?” He asked eagerly, his chest beginning to rise and fall with expectations.

“Uh, Yeah, I see her around sometimes. I mean, I don’t know her, but –” His eyes focused on almost anything but Easton’’s face but Easton kept moving his eyes into the line of sight.

“Hard to miss right?” Easton smiled almost confidently, proudly.

“Right.” The other coughed out again, his fluids seeming to stay inside him for once. The stench of iron and violence still fresh on his breath.

“It’s the little things that get you, the arguments. There had been this little spat about nothing – I don’t even remember what and then poof, she’s out the door, she’s gone. You know where she goes?” Easton didn’t give a moment to respond. “She goes to your side of town.”

“Really?”

Heartbeats were becoming more frequent, patience suddenly running low as if they were thin to begin with. The cause wasn’t a lack of control but a lack of interest. The cards were being dealt too slowly,  passion only residing when there was something to be won. The room already smelled like victory and the fight he received in return was none. The anger now came from a place of disappointment. “Yea.”

Suddenly his voice was getting louder, quicker. The urgency became something of a result of annoyance twisting around his chest, crushing his ribs. Easton’s face flushed red, pressing closer to the others, enclosing some of the space between them with a furious gaze.

“She goes over to that shit hole. She sends a text that she found her friends and then that’s it, that’s the last time she’s heard from. And you know what? I know some of these ‘friends’ over there and you know what they tell me? They tell me she goes over around 1 AM and then doesn’t come back – So she comes in, but doesn’t come out. At least not through town.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as he caught his breath. His tone finding another spasm of normality. His finger lifted, head tilted to the side as brows furrowed once more. “You were down their last night, right?

Easton’s company simply nodded in reply, cringing at the pain that seemed to ache through his muscles at the action. Easton’s head nodded in return, lips tight as he took in the words. “Did you see anything?”

“Did I see anything?”

“Yea, did you see anything.”

“Did I see anything?  I don’t see much of anything ever.“

Easton stared at him for a moment as if he were taking this in.

“Right, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

I am pretty dyslexic so larger bodies of text tend to get grammar and spelling mistake. They are usually minor and people usually have no issue comprehending my work but if there ever is an issue I just ask that you let me know so I can fix it!

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Part 2: The Hand That Binds

READ Part 1: Pride or Clan

When he had settled against the mat, gaze still locked with Miho’s, she rose her voice.

“Everyone out.”

There wasn’t a whisper, not single question or objections. The Li filed out under guard, until Victor and Miho were alone.

“I imagine that was far more painful than taking those arrows still sticking out of your chest,” Miho mused, dropping her formality and approaching him slowly. “Humility is not something your clan is known for.”

“Perhaps not,” Victor responded, tracking her advance until she stood directly in front of him. “But I am not my father.”

“No, you’re not,” she smiled, sitting herself down cross-legged. “And for that reason, I am willing to offer my support. The Li stand upon the precipice of destruction, an end – no doubt – Lucien Xu would love to bring about that same future for all who refuse to bow before him, myself included. I like to think that makes us allies.”

“Allies with a broken clan?” he said – not confused, but skeptical with her word choice.

“So, shall I dispatch reinforcements to your capital?” she offered, completely ignoring his question. “No doubt Lucien is already marching there to complete his campaign against you.”

“While I still draw breath it will never be complete,” he declared, his inhale rasping loudly.

“By the look of things, that may not be much longer without medical intervention.”

“I will rest when my people are safe,” he asserted, his glistening brow twitching.

Before he could drive the arrows further into his body, Miho caught his forward listing body.

“Gavin,” she said quietly, and the ninja appeared as if form thin air. “See the good lord to a state room and ensure he lives.”

 Stretching her arms, Miho exhaled a long breath. Within her private quarters, she could be more relaxed, for those who were allowed inside had her closest confidence.

“It went well then,” Jazz smiled, padding on bare feet from the shadows and touching a warm hand to Miho’s left cheek. “Still a little tense though.”

“A little difficult not to with war on our doorstep and the new leader of a rival clan wheezing bloody lungfuls next door.”

“He is next door?” Jazz murmured, brushing her fingertips down Miho’s neck and across her shoulders as she stepped behind the other woman. “I suppose we shall have to be quiet then.”

“That would be polite,” Miho sighed, closing her eyes, allowing herself to be tugged back toward the futon, onto which she sat. “Are we polite?”

“Me?” Jazz chuckled in Miho’s ear, stripping away part of the Fujiwara leader’s robe. “Definitely. You, not so much.”

“And Liana?” Miho prompted, suppressing a shiver as Jazz began to lightly trace the edges of her fingernails against her skin. “Where is she?”

“She returned shortly after you convened in the hall,” Jazz answered. “And now she is no doubt reminding Gavin what he missed while out following your orders,” Jazz answered, beginning the press of her thumbs into Miho’s rigid muscles.

