#and bless that real estate lady she is nice

[doulayogimama]

It's times like these when I'm very grateful for my families "Schitt's Creek" like financial downfall. We lost everything... and we had a lot. My life did a real 180 turn really fast. One year I was shopping for range rovers that my dad would buy me for my 16th bday (true story, barf, lolol) and the next I was living with my grandparents and my parents were on the cusp of divorce.

Instead of getting a job at 16, I started selling all of my expensive designer belongings on eBay. I started selling things for other people too and taking 10% of the sales. Did that through college until I started babysitting.

My family has also embraced the Marie Kondo philosophies before that lady was even born, lmao. Object brings no joy or is of no use? Yay, charity! Or maybe a garbage pile. Either way, no clutter allowed. Clutter = anxiety.

Did I think in a million years we would be in this situation, selling our gorgeous condo not even 1.5 years into buying it? Nope! But c'est la vie. Sometimes you end up with neighbors who are toxic and I can either stay because it's my right or I can sell all my shit and go because I deserve better and life is too short.

We both wholeheartedly chose plan B after realizing this wasn't going to change. I'm really grateful to have a partner that is willing to do that with me, that sees material objects the same way I do. My home is not meant to collect "things" it's meant to be a safe place. And this place where we are now.... definitely not a safe feeling place. Can we afford to buy in the real estate markets we want to live in (nyc/miami)? Nope. But we're jumping anyway and choosing adventure, uncertainty, and joy.

Kevin's mom is very much a lover of things and she doesn't throw anything away and has lived in the same house for 30 years. Sky's room is really pretty, her toys are new and high quality, and she just said "it's such a shame that all of those toys are going to go to waste." I just chuckled at our differences. I'm not going to stay in a toxic place over nice toys or a couch???? Those things don't mean anything.... they are replaceable. S gets so much more joy playing with other kids at the beach or the playground than she does with her toys. No toy has ever captured her attention for more than a week or two. So, who cares??

I don't know, I'm just grateful. My family and I went through a lot of hardship in 2008 but the resilience it instilled in me, the knowing that true everlasting joy never ever comes from things, but from people and your environment. Having a purse or shoe collection brings me no joy. Knowing I can walk away from a bad situation with dignity, despite what I may be losing materially, that does. My husband has never experienced anything like what I have but he still understands and more than that, he's excited to jump with me. He's not attached to anything but his family.

Being run out of town by racist angry neighbors is no ones idea of a good time, but I am fucking strong. My family is strong and we are moving on up. We are blessed and we will leave this place with joy in our hearts despite not having much in the material sense very soon.

[softquietsteadylove]

Ok ok… here me out for a second…

Thenamesh Addams Family AU…

The Lee Family: business associates of Father's who were coming to meet with them over real estate (or some such). Mister Lee dealt in property, and also possessed quite a lot of the railways, according to Father. Missus Lee was as much of a matriarch as Mother, although they were going to talk about their poison gardens, or some other such.

Thena stared at the family standing in the foyer. They were like the picture perfect opposite of herself and her own family. They were dressed entirely in black, even the son in a smart black suit. They had mild expressions but warmer seeming eyes, all a gentle brown.

Mother and Father had perfectly sculpted smiles, but eyes as cold as the tundra. They were dressed in all white, just like Thena was, with her white-blonde hair braided over her shoulder.

"Mister and Missus Lee," Father greeted them with a falsely warm tone. Before they had arrived, he had said that they were horrid people to do business with, despite his very warm tone.

"Such a pleasure," Mother purred as she exchanged air-cheek-kisses with Missus Lee. She had said that she would rather let Theseus - the young iguana currently hiding in Thena's room - sit on her lap than align herself with 'Mister Lee's wife'.

Such walking contradictions her parents were.

"This is our son," Mister Lee smiled more genuinely, putting his hands on his son's (broad) shoulders. "Gilgamesh."

"Pleasure to meet you." He had a soft voice.

Thena stared at the young man. He was big for their age, with a young moustache coming in on his upper lip. Thena's lips twitched; it suited him, in a funny sort of way.

"Gilgamesh," Mister Lee clapped his hands on his son's back as the parents began moving into the drawing room, "greet the young lady properly."

Not that they stuck around to see that it happened.

Thena looked at the young man again, extending her hand, her palm facing the floor. Her face was still impassive, and she hadn't said a word, just like Father always taught her.

Gilgamesh looked at her with some intrigue in his eyes, bending further than he needed to as he accepted her hand in his. He bowed his head completely, nothing short of reverent as he said, "my pleasure."

Thena tilted her head as he kissed the back of her hand. It was gentle, and he even held it softly with his other hand as his lips touched her knuckle. She smiled; she could feel his moustache tickle her skin, "enchante."

"Bless you," he extended a handkerchief.

Thena laughed before quickly raising her hand between her mouth and his eyes. She was forgetting her etiquette with their guest; Mother would be furious.

"What, are you not allowed to laugh?"

Thena looked at him again, and, without his parents to loom over him, Gilgamesh seemed more relaxed. His shoulders were still wider than any she had seen, but they were slouched, his hands in his trouser pockets. She had never seen anyone look so comfortable in their own skin before.

"It's okay," he shrugged as he smiled, attempting to encourage her into doing the same, "I won't tell."

She almost - almost! - let another laugh escape her before fixing her lips into a perfect smile. It was rigid and hard to maintain, but it was the only one she knew how to do. "I thank you for your consideration."

"So, uh," Gilgamesh leaned back just for a second before walking closer to her, away from the doorway where their parents' business mutterings were happening. "We're supposed to...talk, I guess?"

"Indeed."

"Okay," he looked at her, hands still in his pockets. His eyes ran over her, and Thena briefly forgot what she had put on that day (Mother always picked her clothes for her anyway). "What do you wanna talk about?"

Thena blinked. She had read about trains and business economics and stock options all night in preparation to meet the magnate's son. And he was asking her? "Me?"

"Yeah, you," he smiled, even more naturally than before. He had a nice smile. "What do you like to do?"

What did she like to do? What was she allowed to do? Her days were filled with lessons, and then after that, she was left to her own devices. "Sometimes Mother lets me assist her in the poison garden."

"Oh yeah, Ma has the same kind of thing at home," Gilgamesh made a face that betrayed his lack of interest in the topic. "She just gets mad when I'm outside because she always thinks I'll step on it, though."

Thena felt her lips twitch, aching to leave the practised posture of the smile she had on. "Mother is similarly protective of ours. She gets furious when Theseus crawls around in the soil."

"Who's Theseus?"

Again, Thena felt caught off guard by the question, even though they were the only ones speaking. She wasn't used to being asked so many questions that weren't on a preordained subject. "Theseus is my iguana."

"You have a pet?" Gilgamesh beamed, so utterly delighted by even the idea of having an animal companion. He stepped closer to her, "can I see him?"

"I-I suppose," she uttered before she had a chance to think better of it. Was this what she was supposed to be doing? She was told to be hospitable to the Lee Family et al, so surely that included indulging Gilgamesh too...right? "Come with me."

"Allow me," he smiled, holding out his hand for her.

Thena paused just for a moment before slipping her hand into his, the way she had seen Mother do when Father held her hand as they walked the halls of their cold and sprawling estate. The way a gentleman did with a lady.

Gilgamesh held her hand so gently she felt as if she would collapse.

Thena looked down at the steps as she lead him upstairs, opting to walk to the left first. "Mother and Father have been anticipating your visit for quite some time."

"My folks too," he concurred, in much more casual phrasing. He looked around as they walked, his other hand still in his pocket. "They're all excited for it, and yet they keep saying what a drag it is."

Thena smiled as much as she was able without practising, "my parents are the same. I haven't the faintest idea why they insist on referring to things they claim are good to be so awful."

"They're funny like that, huh?" Gilgamesh looked away from the family portraits lining the upper walls to her again. "Should I have said it was quite awful to make your acquaintance?"

Thena let another tiny little laugh escape. She peeked at Gilgamesh, just to make sure he didn't mind. But he was smiling right at her. "Abysmal to meet you as well."

"See?" he grinned so freely, so uninhibited by the gilded cage around them. "Maybe that should be our code for things. If they're going to pretend shit it so great, then we can say just the opposite."

They reached the top of the staircase, where it split from its other half. Still, he didn't let go of her hand, waiting for to lead him wherever they pleased.

"Then I am having," she paused, her lips pressing together in threat of another smile, "an awful time."

His hand squeezed around hers faintly. But it was nice. "Me too."

[moonchild-things]

Chapter Four: Just What We Need

Summary: Iris' first year at Hogwarts has finally come to an end. After the chaos that ensued during her fifth year, she's ready to graduate in two years. As her relationship with Sirius picks up traction and she makes new friends, Iris wants to enjoy her time before she’s forced into adulthood.

Word Count: 4334 

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A BARK LIKE LAUGHTER ECHOED AROUND THE LIVELY pub in London on a sunny afternoon. The Leaky Cauldron was busy today like it usually is during the summertime. Serving a multitude of witches and wizards of drinks that varied from pumpkin juice to fire whiskey, the owner, Tom, was doing his best to keep up with the orders. In the corner of the pub, the most infamous couple from Hogwarts were huddled up together sipping on some butterbeer. 

The two were currently out on a much-needed date. They hadn't seen each other in over two weeks at this point, and even then they were usually around their friends. So it was time for the two to have their alone time with each other. Well, not that alone time, but you understand. Actually going on a nice date was well deserved for the couple. 

So they met up at the infamous Leaky Cauldron to spend the afternoon together. Currently, the two of them were catching up since the last they saw each other. Though the last time that they saw each other was a little over a week ago when their friend group had met up at Wendy's home to have a sleepover. That night was more like camping since Wendy's house was basically in the forest. Perks of being a descendant from a wealthy, pure-blood family must include large, isolated estates Definitely one thing that Iris was a tad bit jealous about. Having such a large house would mean that nobody would bother her! Imagine it, no longer having to share a room with Lily which meant working on her creations without fearing waking up her twin. Or better yet, having to pass by Petunia's room every day just to get to the kitchen! Oh, that would be a blessing! Though at the moment, the one and only blessing that she was focusing on was the handsome man next to her. 

"What did you say they did again?" Sirius asked while looking over the galleon that Iris had given him. The coin was most likely the shiniest piece of currency that he had probably held. He could see his dashing reflection in it, even.

Iris snagged the coin away from him, "it gets stuck to a person's hands when it's picked up!"

Yes, another trick that she had come up with over the summer. It was on the easier side of pranks to make, as it only consisted of a few simple spells and charms, but that didn't mean she was less proud of it. She came up with the idea after she saw a few muggle boys play the prank in her village with a £20 note on a string. Of course, she put her own little spin on the prank and added some magic, but it was similar in principle. The coin wasn't a real gallon, if you took a closer look at it, you would see that there was a niffler engraved on the coin instead of a dragon or wizard. Was it illegal to make counterfeit money? Eh, probably. Iris would look into it a bit later, once she was back at Hogwarts and the library full of books about magical laws and such. For now, she'll just keep the one galleon and figure out if she could sell them or not. It was one thing to make pranks, it was another to break the law and end up punished for it. Iris likes to break rules and such, which everyone knows, however, she wouldn't wanna be thrown into Azkaban or anything because she broke some stupid rule that she didn't know.

The redhead observed the fake coin with her nimble fingers, "everyone's a little greedy right, wouldn't miss the opportunity to pick up a galleon that just so happens to be on the ground, right?"

"Oh, I see," Sirius snickered while winding an arm around his lady-love's waist. He nuzzled her neck with a laugh, "you're quite the devious thing, love."

Iris rolled her eyes and basked in the affection, "as if you aren't the same way, darling."

The shaggy-haired boy's chest continued to rumble with his deep chuckles. Oh, he loved how he was able to fall for such a mischievous girl. A girl who could keep up with him in many different ways and liked to cause trouble in plenty of ways was definitely made for him. He finished off his glass of butterbeer and started to shuffle out of the booth. "Now, come on!"

Iris allowed herself to be pulled out of the booth and maneuvered through the slightly crowded pub. She giggled, "Slow down!"

The two teens weaved through the few groups of drunk or nearly drunk wizards and witches. Iris' arm was nearly pulled out of its socket with how much force was Sirius was pulling her. Though it's not like she minded it so much, after all, it was Sirius doing it. It didn't bother her so much. They made it to the back of the pub and out to the brick wall that separated the pub to the Diagon Alley.

With giddy smiles and racing hearts, they quickly used a wand to open up the brick wall to enter the magical world. The noisiness of Diagon Alley greeted their ears as they started to walk down the crooked roadway, joining the many other witches and wizards. They weaved through the hustle and bustle of hags buying potion ingredients and children gushing about the newest high-speed broom.

The two of them were quite ready to make this date even more enjoyable than it already was. The faux golden galleon was quickly placed on the ground in the least busy area that they could find. After all, the two of them wanted to see how effective the newest toy Iris had come up with. So they settled into a small corner in the shadows to watch the show.

Boy, was it one of the most enjoyable times for the two pranksters. Long story short, the couple had ended up pranking a few people with this. The first was a middle-aged wizard who thought it was a good-natured prank. The bearded man was impressed with what Iris had created and had let out a hearty laugh after Iris took the coin back. 

The second was a young girl, around nine or ten, with blonde pigtails and a licorice wand in hand. After the coin had gotten stuck to her hand, she had started to freak out just a bit. Before she could start crying or something, Iris had hoped out of the shadows to console her and explain the little trick. Eventually, after some soft words and jokes, the little girl was giggling while the coin was stuck to Iris' cheek. Sirius watched the display with a wide smile and soft eyes. Iris made sure that the girl was happy and that she wasn't going to cause a scene before ushering the girl off to find her parents. 

There were a couple of other people who had fallen prey to their pranks. Their reactions were relatively the same. They were surprised, they laughed lightly, and then moved on with their day. Just about everyone they encountered just saw it as a harmless prank. At most, they thought that it was a tad bit annoying, but moved on.

"You brats!" A withered, strained voice shouted out, almost sounding as though the old crone who had shouted was going to lose her voice. "Get back here!"

Though there was one witch who did not take kindly to the prank. The sickly-looking woman with long, ancient fingers pointed at the couple and instantly started shouting. The coin that had been stuck to her hand was quickly whisked from her palm at the simple flick of Iris' wand. Her hunched, crumpled figure hobbled in place as she shouted out obscenities to the two teens who had abandoned their hiding spot and started to run.

The teens laughed loudly with each other as they flowed through the current of the crowd. They earned a few strange looks from others as they did their best to get as far away from the old crone as possible. It was inevitable that they would finally run into someone who became enraged at the joke for one thing or another. So the two had already come up with an escape route as soon as they could. They took that route and easily got away from the old woman, though it's not like it wasn't that hard to do since the old hag looked to be over one-hundred and moved at a snail's pace.

They continued to laugh with each other uncontrollably and breathlessly before slowing down into a walk. Iris wrapped her arms around Sirius's torso as he wrapped a tight arm over her shoulders. Their shoulders continued to shake as their laughter died down just a little bit. They casually walked down the crooked road with their arms wrapped around each other tightly, unwilling to let the other get too far away from each other. 

Iris finally settled down enough to speak without interrupting herself. The smile that was plaster on her face was completely blinding with the light that radiated off of it. "That was amazing!"

Sirius nodded his head and calmed down his laughter along with her. "Of course it was!" He ran a hand through his thick black hair with the cocky smile ever-present on his lips. "You're newest toy is brilliant, love."

Iris smirked, "I know. Just wait until I can make more of these! Oh, it'll be so fun to use them around school!"

Sirius led Iris into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where both of them were ready to devour some icy treats. After Iris ordered a serving of salted caramel blondie and Sirius got some mint ice cream, the two settled down at a table to eat. This date was going splendidly in their opinions. Though any date would be just as amazing considering they always have the best time when they are together. It didn't matter if they were pulling pranks, sitting around with each other talking about nothing and everything, or going out to eat, all they needed was each other to have a good time. 

As people walked passed their table and chatter bounced off of the cobblestone ground and walls, the couple idly talked with each other about everything and anything. "There's only about a month left of summer," Sirius pointed out.

Iris groaned, "don't remind me! The only good thing about going back to Hogwarts is getting to avoid Petunia and those horrid muggles." She shivered at the reminder of Oscar and Samantha, the annoying muggles who Iris had the displeasure of running into every once in a while. It didn't help that things were quite awkward between her and Derek as well, after their last encounter. 

"The only good thing?" Sirius asked in mock offense placing a hand over his heart. "I thought getting to be with me would be the best thing about Hogwarts."

The redhead shrugged her shoulders, "eh, I guess so."

Her boyfriend's handsome features were twisted into a pout now, "you wound me, love."

"I know." Iris laughed softly and taking a bite of her cold treat, "How's staying with James? I imagine the two of you cause enough trouble for his parents just about every day."