“His greatest fear – being without her,” Miho laughed, wincing as Jazz put pressure on a particularly sore spot.

“Oh, I think his greatest fear is having to share her with you,” Jazz corrected, softening the accuracy of her ‘therapy’ with the gentle touch of her lips.

“Hmm, yes I suppose it might be,” Miho agreed thoughtfully, huffing a loud breath. “You think I should allow them to be together.”

Not a question, a statement.

“I think their bond is genuine,” Jazz replied diplomatically. “And worth nurturing.”

“Fine,” Miho dropped, getting up to wriggle out of the rest of her clothing. “I do not have time for a harem now anyway.”

When she was naked, Jazz stepped up to swathe her in a delicate night-robe, one much the same as she herself wore.

“I am going to need you to work harder, Jazz,” Miho admitted, taking the pale woman’s face between her hands. “The Xu will finish with the Li in short order, then Lucien will set his sight on our mountains. Strong as I am, as my armies are, if we cannot break through his ability to protect his forces against attack, we shall fail – just like Victor.”

Ever so slightly, Jazz nodded, and with a rare, relieved smile Miho kissed her lightly.

“But for now,” Jazz winked, lacing her fingers through Miho’s and giving her a tug back to the futon, “let us forget about Victor and Lucien, and think only of us.”

A suggestion Miho gladly followed.

 ______________________________________________

The morning was bitter with cold, and Miho had risen before the sun. She checked in with Liana and Gavin, who like her, were early to rise for training – despite how strenuous their night-time activities may have been. There were no excuses, no explanations and no fear from them when she interrupted their sparring session, despite the fact Miho had expected Liana to be present with Jazz the evening prior.

They knew if Miho had an issue with their increasingly frequent liaisons, she would have intervened when Gavin first showed an interest. The head of the Fujiwara Clan had a reputation for many things, running her affairs in the face of many societal norms among them.

Still, they were careful to show no measure of impropriety in public spaces.

“Lord Victor,” she prompted, addressing Liana. “I take it he is still alive?”

“Difficult to discern, My Lady,” Liana replied seriously. “The man is so cold; alive, dead, there does not appear to be much of a difference.”

Making little attempt to hide her amusement, Miho gave Liana a light tap on the arm.

“I need you to assist Jazz until further notice,” she said and Liana nodded without hesitation, though Miho was not oblivious to Gavin’s sideways glance. “And I want you to be Lord Victor’s shadow when he is from my sight.”

“You plan to keep him close?” Gavin queried, a little warily, and Miho waved her hand dismissively.

“Everyone must make sacrifices if the clan is to survive the Xu scourge,” she reasoned casually, wriggling her fingers theatrically in the air.

Her face the very picture of carefree.

“My Lady,” a soldier greeted. “Lord Victor is requesting your presence.”

“Duty calls,” Miho sighed, but pointed at Gavin as she stepped away. “I want to be able track the Xu to the last arrow - every hoof in the dirt, every mouthful of rice.”

“Without fail,” Gavin nodded, and had disappeared as if never there.

 After her arrival was announced, Miho entered one of several staterooms used for hosting visiting nobles. Therein she found Victor sitting upright, his otherwise bare chest bound around and cross-ways.

“I am no physician, but you should be resting,” she scolded, despite the crispness of Victor’s demeanour. “You do your clan no favours plunging headlong into an early grave.”

“No, resting in the den of a…” Victor replied, but cut himself off.

Miho’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh, please do continue,” she encouraged, brightly. “It would seem a single night and the best of my medical personnel have worked wonders for your humility.”

Receiving her message, Victor paused to think over a more diplomatic response.

“My apologies,” he conceded, and Miho sat down at the end of his futon.

“Yours is an unenviable position,” she pointed out. “The Xu aside, war has taken its economic toll on your people. Without assistance their suffering will protract until…”

She spread her hands.

“But people are people, Lord Victor,” she went on. “And I would see the misery of your people no more than I would sit idle and endure the misery of mine.”

“And you would allow them to remain, mine?” Victor probed, slowly this time, carefully.

“Well, I’m not sure a hungry child cares who claims sovereignty over her, but if you’re asking whether I intend to pounce on the opportunity to steal your lands? No,” Miho assured him. “The Fujiwara and Li may not be allied, but we’re not enemies, nor do I or my people require expansion. Lucien, on the other hand, is a malice I have no tolerance for.”

Victor took some time to search her face in the wake of this declaration, hunting for duplicity. The world was cutthroat, and clan leaders carried the weight of so many lives it was uncommon for them to not take advantage of any and all chances to increase their influence.

“You look a little confused,” Miho snickered. “Is humanity really so foreign a concept to you?”

“Foreign, no,” he answered. “It was simply not the way I was raised. Were our roles reversed, I cannot say I would be so magnanimous.”

“Will you look at that,” Miho laughed. “A compliment. Have you perhaps developed a fever?”

“You may take it that way if you wish,” he nodded, adjusting the way he sat with a small grimace. “However, it was intended to express puzzlement.”

“Well, you don’t need to truly understand my motivations to benefit from them,” she assured.

“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged. “But I cannot believe your actions will come without cost. If I am not mistaken, Lucien offered you peace.”

“Some skewed version of it,” she confirmed. “Buuuuut, he won’t be able to bind my clan or me in that fashion now.”

“Through marriage, you mean?” Victor sought in clarification, and Miho nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have great affection for my concubines,” she admitted, “I may even love one or two, but for the leader of a clan and for its future, marriage must be an exclusive proposition.”

“I had heard nothing of you taking a husband,” Victor frowned slightly, while Miho’s smile turned into a confident grin.

“Because I have not,” she declared, then narrowed her eyes on him pointedly. “But I will be.”

______________________________________________

Don’t forget folks, comments and commenty reblogs keep a girl writing! I’m also open to, you know, expanding Miho’s collection of concubines for any who have OCs who would like cameos -grins-

[darthrena]

(Your Kisses) Taste like Come what May

Excerpt:

“I promise you will love her.  She’s funny, smart, absolutely gorgeous–Just one date is all I am asking.”

“What has gotten into you all of a sudden.  Is this girl on the run from ICE or something?”

“Armie asked me to marry him.”

Ben felt his world collapsing.  His mild amusement long forgotten under the weight of a thousand unspoken words, missed opportunities, and imagined confessions.

Rose’s voice seemed to come from far away.  "Ben?  Aren’t you going to say anything?“

Ben swallowed, forced his throat to produce sounds other than screaming, or worse, a sob.  Oddly, when his mouth felt capable of speech, it was a faint rasp, no hint of the tempest which roiled within.  "Congratulations.  You deserve to be happy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Summary:

Ben, Rose and Hux grew up together.  Ben loves Rose, but Rose and Hux are together.  After Rose and Hux become engaged, Rose tries to set Ben up with her friend Rey.  He reluctantly agrees to go on a date.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A step over the threshold and the familiar creaking of wood, weakened by time and salt-air, and aroma of hearty chowder and ale engulfing his senses, Ben knew he made the right choice.

Nestled between a trendy Korean tapas place and a shoe repair shop with flaking blue paint Ben could recall from his childhood, Takodana was sedate even on a Saturday night. Eclectic knick knacks ranging from a Rico Petrocelli bobblehead, a 1984 Bruce Springsteen poster yellowing at the edges, a carved wooden mask allegedly depicting a warrior of Venezuelan origin, to vibrant weavings of alpaca wool, lined the walls and cluttered the entrance way. Questionable decor aside, the whiskey, unpretentious beef stew, fries and a decent chowder on the menu had long ago made it Ben's favorite bar.

The proprietress, Maz, eyed him from beneath thick rimmed glasses and a bevy of judgement as he slipped into his favorite booth across from the bar. "Ben Solo," she drawled, giving little reassurance in either tone or posture, hands on hips and brow arched.

"Hey Maz," he greeted warily, as Maz stepped from behind the counter.

At last the petite lady put him out of his misery. "I ran into your mother the other day. Said you haven't been home since Christmas."

Right. It wasn't like Ben was avoiding his mother, at least, anymore than usual.  After quitting his job, and getting away from Snoke's insidious manipulations, it had been cathartic almost, reconciling with his mother and Uncle.  your father would be proud, his mother's voice hoarse with tears of grief and pride.  As lovely and neat as the story would appear on the cover or told over dinner parties when his mother was three Merlots in and giving him meaningful, tearful glances--prodigal son returned home and joined his mother's firm--things were still a bit strained.  Their specialties of law differing as they did, weeks could go by without seeing his mother at the office.  Ben made a concerted effort to call his mother once a month, or at least have Kaydel order her flowers or a bottle of wine when he couldn't bring himself to.  "I've just been busy," he mumbled, unable to summon even a modicum of coolness in the face of such obvious disapproval.

Maz tutted at the flimsy excuse, but seemed to relent slightly, moving back toward the bar.  "It'll be the usual then?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned but for the hub of other patrons chatting and the slight clink of glass as Maz's weathered hands deftly prepared his usual starting drink, an old fashioned.

Maz brought him his drink, laying it down on a lacy, crocheted coaster.  "You want the stew?  I also have a Saturday Chowder."

Ben twitched a smile.  "What makes it a Saturday Chowder again?"

"It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"So just the regular chowder then?"

The spry old lady made a swatting motion with a ladle nowhere near impacting him.  "Don't be fresh with me, Benjamin Organa Solo."

"Oh I wouldn't dare."  Ben took a savoring sip of his old-fashioned.  It was perfect as always.