Sirius smiled widely, to the point where it looked like his face would split in half, as he seemed to laugh at a memory. "We aren't that bad." Iris raised an eyebrow at him questionably. He conceited at her look, "Okay, okay, we cause a bit of trouble, but not a lot!"

"Mhm. I totally believe that," Iris said sarcastically with a smirk which caused Sirius to pout once again. The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate their ice cream. It was easy for the two to sit in a comfortable silence ever since they had their midnight rendezvous at school. It was surprising to think that these two rambunctious teens, who could never really shut their mouths, were able to sit together in peace and quiet.

Sirius then spoke up after a few moments, "What about you, driving your sister mad, are you?"

"I probably would if she wasn't hanging around Thing One and Thing Two so much." Iris rolled her eyes as a thick layer of annoyance started to filter through her irises. She huffed through her nose harshly, "They're like leeches, I swear. No matter what, they're always right by Iris. Never give me the chance to just hang with my twin, which is rare cause I don't usually wanna do it, but the one time I want to those morons are right there."

For a moment, Sirius chuckled at her displeasure. Yeah, he could understand her dislike for those muggles. Even after meeting them only once, Sirius hated them quite easily. Add in the fact that he had to hear about James' hatred for that Oscar boy because he obviously fancied Lily. That alone was a horrendous crime for anyone to commit, in James' eyes, which Sirius had to hear about nearly on a daily basis. A thought, a terrible reminder, from New Years, then popped into his head. "What about that other muggle? Drake?"

Iris chewed on the inside of her cheek and placed her ice cream down for a moment, suddenly not wanting to eat it at the mention of the muggle boy. Her voice took on a softer tone as she glanced away briefly from him as she answered, "Derek."

From her tone of voice, Sirius sat up a bit straighter. He could hear the layer of awkwardness in her words that she never uses. So what had happened for Iris to be like this? What had that annoying muggle done? If you think that Sirius had forgotten about that kiss that Derek had given Iris during New Years, then you are mistaken. Granted, he pushed it to the back of his mind because he could now call Iris his girl. However, that didn't necessarily mean that Derek would back off, would it? Sirius didn't know this muggle that well since he only met him the one time, so for all he knew Derek was a scumbag who would readily try to steal a girl from someone. So he wanted to keep his eye on him, even if he really couldn't considering he couldn't be with Iris 24/7. Still, it's the thought that counted really.

Iris sighed softly, "I haven't seen him much, which I suppose is alright considering he had to make things awkward."

"Awkward how?" Sirius jumped at that, he wouldn't like to see his lady-love put in an uncomfortable situation. It didn't help that the two of them had to spend time away from each other because they lived somewhat further away from each other. He couldn't be there to make sure that she was alright, which was such an anxiety-inducing thought for him. After what had happened at school, Sirius really didn't want her to be out of his sight, at least not unless he was certain she was safe.

"He tried to ask me out a little while ago," Iris said cautiously, knowing that Sirius wouldn't be exactly happy with it.

That was an understatement. Sirius certainly wasn't happy to hear that another boy had tried to go after Iris. Not only had his sadistic little brother literally force himself into a relationship with Iris but now a muggle also thought that he could try to get with her. The only difference this time was that Sirius was going to make sure to stake his claim. No one else, especially a stupid muggle boy, was going to take her away from him, ever. "Did he not know that you already had a boyfriend."

Iris shook her head slowly, "Well, no. Considering I only saw him during breaks, he must have just assumed that I was still single."

That didn't sit well in Sirius's gut, "And you never told him?"

"Well, I didn't think he'd still want to date me." She started to explain, wanting to make sure she was clear with Sirius. The last thing she needed was for Sirius to get upset over this and cause a rift between them. "Although I mean, we did flirt a bit before we got together! I just did think that... he'd still want to?" It was a weak argument on her part. Though in her defense, Iris completely forgot about the muggle and any sort of courtship that he could have had when she started to date Sirius. He was the only one on her mind. The only guy who mattered to her. So why would she think about another guy trying to get with her when she already had her dashing boyfriend to think about?

Sirius sighed loudly and slumped back in his seat. He knew that Iris was quite the flirtatious person, much like himself. So he shouldn't be surprised that she had flirted with other guys, though at least it was before they had decided to date. He trusted Iris with literally everything, so he knew that Iris would never go behind his back. Though it was slightly surprising to hear that she didn't even consider that the muggle boy would still be interested in her. He knew that she had plenty of experience with messing around with guys, so he thought that she could recognize when someone was interested in her. 

After seeing that awkward little kiss Derek had stolen from Iris, Sirius had certainly grown to have a grudge against him. Sure, the two weren't together at the time, but that still didn't discourage the jealousy within him from the time. Iris certainly wasn't ready for the kiss or even willing for it, it was a complete surprise to her. Sirius didn't like it, or him for that matter. With the fact that Derek fancied Iris, had kissed her without her consent and was still trying to pursue her, he had every reason not to like the guy.

"Is he bothering you?" He asked her with a tone of urgency.

Iris shook her head and waved her head dismissively, "no, no, I haven't seen him all that much, so he isn't bothering me or anything."

Sirius let out a relieved breath, "Good."

"It isn't that bad, darling." She told him with her voice starting to take on a teasing tone. Obviously, she could tell that Sirius was growing to be quite jealous of this. Though she had no idea that it was a tad bit more than just jealousy. "I told him I was with you, so there won't be any misunderstandings between anyone about this. I can tell you're worried about it."

The shaggy-haired boy scoffed softly and started to stuff ice cream into his mouth, "Me? Worried?"

"Hm, you can't hide it," Iris nodded her head with a sly smile on her pale lips. It was endearing to see Sirius act so bashfully. Oh, how she took pride in flustering the poor boy.

Sirius looked away as a bit of pink flush covered his cheekbones. "So what if I'm worried about my girlfriend? I think it's in the job description of a boyfriend, isn't it?" Sirius has had many a girlfriends in the past, but none of them could get under his skin like Iris could. Of course, she got under his skin in a good way. One that made him feel flustered and a warm feeling to swell in his chest. This was something that he'd hope that he got over it soon, because he would much enjoy getting to fluster Iris at some point.

"Yes, yes, alright," Iris giggled, "Though there isn't much to worry about okay? Derek has left me alone for weeks and even if I do see him it's with other people around for a short time."

The boy sighed and took in her words. He nodded his head firmly, "Fine. As long as you're alright." That was his main priority at the end of the day. All that really mattered was having Iris kept safe, especially after their fifth-year. Did he want to admit out loud that he was terrified of there being a repeat of what happened with Regulus? Not really. He had a feeling that Iris would brush off his worry, which he thought was rightfully founded. Even if something like that didn't happen again, it was still a nagging fact in the back of his mind. It happened once, who's to say it wouldn't happen again?

Iris's chest swelled in admiration for her boyfriend who certainly cared a lot of her. She smiled brightly, which could blind just about everyone in the parlor, "You're so adorable when you're worried!"

---

Iris's date with Sirius had gone on for a little while longer after their ice cream. They strolled around Diagon Alley for a little bit more before they reluctantly parted ways. It had gotten a bit late and the two of them didn't want to end up in trouble with either of their guardians that night. So with a few heated kisses, they said goodbye and headed home. 

Now, the redhead was skipping her way up to the front door of her home with a bright smile. She always felt like she was walking on the air after spending time with Sirius. He left behind such a warm feeling within her that never went away even if they parted ways. She was whipped just as much as Sirius. Though she had an easier time hiding her flustered appearance than he did.

She entered the front door and sighed happily as she pulled off her shoes. From the living room, Lily perked up at the sound of the front door opening and closing and looked over to see her sister enter.

She propped herself up on the back of the couch to watch her sister float into the room. "So how did it go?"

"It was great!" Iris smirked.

"Where'd you go this time?" Lily asked somewhat interested. She wasn't usually interested in what her sister did with boys, considering she knew Iris could be a bit lewd in some ways, but with Sirius, it was a bit different. Don't get her wrong, the two were the biggest flirts that she has ever known so things could get a bit too much which could be annoying. However, Lily was happy to see Iris willingly be in a committed relationship that she knew she was happy in. Plus, she may not admit it, but Sirius is a friend of hers as well, and it's nice to see him the same way.

Iris started to list off the locations on her hand, "The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, and Florean Fortescue."

"I'm surprised that you didn't go to a joke shop or something." Lily said with a pursed lips as Iris plopped herself down on the couch next to her, "Seems like an ideal date for a pair of troublemakers like you two."