Maz was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye that should have been a warning of the subject she had been warming up to.  "Just like your father, you are."

Ben forced himself to keep his shoulders from tensing.  It was easier now, breath in, breath out.  When he spoke, however, none of the grief and anger that had once roiled like an summer storm within him escaped.  "I guess so."

"You should go next week, Ben."  Maz's voice was so very gentle.  "Your mother needs you."

"I'll think about it."  Ben cleared his throat.  A burning feeling was crawling up his chest to gouge his eyes.  A judicious sip of his drink doused it slightly, but a distraction was welcome.  "I'll think about the Saturday chowder too.  Hux is joining me though, so I'll wait for him to order."

"Alright then."

After a brief pat against his shoulder, Maz went to attend to a middle aged couple across the bar, and Ben was left alone.

Three gnomes and a tarnished silvery ash tray shaped like a crab on the table beside him were his only company.  Ben spared them a slight smile touched with nostalgia.  The crab shaped ashtray had been a favorite as a child, tagging along with his Dad to Takodana on sweltering afternoons.  A whiff of tobacco, his father's gravely voice and lopsided smile, Don't tell your mother we came here instead of the zoo.

Ben had never minded.  Maz gave him coloring books and the best lemonade, sweating over lace doilies.  Uncle Chewie would drop by, ruffle his hair and tell stories about Mara, the Chieftain of Coquivacoa, who fought the Spanish Conquistadores, or of stomping through the rainforests of Java, weakened by Dengue fever and harangued by monkeys.

There was the sound of the bell ringing, a familiar red head ducking beneath a bright colored talisman.  Dark circles starkly shadowed Hux's steely green eyes, but he still lit up in a smile as his long strides brought him to the seat across Ben.

"Solo, sorry for running late.  Rose was piqued at the sudden boys night, and decided to distract me until I divulged the nature of our evening.  Alas, despite her efforts I kept mum."  Hux regarded him with raised eyebrows, a satisfied grin softening the highhanded tone.

Ben tried not to think too hard about the nature of the "distraction," while remarking dryly, "Easy enough when I haven't told you anything to divulge."

Hux remained unfazed.  "I had high expectations the lovely Rey would be featured."

Absurd though the impulse was, Ben felt a current of displeasure to hear his friend say her name so casually.  "You've met her?"

"Of course.  Rose has had her over several times.  As a fellow countryman, naturally I approve, but she's delightful company and holds her liquor well."

He thought back to the other night, of Rey, six drinks in straddling his face as he ate her out.  "That she does."

Old friends that they were, Hux allowed the topic to drop momentarily, waving over an only too happy Maz to place his order.

Food orders taken (Saturday chowder for Ben, the stew for Hux, with fries to share), Maz drew a IPA from the tap, while fixing her eager sights on Hux.  "'heard you finally made an honest woman of your girl.  Congratulations, dear.  Shame Rose couldn't come tonight."

Hux grinned back, the same beatific look he'd been sporting ever since Rose accepted his proposal lightening his naturally haughty features.  It was easier to focus on his glass and slowly diluting brown liquid as the ice melted, than Hux cheerfully accepting Maz's congratulations.  "--tonight's just us.  Rose sends her love."  Shooting Ben a wink he could do without, Hux continued slyly, "Perhaps next time we'll be back on a double date."

Fuck.

Maz swiveled with super human speed to bring the full throttle of her bespectacled gaze upon himself.  "Started seeing someone?" She cooed with feigned casualness than fooled no one.  Already Ben could sense the gears turning--Maz wasn't one for smartphones, but in the next 24 hours he imagined she would be calling on his mother for tea, or using Takodana's ancient rotary if she deemed the matter too pressing.

While glaring at an unrepentant Hux, Ben hurried to deescalate the conversation.  "It's nothing serious.  Hux is just giving me a hard time."

The man himself merely smiled innocently.  "Rose made it sound different.  Perhaps I misunderstood."

Maz seemed a little disappointed, if skeptical, but she left them to bring their orders to the kitchen.

Finally left alone, Hux dropped all pretense.  "Sorry, I had to tease you a little.  But you know Rey would love this place."

Rey would fit right in to Takodana.  It was easy to imagine Rey cozying across the booth, a tequila neat or a Belgian white ale in hand, cheeks flushed and hair loose as she gossiped with Maz and laughed too loud with Rose.  She would love hearing Uncle Chewie's tales that sounded half like fiction.  He could imagine her asking in that charming lilt about all the odd bops and bits in the shop, and telling her about the time he spilled a customer's beer over the velour bar seat or the time first he snuck a sip of alcohol and Dad had just laughed and Dad--

Dad would have loved her.

"Yeah, she would.""Ben..."  He glanced up at the rather serious tone, and solemn look Hux was sporting.  "Did you mean that?  About it being nothing serious."