Iris groaned at the thought, they didn't even think of that! "Oh, we should have totally done that! I'm running low on dung bombs."

"Nope, you don't need any of those magical things!" Octavia exclaimed as she came into the living room after finishing up cleaning the kitchen. Their mother sat herself down on one of the comfy chairs near the couch. Her chestnut hair pulled up in a bun swayed from side to side as she tiredly sat in the seat. Though she was still sat on the end of her seat, eagerly awaiting to hear about her middle daughter's date. "Now, how is that boy of yours, huh?"

Now, Iris had tried her best to keep her relationship with Sirius on the down-low around her parents. She knew that her father would go insane with the news that yet another one of his daughters had started to date someone, which she didn't want to hear his shouts about it. Her mother would have been completely the opposite of her father. Octavia was more than happy to encourage Iris to date, especially with a boy that she had at least met once. Did Craig know about Iris's boyfriend? Nope. Lily had accidentally mentioned Iris and Sirius being together while their parents were with them, however, Iris played it off as a joke. Albeit, it was a bit of a rough job to convince her father, but it worked. Sadly, her mother wasn't that thick and was easily able to pick out that Iris had finally gotten a boyfriend.

Iris rolled her eyes at the fact that her mother was acting like an enthusiastic teenager, "Sirius is fine, mum."

"You should invite him around some time, him and James," Octavia commented innocently, though there was a small spark of mischief in her eyes. "Might as well as get to know my future sons-in-law, right?"

"Mum!" The twins exclaimed with matching red cheeks.

Octavia stared at them as she held in her chuckles, "What?"

Iris stood up abruptly and started to walk towards her bedroom. Doing her best to hide her rosy cheeks from their view. "I'm going to bed!" As she left her still embarrassed twin and her giggling mother to continue to talk with each other. For now, all she needed was to curl up in her bed and fall into a nice dream. She quickly got ready and climbed into her bed with an awaiting Shadow already curled up into a tight ball. As Iris started to drift off into unconsciousness, her mind was racing with the thoughts of Sirius. How adorable he could actually be, especially when he was jealous. Though she would much rather not have to deal with such a worry-wart of a boyfriend. If only she knew how bad this would actually get...

---

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[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[anxious-allie-ren]

The Rumors.

Coming at you with the next chapter! This one was fun! I really laid some good ground work here and planted some hints for future important plot points. So, see if you can find them! I hope you enjoy!

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

The next banquet was once again held at the King and Queen's summer estate. But rather than showing up in the evening for a night of dancing and conversation, guests came instead to share a meal and a few waltzes.

All that were in attendance had just enjoyed a delicious three-course meal. A light vegetable soup served with a side of bread, followed by roasted pheasant with glazed potato, and finished off with a delicious iced pudding. You had starved yourself all day for the meal, expecting nothing but a grand spread. It's safe to say you were not disappointed. Your father on the other hand, he was a different story. He had nothing nice to say about the meal, stating that his pheasant was dry and the pudding was too sweet. You were able to conjure up an excuse to get away from him, walking away from your table and into the crowd. You needed to breathe.

You're watching the couples dance around the floor as you feel someone come up to your side.

"Did you enjoy your meal, my lady?"

You turn to see Poe standing next to you, looking as dashing as ever. He's dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly brown hair tamed in a perfect mop on his head. You smile up at him and nod.

"Yes I did. How about you, Lord Poe?"

"Just Poe, remember? I did enjoy it, but I have to say, I wish the pudding had been sweeter."

His response makes you giggle, looking down at your hands. He was so drastically different from your father. Of course they would even differ on something as simple as the dessert.

"Of course, Poe."

Poe turns to look at you. He holds out his hand for you just as the previous dance ends.

"Would you like to dance with me, miss Y/N?"

You nod quickly and place your gloved hand in his, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

You are swept up in him as you waltz about the room. You could feel that spark from your stroll in the park. Only now, it was beginning to burn brighter, being fanned by the closeness of your bodies. The way he was looking down at you had your cheeks burning red. Poe smiled and held your hand just a bit tighter.

"I very much enjoy the time we've spent together, miss Y/N."

His words take you by surprise. Of course you enjoyed his company. But you were not expecting the feeling to be mutual. You look up in his eyes, a bright smile spread across your face.

"I have as well, Poe. But please just call me Y/N."

_______________________________________________

Those in the crowd watch the two of you as you dance. The spark could be felt by everyone in attendance. It seemed that the young woman who gained praise from the King had found her love match. Any one with eyes could clearly see the connection between the two of you.

That of course meant that both your father and Lord Hux could see this as well. The men were standing off to the side watching.

"I knew she would fall for a younger man. We should have just arranged the marriage and been done with it. You promised me this would be no problem."

"Lord Hux, I can assure you this will simply be a little obstacle in our plans. MY daughter will be your bride by the end of the season."

Lord Hux looks at your father, his brows furrowed in anger. He slicks back his ginger hair with his hand and sighs.

"You're right, your grace. Because I'll be taking matters into my own hands."

With that, Lord Hux makes his way through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

_____________________________________________________

You are broken from your moment with Poe as Lord Hux comes up to the both of you, your father following closely behind.

Poe turns to face him, dropping your hands from him.

"Good evening, Lord Hux. How can I help you?"

Lord Hux scowls at Poe and turns his direction to you.

"I've come to ask my lady to dance with me, if that's alright with you."

You couldn't believe the brazen actions of Lord Hux. It is more shocking that your father was going along with this. He had been so demanding that you behave, but certainly this little stunt would not look good to the ton.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted to do was dance with him. He had made his intentions very clear in your last interaction. You didn't want to do anything more to give him the wrong idea. Lord Hux stood no chance with you. Poe looked down at you, sensing your hesitancy. He was about to answer when your father stepped in.

"Of course, Lord Hux. Y/N would love to dance with you! It would be her honor."

Your father punctuates those last words with a hard look at you. It was clear you had no choice in the matter. It was either behave now and come out of this with your dignity intact, or walk away and lose the good graces of the King and the ton.

You stay silent as you take Lord Hux's hand and begin to dance with him. Your face is as still as the statues that decorate the elaborate ballroom. You wanted to make it clear to all that may be watching, along with your dance partner, that you were not enjoying this.

Lord Hux drones on about his vast estates, wealth, etc. but you can't bring it in you to listen. None of this information mattered to you. As he continues going on about some group of men he's assembling, you catch the eyes of the raven haired man from across the room.

He's standing amongst the crowd, dressed in a fine tuxedo. You couldn't even take in his attire. All you could focus on was his gaze, which was fixed right on you. The both of you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Even as Lord Hux twirled you around the floor, your eyes still managed to find him. As the song ended, you nodded to Lord Hux and turned towards the direction of the man, but found that he was gone.

You made your way back into the crowd. You were hoping to find Poe or even the mystery man. You stopped at the refreshments table to get a glass of champagne. As you turned, you spotted the man again. He was talking with a few other men, but the second he felt your stare he looked up at you and met your eyes. You were tempted to make your way over towards him but stopped as two other debutantes joined you at the table. Both girls were beautiful. The one closest to the table had short auburn hair with deep brown eyes. She was wearing an emerald green dress accented by silver beads. The woman next to her had hair that was a bit longer than the other's, but it was a lovely chocolate color. Her eyes were blue, just like the dress she had on.

"Lizzie, honestly. No King is going to be joining the ton this year." The woman in the blue dress states as she grabs a glass of champagne for herself.

"No I'm serious, he's here! Look, he's right there!" Who you now know as Lizzie says and points wildly across the room. You follow her finger and find she is spotted at the mysterious man you've been exchanging glances with. You had to be mistaken. Maybe she was pointing at one of the other men in the group.

You look back to the pair and step closer to them.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude on your conversation. But I couldn't help but overhear you say a King is in attendance?"

The women both turn their attention to you and prepare to make an introduction. The woman in the emerald dress speaks up first.

"Yeah, sorry! My name is Elizabeth, but you can just call me Lizzie. This is Julia."

"Lizzie here thinks that a King from another country has joined the ton this season. I think she's delusional."

You laugh at Julia's comment and introduce yourself.

"Julia, I'm not kidding! My mother told me all about it after the last ball. He was seen talking to

Charlotte. I guess the interaction didn't go so well."

You decide to join in, hoping to get more information.

"Which one did you say is the King?"

Lizzie once again points in the direction of the raven haired man, who is still in conversation.

"That man there, the dark haired one. My mother says he's king of Chandrila. A really broody one."

Julia pipes in, staring at the man along with you both.

"Well, he is handsome. Tall and broad. How do you know he's broody, Lizzie?"

"Oh, he's drop dead gorgeous for sure! But my mother knows some of the lads that served in his army. Said he was brutal."

You let those words sink in for a second before you speak up.

"Well shouldn't you be brutal in battle? I mean especially if you're commanding an army."

"Oh yeah of course. But this wasn't just on the battle grounds. This was to his servants and townspeople as well. Said he would have a big outburst and break things, scream at people, all of that. Seems like a case of another horrid man blessed with good looks. Feel real bad for the one who ends up with him."

You and Julia nod along to her remarks. The two women go on gossiping about others in the ton. You pretend to follow along. But you continue to go over Lizzie's words in your head. Has a king from some other country really come and joined your ton? If so, what was the reasoning? Was he really some dangerous man? It sounded as though he was. It seemed as though you had caught his attention as well.

_____________________________________________

Kylo's POV

Arriving late was not something Kylo was fond of. He hated doing so. But being so far from home meant letters and packages took a bit longer to arrive to him. This resulted in his duties not getting done in the timely manner he was used to. All of this made him late to the banquet. He knew this would come to bite him in the ass.

Kylo had full intentions of going, introducing himself to you, and asking you to dance tonight. But with how late he arrived he wasn't even sure a dance would still be open for him. Or if you'd even still be here.

Kylo scanned the crowd, hoping to spot you amongst all the women in frivolous dresses. With no luck, he turned his attention to the dance floor. There, he spotted you with the ginger haired man from the ball. It was easy to see your distaste for him. It was written all over his face. It took everything in him to stay in place and not remove you from the man's arms. No true gentleman should make a lady that uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to move on and find a drink, you looked up. Kylo felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat and then dropped to his toes. Your gaze was enough to hold him in place. Each spin, twirl, or dip he stayed right there to meet your eyes again. Each time he got that same feeling. He couldn't put a name to it, but he knew for certain he'd never felt anything like it before. He needed to get out of there. The feeling was beginning to get overwhelming. Kylo quickly made his way towards the drink table, grabbing a glass and walking off to a quieter part of the room.

Though of course it didn't stay that way for long. Just as he was catching his breath, two gentlemen came up to him and began conversation. He didn't want to seem rude, but fuck could a man get a moment of peace?

He listens to the men talk about their respective territories and such, including his input every now and then. Suddenly, he felt as though someone was watching him. He looked up to find you staring at him from the refreshments table he had just been at. It felt as though he was just missing you. You turned your attention to the two women who had joined you. Kylo looked down at his glass, half listening to the men in front of him. He was determined to meet you by the end of the night.

_____________________________________________

Many had left already. A few couples stood around chatting while their chaperones watched. Kylo continued to scan the room, hoping he hadn't missed you.

He walks out into the main hall near the doors to the estate. There, he spots you standing off to the side while an older man, whom he assumes is your father, talks with the ginger haired man he'd seen you dancing with earlier. He stands and admires you for a moment. You quietly gaze at the chandeliers and art work that graces the walls, content with just being there.

Kylo walks up to you silently hoping not to scare you from your trance. He comes to stand a few feet from you. Now that he is up close, he can really take in your beauty.

He had very limited experience with women, but he understood beauty. He thinks back to the deer in the forest from when he was a child. It was so naturally beautiful standing in the tall grass. It's antler's seemingly reaching the sky, showing off the deer's strength. He remembers how beautiful he found the animal, how intrigued he was by it. Even up until the end, he wanted to protect it. As he looked upon you, he was reminded of that deer. Beautiful, strong, and something he wanted to protect.

You finally felt his gaze and turned to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise. Kylo thought for certain he saw fear flash before your eyes before you quickly hid it behind a polite smile. He quickly snaps out of his thoughts. Kylo clears his throat and tries to provide a smile back.

"Hello miss, I wanted to finally introduce myself. I am Kylo Ren, King of Chandrila."

You stand there staring at him for a moment. He's scared he's upset you in some way. Or even scared you off with his title.

"Hello, your majesty. It is an honor to meet you. I am Miss Y/F/N, the daughter to the Duke of Selonia."

Kylo can't help the small smile that begins to form as he hears your name leave your lips. He knows instantly that it will be a name that plays on loop in his mind for days to come.

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

There we have it! They've finally met. About damn time am I right? Any guesses on what's coming next?

Also wanted to add that I will be going on vacation for two week starting Saturday. So I will do my best to update in-between then. But I can't guarantee anything.

Love,

Allie

[ladybug023]

Tien Fuh Wu Aka: Wu

(Warning: mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, and human trafficking. please don't read if that upsets you. Tien Fuh Wu's real backstory is very graphic and sad.)

Tien Fuh Wu was a real-life hero who helped stomp out sex trafficking in Chinatown. The OC that I'm making headcanons about is based on her. Here's an article that explains her story: Tien Fuh Wu

Warrior version of Wu Backstory HCs:

Her age is 24 in the show.

In Warrior, she’s mostly called “Wu” except for Nellie who calls her Tien or “blessed Tien” when she’s doting about her. People in Chinatown also call her the "White Devil's Daughter”

Wu is a feminist activist who alongside her mother figure, Nellie, fights to end sexual slavery in Chinatown. She's also a Presbyterian Christian and her religion is very important to her. (As it was to the real Tien Fuh Wu.)

Wu is also the Nellie’s personal assistant. Which means she’s basically Nellie’s right hand woman. Her bodyguard, translator, and she helps oversee Nellie’s company, staff, and estates.

Wu sometimes calls Nellie “Lo Mo” which means “old mother” but in public it’s “Miss Davenport”

Wu is big strong sister. All of the girls at the Vineyards call her “Jie Jie” which means big sister in Chinese. Wu does her absolute best to keep them safe from danger and when someone she cares for gets hurt she blames herself harshly for failing to protect them.

She also is teaching Nellie Chinese.

Her backstory in Warrior is mostly similar to her real counterpart's backstory. Poor baby. Like honestly the most tragic and graphic backstory in Warrior.

At age 10 her father sold her to traffickers for a couple bottles of rice wine and a bag of opium. He did this because she was a girl and therefore had no use to him. She was auctioned off in broad daylight to a Fung Hai brothel owner named Batu.

At first, she was kept as domestic slaves which were also called "Mui Tsai." Which means little sister in Cantonese. She was also branded like livestock on her the nape of her neck.

She was kept in a cage and didn’t see the sunlight for 4 years. She was regularly beaten and sexually abused by her owner. When Wu turned 11 they began to sell her to other men.

Living in the Peking brothel was a literal hell for her. It was so bad that she’d pray every night for whatever god out there to put her out of her misery.

One night Batu sold Wu to an aristocrat from Sinoma. This man turned out to be Nellie Davenport's husband. He molested her until he died of a heart attack on top of her. When Nellie and two police officers found her there were so many scars and burns on Wu's body that it even made the Bulls cry.

(She was the 14-year-old girl Nellie mentioned at the dinner party with Penelope and the Mayor.)

Nellie brought both her home that same night, completely forgetting about her dead husband. She only cared that Wu got a nice bath, medical care, and food. (Nellie was 34 at the time. Nellie is 44 in my AU.)

At first, Wu didn't trust Nellie at all. What did this white lady want from her? She often threw tantrums and lashed out. She even stabbed Nellie once. Also, the language barrier made it difficult for them to understand each other.

However, no matter how many people around Nellie told her to give up Wu, she refused. She felt she owed it to the girl not to give up on her. Over time Nellie gained Wu's trust and they formed a very tight bond.

Nellie made sure Wu was well educated. She taught her English and feminist theory.

When she was 15 Wu became fascinated with Kung Fu from viewing a Kung Fu class while visiting Chinatown with Nellie. She believed it was the best way to protect Nellie and herself from men that would want to hurt them.

She is mostly self-taught because no martial artist in Chinatown would train a girl. So, Wu began cross dressing as a boy and seeking into Chinatown on the weekends to learn from masters. Of course once they figured out she was a girl they’d throw her out. But as Bruce Lee said she’d learn what was usual, discard what wasn’t, and make it her own thing.

Wing Chun and Kung Fu did improve her mental, emotional, and physical state and helped control her anger.

(Wu uses her umbrella as a self-defense weapon. Umbrella Kung Fu! I added this to reference how umbrellas were a popular self-defense tool for women at the time.)

Her fighting abilities are kept secret from the White upper class because they would see her as “dangerous.”

When Wu turned 18 she became Nellie’s Assistant.

Wu believes that God saved her from dying in that crib brothel because it was her purpose to help liberate and free the women of Chinatown.