Did he mean it?  He thought of Rose, smiling sadly as she told him, So do you, you know.  Of Rey's knowing hazel eyes.  You have feelings for Rose, don't you?

"I don't know," he admitted.

There was a sound of huffed laughter from his side.  "Dude, you have it bad."

Ben grimaced.  "Please, don't say Dude."

"Hombre."

"Please stop talking."

"Homie?"

The next couple hours passed in a blur of warm food and easy conversation.  Hux let Ben off the hook for the most part on the subject of Rey.  After Hux had drunkenly complained about the wedding planning for thirty minutes--"Why do we need to have a rehearsal dinner and a wedding?  Why must the party favors match the bridesmaid dresses?"-- Ben surprised himself by bringing it up.  Although, alcohol likely had somewhat to do with it.

"I don't know what to do about Rey."

"You should just call her, mate," Hux slurred with exasperation.

"And say what?" he snapped back.

Hux shrugged.  "I like you.  I want to date you?  Doesn't seem all that complicated."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.  His head felt muddled under the weight of alcohol and confusion of his emotions.  "On our date, I told her that I'm not looking for a serious relationship."

"And?"

"And now I don't know what to do."  Hux was poised to argue again, so Ben cut him off hastily, "I don't know what I want to do."

After a moment's pause, Hux rubbed his face blearily.  "Look, Ben, I think you're overthinking this.  How do you know she's looking for a serious relationship?  She's what, 25 years old?  If you want to see her, tell her you want to see her.  If you want to date her, tell her that."

That seemed...reasonable.

Hux was right.  He didn't have to have everything figured out just yet.

If he wanted to see Rey again, then he should just ask her.

Which was how he found himself standing on the corner as he waited for his cab, dialing Rey's number.

It rang a few times, a length sufficient for Ben's anxiety to stir to life restlessly, before a sleepy voice answered at the last ring.

"Hello?"

"It's Ben."

"Ben!"  The voice sounded much more awake now.  There was a low chuckle that sent a warm, molten pulse through his veins.  She must have been sleeping.  Ben wondered idly if Rey slept bare as she had in his company, or if she wore a ratty t-shirt over panties, if her nipples pressed through the thin fabric.  His fantasies were interrupted by Rey continuing with obvious amusement, "I was following the advice of all those Just Seventeen magazines I read growing up, and planned to text you in the morning.  Seems like it paid off."

"Oh."  Ben considered this information for a moment.  "I read mostly read F&SF.  The fantasy and science fiction magazine.  They didn't offer much dating advice."

Now Rey laughed full out.  "No, I'd imagine not," she replied after catching her breath.

"I want to see you again."

Inebriated though he was, Ben could detect the smile in Rey's voice.  "We literally just saw each other this morning."

"Technically it was yesterday."

"That should tell you something of the appropriateness of your phone call."

Oops.  "Sorry."

There was another huff of laughter over the receiver that briefly whited the sound.  "Look Ben..."

That beginning was not promising.  Nerves bubbling up his gut, Ben was helpless against the flow of babble as he cut her off: "I can't stop thinking about you.  The way you taste.  Your cunt clenching on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come.  And the way you laugh.  Whether you like green tea tiramisu or hate IPAs."

"Fuck, Ben."  There was a weak laugh on the other end, overwhelmed and something else his alcohol impaired brain couldn’t translate.  "Are you always like this?"

"No," he breathed back.  "Not at all.  Never."

"Ben."  Her voice was a sweet sigh.  There had never been a more lovely sound than her lips around his name.  "I want you too.  It's just, well, what about Rose?"

"Rey."

His mind was in free fall.  The ground beneath his feet had slipped away.  What about Rose?  He loved her, didn't he?  He grasped at bits of thoughts, stray feelings, a warmth that was Rose's smile and nose scrunched in glee, and a smoldering burn that was Rey's lips parted in ecstasy--but those sum of parts defied revelation, no, he refused to summate them.  He was vaguely aware of his panicked breathing, but remained in paralyzed impasse.  When Rey spoke, her voice was tentative and gentle and far better than he deserved.

"Ben?  It's alright.  I understand."

"You understand?" he repeated dumbly.  How could she make sense of what he barely comprehended?

"Yes."  There was a pause, and a hitch in Rey's breathing.  "Well, you want something more casual.  I get it.  We had a lot of fun together.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to think it over.  Maybe you should too, when you aren't drunk."

No, that's not what he meant.  Tell her now.  Open your mouth.  "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a pause that stretched on and on.

Then.

"Goodnight, Ben."

His name spoken like a caress lingered in his mind long into sleep.