Wu is the one who came up with the idea to turn some of Nellie's land into sanctuaries for the abused women of Chinatown and Nellie was more than happy to do it.

They started to go to Chinatown and the Barbary Coast to buy sex slaves from their owners. It grew from there. Soon they began to pay off cops to help them raid small brothels and gambling dens.

However, this also made them some enemies. Wu was targeted more than Nellie because she herself was Chinese and therefore viewed as a traitor by the tongs in her midst.

She is regularly sent threatening letters, spoken about poorly in Chinese newspapers, and some of the tongs like the Fung Hai put a bounty on Wu. Although, every assassin who has tried to kill her so far has failed. Wu, being the badass she is doesn’t let this stop her from her mission work.

Wu would teach some of the girls they rescued martial arts and self-defense if they were interested.

Also, Nellie and her also finance Chinatown's Presbyterian Church which was founded in 1853 and is the first Chinese-American church in North America. If Wu is in town she'll often give speeches there.

Wu Personality HCs:

She is stern, outspoken, sharp tongued, intelligent, level-headed, resilient, honorable, and a bit too blunt for her own good. She comes off as rude, intimidating, and self-righteous to some people.

She’s passionate about her cause and a determined hero, "excited" and "eager for the fray." The real Tien Fuh Wu was known to force her way into brothels, warmly reassuring young girls, and fearlessly getting them out of harm's way.

Wu is highly educated and well-mannered. She speaks eloquently and doesn’t curse because cursing is a sin.

Did I mention she’s emotionally constipated as fuckkkk, she rarely smiles.

For reference, her morality is at Officer Lee’s level. She’s more uncompromising with her morals than Lee.

In the beginning, Wu had a white and black worldview. She absolutely hated the tongs and anyone who supported tongs and prostitution. Nellie is the more understanding one. (Nellie is a hate the sin but loves the sinner type)

But when Wu begins to form close bonds with morally grey characters like Ah Toy and Young Jun her worldview slowly becomes less rigid.

Wu will never be able to have a child. The Tongs robbed her of that choice. Despite that she’s still very sweet and gentle with children. She make it a priority to remind the little girls she saved of how important and precious they are.

She isn't as trusting as Nellie either. She has a lot of trust issues and It takes a lot to gain it.

Wu also suffers from feeling like an outsider and abandoned by her people. They treat her like she’s not Chinese and looks down on her familiar relationship with Nellie.

Aka she feels like what Crazy Rich Asians referred to as a “Banana”. Yellow on the outside but white on the inside.

She’s a feminist who takes no shit from men. Her general distrust and distaste for men are because of her trauma. Of course, this intimidates most of the men around her.

Wu has a pessimistic view of romantic love and abstains from it. This is due to her distrust of men and her fear of getting hurt by another man.

Plus the real Tien Fuh Wu never married, saying in the article. "Men are very useful when it comes to moving furniture."

Despite this, a part of her still aches for romance and dreams about finding the right partner.

She also secretly likes romance novels. Cheesy or not she’ll still read it. Her favorite is Pride and Prejudice. She’ll take this secret to her grave.

Appearance:

In my AU she is played by actress Ansa Woo. She’s what I imagine Wu to look like. She’s a stage combat trained but she would have to gain some muscle for the role. Plus she has that wise big sis look.

She has a lot of scars on her body from her past that she’s insecure of. Especially her branding scar. She always hides them with clothing.

She’s tall with muscular athletic build.

She always wears the cross necklace that Nellie gifted her. It gives her good luck.

Wu cross dresses sometimes.

Her pantsuit is a white suit embroidered with Chinese patterns. I think it suits her because it contrasts Young Jun’s Hop Wei Black suit. She wears it with her hair in a long Manchurian like braid.

Romantic Interest: Young Jun

I’m a sucker for enemies turned lovers/Yin-Yang ships. So I shipped her with Young Jun.

It’s more like an enemies turned friends then lovers and it’s a m slow burn

She hates him because well he’s Hop Wei, sleazy, and arrogant. He’s like an 1800s frat boy.

He hates her frigidness and self-righteous attitude.

They also disagree morally and are always arguing. But there’s still chemistry.

He calls her “Angel” and “Ball Buster” to piss her off.

She calls him “Rotten Onion”

Unlike every other woman Young Jun has met, she isn’t afraid to call him on his shit and tell him the truth. Which Young Jun isn’t used to because he pays women to feign affection for him. (Ex when he pays girls for sex.)

He can’t buy her affection.

After she takes a bullet in the shoulder for him in S2 Ep6 they slowly begin to understand and respect each other. She inspires him to be better and he helps her with her unresolved trauma.

They both share the feeling of being an outcast to their people. They both don't really feel like they're Chinese.

They both know how it feels to be abandoned by a parent. Young Jun’s mother abandoned him similar to how Wu’s father abandoned her.

Both never really had a childhood.

Also, being a victim of the tongs, Wu helps Jun realize just how terrible sex slavery is and how serious of a problem it is in Chinatown. He becomes much more sensitive to it.

Their main shipper is Hong.

Hong: You two are practically made for each other!

Young Jun: What the fuck are you talking about?

Hong: You have so much in common! You love prostitutes, Wu loves prostitutes. She has daddy issues, you have daddy issues-

Young Jun: Shut up Hong.

Hong: I'm just saying, jeez.

(I’ll make a more in-depth post about their relationship and her relationships with the other characters later.)

[swishswishspiritsword]

Merchant Shang AU 2

The panic didn't really set in until they arrived at his estate–and that was still a weird fact of his life, an estate–and he had Xiao She settle "Empress Su Xiyan" in the guest house. The not-a-maid kinda bodyguard looked at him with obvious disbelief at his address for the young woman, so unnerved by it she slipped enough that her eyes were golden with slitted pupils. Shang Houhua could empathize. He too was freaking out about the sudden occurrence and realizing your boss might be involved with the Big Boss of the world you specifically emigrated away from is distressing.

Although that did mean he could check another point for her being a snake demoness over a crane demoness in his mental chart.

Shang Houhua offered her a sympathetic grimace and awkward shoulder pat.

"Xiao She should go take a break," Shang Houhua said kindly. Or at least in his best attempt. He'd gotten better at socializing since he'd actually managed to curate Actual Human (And Non-Human) Relationships, but he was still a "work in progress" as Luo Ren put it delicately or a "disaster in emotional understanding" according to the ever blunt Steward He.

Shang Houhua was kinda hoping he was somewhere in the middle.

Xiao She had given him a Look and Shang Houhua knew that it meant he would find his very irritable not-a-maid insisting on keeping watch over him personally until this situation was handled.

Or Shang Houhua was dead.

He wasn't actually sure which would come first. And was very carefully not actively thinking about it until his internal screaming could become external in the safety of his heavily warded fluffy bed.

"Yes, Master Shang," Xiao She said with a little more hiss on the words than usual. That may have been a flash of fang. 

Shang Houhua winced. So, his staff may be a bit more upset about the revelations than normal. He hesitated a little unsure if he should point it out considering the general Ignore Everything Rule the mixed species estate ran by.

"...Xiao She may want to compose herself in private unless she has decided to, ah, be more, hm, free with her identity."

That probably wasn't terribly delicate, but Shang Houhua was running on fumes, adrenaline, and specific Plot Related panic he hadn't had to deal with in a solid decade. Shang Houhua nodded again in awkward acknowledgment and Did Not See Xiao She dash up to the roof to avoid corridors or the way the charcoal girl had a thin rat-like tail poking out the bottom of her skirt. Shang Houhua had not seen things for years and went to his room to collapse in peace after one last order for the doctor to be sent to Su Xiyan's room.

-

Shang Houhua hadn't actually meant to turn his estate into some kind of halfway house for more pro-human demons or half-demons. Honestly, owning an estate in the first place had been an accident caused by picking up what could only be described as a side quest. During his early wandering around the great (terrible) world he created, free from his "fate" he'd stumbled into being a rogue cultivator to pay the bills. 

He needed money! Starting up businesses took a lot of it. And connections too! If Logistics Hell taught him anything it was this. So he used what he had to get by.

And honestly he wasn't actually terrible it turned out? He would never be a War God but he did pay attention to the basics, was a resourceful (read cheating) man,and had wanted to avoid being brutally murdered by what passed as a houseplant on some peaks. Besides as Author God he did know more than the average Sect Dropout.

Most people didn't really need big things either. He did minor things to get by. He made talismans to help ward off wandering monsters from farmers livestock and fields. He performed purifying rituals on a town's toddlers to help insure they were protected even after death. He helped fetch some plants to heal someone or an item to break a curse. It had felt a little like playing through an RPG and it wasn't the most stable but Shang Houhua was revelling in not having a bluescreen of death stalking his every breath of air.

The estate had happened when, a very tired and recently poor, Shang Houhua had met Old Sun. Old Sun was one of those eccentric independently wealthy men who never married and liked to collect weird shit. Among that weird shit was something cursed which made the entire estate a horror zone. Old Sun had done everything to stop it. He'd tried to get rid of it only for it to find him. He'd tried to get it blessed at a temple only for it to throw the monks around like dolls until they'd called quits. He'd tried to move away abandoning his home in the city for his estate in bumfuck nowhere. He'd hired cultivators, other rogues, only for them to take the money and split.

He could only dismiss his staff to protect them and set out to beg help from one of the righteous sects with the increasingly starving ghost dogging his steps and weakening him.

Shang Houhua had found the old man collapsed on the road and helped out, noticing the nice clothes he'd been wondering idly about a possible reward, when resentful energy started to waft off him making Shang Houhua choke on his lunch.

Thankfully he'd recognized the item, a minor cursed bangle of a famous courtesan that had been part of a mini quest. After working his way through as many cursed jewelry plotlines as he could he'd eventually remembered this specific bangle and set the spirit to rest, dispersing the resentful energy. 

Old Sun had woken up happy, healthy,and uncursed. He was so grateful he insisted Shang Houhua come spend the night at his home and be rewarded. Shang Houhua was not about to say no and happily accepted. He could, literally, not afford any chance at money.

He just hadn't expected the man to adopt him, shamelessly dragging him into his house.

After a while Shang Houhua accepted because he actually liked sleeping in a bed and he gained his third family. Fourth if you counted his shortly lived martial family. It took some adjustment but Shang Houhua wound up actually liking Old Sun and, even more bewildering, was liked in return. Shang Houhua helped him identify the weird shit he collected, occasionally adding to the collection, and Old Sun feed and clothed him all while cheerfully listening to rants about story ideas.

Shang Houhua had no trouble picking out his favorite, his first real and positive, family member. 

It was on one of his trips to buy ingredients to start up his soap business that had started him down the road of Demonic Social Worker. He'd helped hide one terrified teenager from a mob, sneaking her out of town, and next thing he knows she's turning up at the estate to ask to repay him. Old Sun insisted on offering her a position and kept insisting as others slowly trickled in as the Don't Ask policy of their staff choices spread and they slowly filled the empty house.

Old Sun had been delighted by the noise and people they gathered while he'd been alive. He'd happily bounced the stablemaster's baby with suspicious sharp teeth and pointy ears on his knee and chatted enthusiastically with Steward He about his collection ignoring when the man fell into first person describing the bloody history of some demonic items.

Shang Houhua had simply continued the tradition when he'd suddenly inherited and expanded it with his business, spreading out their household as traders and managers when he could.

He was fairly certain Luo Ren and himself were the only fully human people in the building. 

–

Honestly a future Demon Empress was only the next step up. Or at least that's what he tried to tell his panicking mind. And she wasn't permanent. He would lead her to Tianlang-jun and happily fuck off back to obscurity. 

Definitely. 

A knock interrupted his screaming and Shang Houhua removed the pillow from his face to clear his throat and give permission to enter. 

It was Steward He and the man was looking unruffled as always, at least until Shang Houhua noticed the way his hands were carefully hidden in his robes, his skin seemed unnaturally smooth and more youthful, and his eyes were amber tinted. 

Also upset then.

"Lady Xiyan is demanding an audience," Steward He said mostly neutrally in a way that meant he was far from neutral. "And we've received a request from a group of Huan Hua Palace cultivators to scour the town and our grounds in search of a missing disciple. The town's leaders have instructed them to obey your decision on the matter."

Shang Houhua shoved the pillow back down and Steward He allowed him a few moments to scream.

Part 1 - Part 3

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 21 - A jealous husband?

A/N: Chapter 21 is up! Isaac confronts Diana, like a jealous husband! By the way, Henry, Diana's cousin face claim is 'Henry Cavill', and Sam McLean's face claim is Sam Heughan.

Oh, before I forget, if you don't like the story, please do move on to others, the internet has lots of them. Please don't hurt writers, ya? Good! so without further ado...

TWENTY-ONE

A jealous husband

"Diana!" her cousin, Henry approaches her. "That was a stellar performance!" he compliments.

Every time Henry and she are seen together, people often mistake them for siblings. The blue cold eyes, thick eyebrows, strong jawline, and dark hair were the signature that belonged to their family.

"Thank you, Henry!" was her grateful reply. "But I know why you are here for, go and lead the way!" she says, as he leads her to where her father sat. She knew what Henry approached her for. It was time for her father's interrogation and lengthy sermon.

Francis watched Henry, followed by Diana, approaching him where he sat.

"Relax Uncle..." Henry says, as he taps his uncle's shoulder, telling him to listen instead of scolding Diana. He then walks away to give the two space.

He took a deep breath before turning to his daughter. " Why don't you take a seat..." he offers, patting the empty space beside him, which she took.

"First of all, why are you singing at a wedding?" he tried to sound calm instead of being confrontational.

" I was trying to earn money to buy a 3D Printer," was her direct answer.

" Why?"

"I'm trying to build a small workshop studio, and I need a 3d printer..."

"Oh..." Francis was taken aback, he didn't expect his daughter to have such plans. "But what happened to the money you got from the sale of your old penthouse with Jesse?"

"That, I'm keeping it to the side. I plan to use it to buy real estate and most probably have the place rented for passive income. If not, I'll turn it into the workshop studio. I planned to save money, but I think I'd earn more if I were to rent the place out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, was this still the same Diana whom he met a few weeks ago? No! This Diana has ambition, plans and direction. She was actively taking charge of her life. "Wow! I did not expect that... That is actually a good plan"

Diana smiled and just nodded.

"Do you need help?" he offers, sincerely this time, without a hint of being condescending.

"Maybe? From time to time, Thank you! Da!" Diana says gratefully. "Your advice and input would be helpful from time to time" she adds.

"That was a stellar performance by the way!" Francis complements his daughter. " Those wedding songs reminds me of a time when I was..." he said trying to find the word.

"Hopeful? Yes, I did feel the same..." she admits to her father.

Francis sighs. " You know, I really did love your mother. It may have not gone well for the both of us, but not once did I regret loving her,"

Diana looks at her father, surprised at his sudden confession. Not once did her father open up to her about this issue.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Da! She hurt you!" she exclaims.

"Yes, she did... and I may have done things that I shouldn't have, but what happened to us in the past, is what makes us who we are now. We grow and become wiser,"

"I guess you do have a good point..." she agrees. It made her think about her past abusive relationships, and what it thought her. Though it was terrible, it made her learn and it made her wiser.

"So how did you exactly end up here?"

"That's a really long story..."

" We have a lot of time,"

She began her story (omitting some parts of course) and told him about the music director Aedan looking for an alto-soprano which led her to where she is now.

"I see... I am glad you're able to use your classical training, anyways, when is the date of your performance?" he inquired.

"Why?"

"I want to see it of course!" he declares.

**********

"I see trees of green. Red roses too, I see them bloom. For me and you. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world..." Diana opens the dance floor for everyone, with the song 'What a wonderful world'. The strings followed, in harmony with her voice.

Couples, young and old, approached the dance floor and began dancing to the sweet tune.

The night was about to end, and she was grateful that her performance went well. Hopefully, she would also perform well with the orchestra at the outdoor theatre.

"I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do They're really saying I love you..."

She scanned the area and saw her cousin, Henry, being surrounded by girls. She stopped her from rolling her eyes, knowing that he was a known ladies man, even since they were young. On one side was her father who seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting with others. The atmosphere felt jolly that she swore she'd try to catch up with Henry or talk some more with her father after finishing the song.

"I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself... What a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself... What a wonderful world. Ooh, yes I think to myself... What a wonderful world..." and with the last verse, Diana closes the song and the audience applauded. She smiled and thought, that it was still somehow a wonderful world despite everything she had gone through, there was still things she was thankful for.

With a sigh, she gives a toast to the newly married couple, and then turned to the quintet and thanked them, which gained her another set of 'Thank you's coming from them.

She looks around and found the bar, wanting a cold drink, preferably a beer. It's been weeks since she had anything cold and gassy. It wouldn't hurt from time to time to have an ice-cold beer after a long day of singing.