Also posted on AO3

[a-roomba]

Highway

Jean stood on the side of the road at three in the morning for the third time that week, filling his lungs with acrid smoke. They weren't his cigarettes, he'd just taken them from Matt, and the mix of spices laced through each one burned horribly as he inhaled again. Fucking foreign cigarettes. Turkish, if he remembered correctly. Matt always complained if he had to smoke something else, something about the smell, so there were at least two boxes stashed in his car, full of individual cartons. He wouldn't miss one. Or two. Or five. The burn was just...so good.

It was no secret that Jean didn't mind a little pain. Just enough to be grounding. Enough to pull him back, stop him going on autopilot or forgetting to eat again, because despite the looks Matt always gave him when he said he wasn't hungry, or when he just kept eating snacks and refusing anything bigger, it was an honest mistake, for fuck's sake, and finding him on the floor that one time didn't prove anything, so he just wished the pair of them wouldn't look at him like that, wouldn't slide him food that they had already paid for because apparently he was a fucking child that needed their babysitting (if he was honest with himself, he didn't mind being looked after as much as he said he did, because sometimes he just had no idea what he was doing, and it was nice to have someone more or less tell him what to do).

Obviously he had...other ways to ground himself, but Matt was asleep in the front seat, snoring softly, and nobody else was around right now. So, cigarettes. Matt probably knew he was taking them; those things had a very distinct smell of cinnamon and sweet herbs that wasn't easily mistaken. It was a scent he loved, even looked for when it was briefly buried under a salty tang of sweat as the older man cursed and writhed under his hands or his mouth. It was a scent that at least told him he could make a thousand terrible references, and still get a genuine giggle. It was distinctly Matthew, somehow, refined and unique and a little out of his league. Okay, a lot. But Matt didn't seem to care, and for that, Jean was infinitely grateful. Because even when he was leaning a little on Matt, watching some dumb anime (Matt hated most of them, but he watched them anyway), and he had a gentle hand combing through his blond hair, it still felt like he didn't belong there. But Matt didn't seem to care. And when the thoughts seemed to mount up, he just squeezed Jean lightly until they vanished again.

He always seemed to know what was going on. There was always still that unspoken barrier though, a silent yet mutual agreement that things stayed as they were. Matt would continue to flirt with danger every time he left the damn house, Jean would continue to dance around the issue long after everyone else stopped caring. A fragile arrangement that they weren't going anywhere else. Refreshingly stagnant. Constant. And he didn't want it to be different, since despite the way his heart reacted to Matt's little gestures of kindness, he knew that it wasn't specifically Matthew that he loved. Maybe it was the idea of him? That was something people said. He liked the comfort and the direction and the reliability. Anyone who could give that to him became some kind of deity in his eyes.

Because somehow everything was always shifting and yet he was going fucking nowhere and it had been so long he really didn't know what else to do. Jean wasn't the one who led. He was the one who was shoved into a wall, or had people buying drinks for him, planning his whole life around that week's rota. What even came after...whatever the fuck he and Matt were? How was he supposed to work it? None of it made any sense. Maybe that was the kind of thing parents taught you, but his hadn't been too concerned about that kind of thing. One was off fucking anybody with an alluringly full wallet, the other was probably dead or on his way to it. If not, he better have a good excuse for fucking Jean over like that.

But thinking about that never got him anywhere. Ultimately, he ended up running in circles, looking for answers without actively wanting them. A tiny part of his head refused to let go of the idea that he didn't want them for a reason. That maybe he liked playing the victim, being the most pitiful human being in any given room, drinking in the furtive glances when people thought they were being subtle. People were shitty like that. Jean was shitty like that. But that wasn't something easily solved, because people were just like that, right? Everyone was some kind of shitty, on various levels, and the people who said they weren't were the worst.

Jean resolutely ignored the fact that he frequently said so himself. It doesn't count if you don't mean it.

Funnily enough, it was pain that briefly pulled him from his own head. The cigarette had burned down to his fingers, and he dropped it with a hiss of pain, jamming his burned fingers into his mouth before quickly spitting them back out. They tasted like smoke, all the toxic and disgusting with none of the spice. Like him. Ha ha...

He wanted to be angry. He really did. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to have someone to scream at, even toyed with ideas of yelling at the people just trying to help him (for what? For not giving him enough? For not putting up with enough? They were totally within their rights to dump him and save themselves so much time, so much money, so much effort), but he could never find that flame, that anger, in himself. It had never been there. God knows he'd looked- started meaningless fights and mopped up ridiculous amounts of blood trying to find a tiny spark of rage. But it just wasn't there. Never had been.

He just felt...well, it wasn't exactly clear what he felt, but there was an awful lot of it, and it filled him so much that there was no room for anything else. Sometimes he felt like some of the derelict buildings he liked to paint on. Empty, out of place among projects and complete buildings that were all doing exactly what they were meant to, and just continuing to...exist, while nobody could bring themselves to admit that maybe things would be better if it was knocked down, since all it did was sit there and...exist while there could be interesting new things in its place, actually making something of themselves and being useful instead of just existing-

Shit, when had he started crying? Carefully, gently, Jean wiped them away with his sleeve. Pressing was tempting, but it would make his eyes red. And if someone did see him, he would honestly rather just be able to force out a laugh and say he'd poked himself in the eye. Even though just the thought of laughing made him throw up a little in his mouth. Or maybe that was the smoke.

Eventually, he had to look at himself, just turning on his phone camera rather than go back to the car, even though he knew there was a handheld mirror in there somewhere. Less walking was always good. Optimal for not being sick. God his head hurt. And he looked as wonderful as he felt. No one thing stood out, or seemed out of place, so it was almost as if the misery was shining through his face in barely visible tells that he picked out through the sickly flashlight glow. His eye always twitched a little after he cried. No helping it. Blame it on being tired.

So

fucking

tired.

Everything tired him out now, from getting up to just being around people. Not that he'd ever been a fan of crowds. Always with eyes on him. Realistically, he was one hundred percent aware that none of the people around him actually gave a shit if he bounced his leg too fast or bit his cuffs while thinking, but it didn't stop him whipping his head around as he did it, like a criminal about to be caught in the act. Which was almost funny, considering he could get busted for far worse than being annoying. Thinking like that tired him too. He could take that logic in circles for hours, reasonable ideas quickly drowned out by wave after wave of meaningless junk. Stupid shit that only his stupid brain could throw out. Waves that pushed him very close to an edge he really hated, one that he was terrified of falling from. He'd always hated heights.

And he didn't want to fall, didn't want to be this close to the line. Jean didn't know how long it had been drawing closer, didn't know what happened if he fell, but he knew the line was getting too close.

In truth, the line was many lines. Lines because he was unwanted and lines because he was useless and lines because he knew all of it, but never did anything and lines because he was too tall, he knew it freaked people out, and lines because he wanted everything to be over so badly but he was scared at the mere thought of it so what the fuck was he supposed to do, what did people want, why wouldn't anybody give him a straight answer, because he sure as shit couldn't figure it out!

But he wasn't there just yet. So he calmed himself down. Turned off his camera, then his flashlight. Went through everything in a slow process, like it was his life goal just to make himself function. Each step was an accomplishment. That was how he had to see it. That was how he got through. And it was how he put himself back together, piece by agonizing piece.

Until he could go back to the car. The cigarettes were empty anyway.

[thatsnice13]

Wishing for a better life; Chapter 1

A story of a unhappy trans girl and a lonely genie, helping each other find happiness. Comments and advice welcome and appreciated

Another day, another misery… Alex made her way down the street, hands in her pockets with body and face hidden by a baggy red hoodie. She was walking with no real destination. Just anywhere was better than home right now. Home where no one called her a girl. Home where the name she had tried to throw off was shouted at her from across the room. Only her brother respected her as she was… and he was away at college…

She noticed an odd estate sale in front of an ancient house and decided to give it a look. It was something to do to take her mind off of things at least. Most of the items were just junk, plain and simple. Upended drawers of lightly rusted kitchen gadgets, a ratty old chair that had probably been on the front porch, and… were those old paint cans? Who tries to sell old paint cans?

Her attention was caught by a little table lamp tucked away in a back corner. It was old, and there was no light bulb or shade, but the body of it was clear glass, filled with shards of sea glass in different shades of frosty whites, greens and blues. Just looking at all the pieces made Alex think about all the hours walking along the beach it must have taken to collect them. Hours spent in peace, walking the water’s edge… She couldn’t help but smile thinking about that. Alex gently picked up the lamp and walked over to the woman at the cash box. “How much for this?”

The woman looked up from her phone with an air that said she’d rather be doing anything else “5 bucks kid.”

Alex quickly handed over the money and left with just a brief thank you. She would take being called kid. At least it was better than ‘young man’ like people in school still tried to call her. Not wanting to go home quiet yet, she took the lamp and made her way to the park, knowing from many hours brooding that it was empty this time of day.

She took a seat on the nearest bench and looked closer at her new purchase. She was trying to decide where would be best to put it in her room when she realized the lamp had no plug. “What the?” she said to herself. She held it closer to see if maybe the cord had been tucked away in a secret compartment, moving it gently, but still making the glass jingle a little.

“Well, this was probably $5 down the drain… still it’d look nice in my room even if it doesn’t work…” it was then that she noticed a faint mark on the clear glass under a faint layer of dust. Thinking that the whole thing might be factory made, robbing it of all the charm she had wanted it for, she polished the spot with her sleeve and hoped it wasn’t what she feared. In that moment a light began emanating from the top, as if a bulb were glowing. But there was no bulb.

Frightened, Alex put the lamp down on the bench and took several steps back. A faint sound of laughter seemed to be coming from the light. A sound that was slowly growing as the light grew brighter. In a moment, there was a blinding flash, bright enough it caused Alex to close her eyes. When she opened them again… “No way…”

Sitting on the bench next to the lamp was a beautiful girl. 6 foot tall, toned muscles, lightly tanned skin, bright green eyes and blood red hair tied back in a long ponytail. Her clothes were those of a stereotypical maid, down to the little white lace hat. The girl was laughing and smiling and stretching, “Oh does it feel good to be out in the sunlight again!” Only then did she look about and realize they were outside and see Alex. “Well now, aren’t you a cutie. Tell me, did you buy my lamp off the old man or steal it?”

Alex fell back onto her butt “You… you are… that’s impossible…”

“Impossible things happen every day my dear. But yes, I know what you are thinking, I am in fact a genie. And since you own the lamp and summoned me, I bet you know what happens next!... but first, do you mind if I change clothes? My last master made me wear this all the time, the old pervert…”

“I… yeah… sure…” Alex’s head was still reeling, but… well she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It seemed through the dumbest luck in the universe she had gotten a genie! And what’s more she was so stinking cute! “So… your old master. I’m guessing he’s the guy that owned the house back there?”

The genie snapped her fingers and she was in a set of long sweat pants covered in stars and a plain pink t shirt “Yeah that was him. Dead I’m assuming. The old coot used his three wishes all in one week and then held onto my lamp in his basement for over 20 years. I think he was afraid someone else would use the lamp to undo his wishes. I’m assuming you’ve seen Aladdin right? You know how this works?”

“Yeah I… wait is that really how genie’s work?”

“Basically. Someone on the staff at Disney had ahold of my lamp during that whole ‘renaissance’ thing. Gotta say, it was some of my better work, though of course they had to ruin it.”

“Huh…” Alex took a moment to digest that “So, 3 wishes, can’t wish for more wishes, love, or death. That right?”

“Bingo! Now what’s a cute little lady like you want in life?” The genie asked as she changed her shirt to a light blue before being satisfied with the look.

“Well I… I’m sorry, could you say that again?” Alex had to do a double take. She couldn’t have heard that right.

“Say what? What do you want in life?”

“No… I mean… No one ever knows I’m a girl when they look at me…” she looked down, the depressing memories coming to her again.

The genie got up from the bench and walked over to her new mistress, raising Alex’s head to look at her with a gentle touch. “Of course you are a girl. I can see into your very soul my dear… You’ve had a very hard time recently haven’t you…”

Alex nodded “My family… They say all the stupid stuff you expect. Calling this a phase, accusing me of turning their lives upside down… I don’t suppose… Could I wish that I always was a girl?”

“You can… but I wouldn’t. You always have been a girl, no matter what some doctor said when you were born. That would be a waste of a wish if you ask me.”

Alex blushed a little and smiled. This girl was being nicer to her and showing her more respect than anyone had in a long time. “Well… thank you for being so honest… I’m sorry but you haven’t said your name. What do you want me to call you?”

The Genie paused, surprised by the question “Oh! Well… You see I… Well most of my masters only ever call me Genie… I haven’t really been on a first name basis with anyone in… over a thousand years…. I…” a tear rolled down her face “I can’t… remember my name…”

Alex wasn’t sure why she did it, but she hugged the genie, holding her gently to her body. The red head gasped. It had been over 20 years since she had last felt human touch. She wrapped her arms around the girl and just held her to her body, taking such comfort in the physical contact.

“… Jana. Call me Jana” the genie said after a pause, feeling ready to continue again.

“Alright then Jana. Call me Alex” Alex said with a smile, finally letting go of her odd new magical friend. “Can I ask you something? The whole, free the genie thing, is that real too?”

Jana nodded and sighed “Very true. All genies want freedom, but there are two ways that we can get it. Either wish for freedom, or the master… well… gets tricked into switching places. That’s what happened to me… Some genies get so jaded after doing this so long they love twisting wishes. I wished for magic powers and boy was I given them… Still no use crying over spilt milk.” She grumbled to herself “I wonder what that jerk ended up doing with his freedom… I hope it was worth it.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to think of that “You’ve been doing this for over a thousand years?”

“And counting most likely…”

“Hey now! You never know, I’m not a person that wants very much from life. Two wishes will be more than enough for me.”

Jana looked up at her and was quiet for a moment “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep Alex dear. I like you. It’d be nice to have a friend for a while if nothing else.”

“Alright then… How about this then? I’ll take my time making the wishes. You can have all the time out in world you could want until we figure out what I want. Is that a good place to start?”

Jana nodded, a smile coming back to her face. “It will be nice to live like a human again for a while. Just please keep my lamp somewhere safe. It’s kind of ruin my vacation if I got a new master the first day.”

“Alright… Now you’ll need a place to stay… I think that means I finally need to go home… this isn’t going to be fun…