Wasting no time, she requested a pint of ice-cold craft beer on tap from the bar-tender, and he quickly poured her one large pint, its surface bubbling.

"Good job out there, you earned it, enjoy!" the bartender says, before moving to other requests.

"Thanks!" was her response.

She looked around trying to find Henry or her father in the crowd, whilst drinking her glass. However, before she could even make a move. Her father had already gone up to the podium, about to start his 'godfather' speech and before she could even look for Henry, a handsome guy had already sat beside her and tried to engage her in a conversation.

"Hello..." was his greeting, his voice deep. She looked at the colour of his kilt's Tartan, and immediately knew which family he is from.

"Wait! your name is probably something McLean!" she declares.

"Oh! wait, are you a Scott too?! Well, I am Sam McLean..." he said, stretching his hand for a handshake which she gladly took. She felt a little confident today, and talking to a handsome man isn't so bad thing to do to pass the time. Unless he actually is an asshole otherwise. She already has an escape plan.

"You may call me, tonight..." was a flirty yet witty reply from her, causing Sam to laugh. "Or you may address me as, Diana"

"Well, Diana, that was a stellar performance throughout..." he compliments.

"Thank you! I'm glad you like it,"

"You have a very nice voice! So... may I buy you a drink?!" he offers.

"Of course! Or you could get me food since I haven't had my fill yet..." she said sheepishly, not having eaten anything yet.

"Oh! of course! what do you want to eat? I'll get it for you!" he offers.

" Cake" she implores, placing both her hands together as if praying.

"Of course, I'll be right back!" he said, immediately taking a small slice on a plate for her.

"There you go! Enjoy!" he says, pushing the small plate to her.

"Thank You, Sam!" she chuckles at the mention of his name. It was the same as the pseudonym she used when she wrote those 'love' letters to herself. "Thank you. I'd say 'God Bless you!', but it looks like He already did." was her flirtatious reply followed by a wink.

Sam bit his lips and laughed. He didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess..." he holds his laughter, and clears her throat, "So Diana, what do you do? Besides singing? "

"I am independently impecunious..." was her answer.

Sam throws his head back laughing, knowing that he had found a hilarious person and the night will definitely not be boring.

"Enough about me, Sam! Let's talk about how attractive you are!" she adds.

Sam takes a deep breath but ended up laughing once again. " You're too funny for words!" However, before he could even say more...

"Sammy, laddie, hands-off! that is my daughter you're flirting with!" Francis chastises Sam from the podium after he finished his speech, causing everyone to turn their attention to Diana and Sam at the bar, upon finding out that she is Francis' daughter.

"Well, nice to meet you Diana!" he says. "Yikes..." and slowly backs away from her. It didn't matter how beautiful she is to him, she was Francis's Rutherford's daughter and there is no way she would want to incur her father's wrath.

"Sam? wait!" she says, perplexed at his sudden change.

**********

"Sam is an international playboy, he isn't the ideal man to date!" Henry says as he fiddled with his phone. Seated beside him inside the car is his cousin Diana, whom he ended up sending back home instead, as his Uncle, Francis, still had to stay at the wedding reception.

"Oho! You're one to talk Henry! " Diana chuckles, knowing her cousin's reputation.

"It can't be helped..." was his response.

"Should I tell the girls who chase after you, the same thing you told me?"

"It won't work... they'll chase after me more!" he declares, and both of them erupted in laughter, including their chauffeur in the front seat of the car, at how true the statement was.

"Well, aren't you afraid I'd chase Sam more?" she asks.

"You won't" was his quick reply.

"Because life has already knocked some sense out of you..." was his confident statement, aware of what Diana had gone through, all those years.

"I guess you're right," she sighs and smiles at herself, turning her attention to the view outside the car, whilst a classical piano rendition of 'Moon River' played inside the vehicle, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

"Lady Rutherford, we're here..." their chauffeur announces, and he gets out of the 'Ghost' to open the car for her.

"Thank you, Higgins!" she says, referring to Henry's chauffeur who opened the car door for her.

Henry followed after, alighting at the other side of the car. "Let me send you to your door..." he offers.

"Yes, walk me there," she says, as Henry walked beside her.

"We should have lunch sometime, eh? It's been a long time since I caught up with you!"

"Yes, we should do that" she agrees.

" If you don't mind, Mum wants to catch up with you too, can she come along?"

"Of course Aunt Minerva is more than welcome! How long has it been?!" she realizes suddenly that she had met her immediately family for years now since she started her relationship with Jesse, that was no longer the case now.

"It's set then" he declares, trying to find a spot inside his phone's calendar. "I'll set the time next weekend..."

"Alright! Well here's my door" she says turning to him to give him a quick hug.

Henry gladly returns her embrace " I'm glad you're in a better place now!" he adds, giving her shoulder a squeeze as an affirmation. "Well, I have to go, I have an early day tomorrow!"

However, before Henry could leave, the door opens to reveal Isaac, glaring at him.

"I'd normally say get a room, but this isn't a hotel" was the first thing Isaac said, the moment he opened the door, and 'caught' Diana, and some man, embracing each other in front of his door.

Henry looked at him puzzled, and when he realized that Isaac got the wrong idea about them, he released Diana from his arms. "Eww..." he grimaced and quickly turns around and gave a two-finger salute before he left "See you, Diana!"

Diana took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to burp before entering the house. She had four large pints of beer and 2 slices of cake which made her feel bloated, which made her feel regretful going on a drinking spree.

"Diana?" Isaac called, which she almost didn't notice because she was busy nursing the bloatedness.

"Mmmmm?"

"Remember you had 10 things you have to do for me?"

Diana just nods and covers her mouth, trying to burp as silent as she can. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm gonna use 1, let's have a talk..." was his stern reply.

"Dr Skovgaard? can we do this tomorrow?" she pleads, as she was bloated and tired.

"No, because I don't know where you will disappear to again..." he reprimands.

She sighs as she follows him to the dining room where a long session of scolding and preaching awaits her.

She sits down, resigned to her situation and prepared herself for Isaac's long preaching.

"Diana, you often disappear and reappear to I do not know where to, it's like I'm living with a Ghost. And when I message you, you do not respond..."

"But I do respond!" she reasons.

"Yes, two days later..."

"Oh... hehehe... I'm busy, sorry, please don't be mad at me" she apologizes, and laughs softly, struggling to also hide her drunkenness.

"Busy with what exactly??!!" he inhales sharply.

"Uhhh.... you know, things? work? earning a living?" she says a little sluggish. "You know, I gotta earn my keep..." the Scottish accent of hers, starting to come out.

"Men!?" he adds.

"Ahahaha yes... men" she giggles. "I'm not really busy with them, they're busy with me, which in turn... takes up a portion of my time, they're handsome, eye candies! So I guess it's worth the time..." she laughs.

"Unbelievable!" he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Dr Skovgaard, what are you really scolding me for?" she says, trying to suppress another burp.

He sighs " First, you disappear to who knows where and then reappear a few days later! You leave my message on 'read' and respond to them a day or two later as if I'm a weird guy you have been avoiding, and then you came home late, drunk! In the arms of another man! Do you know how I felt, do you know worried I was?!" he stressed out.

Diana stares at the tall ceiling and then laughs at the realizations " You make me sound like a stray cat who just comes home to eat!"

"I never said anything like that." he shakes his head in disapproval.

"I know... I'm just visualizing..." she adds, waving it off.

"Diana, you're not taking any of this seriously-"

She didn't know if it was drunkenness, but she felt a little brave, and without warning, got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Isaac. "Alright, my love... I'm sorry, so sorry, I promise not to do it again!" she says, as her arms tighten around his waist.

Isaac, caught off-guard, stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. "Diana?"

Diana just laughed, as she brought her hands to his cheeks. If anyone were to see them right now, it would look like they were a couple making up, after having a banter. "Oh, Dr Skovgaard... you sound just like a jealous husband!" she exclaims and laughs at his face. "You know I'd normally kiss you, but I'm not your beau..." she adds, tapping his cheek. "So, let's end this argument, and call it a day! I'm sorry, alright?! Good Night!" she says, kissing his cheek.

Isaac jolted in surprise due to her actions. He felt his cheeks, starting to get warm.

She releases Isaac from her embrace and sluggishly walked back upstairs, to her room, whilst singing a funny Scottish folk song and laughing halfway.

He sits down for a moment to collect himself and tried to process what had just happened. Trying to make sense of the feeling he currently has in his chest.

A/N: I have most probably made some grammatical errors, here and there... so I'd do some soft editing. I hope you enjoyed this one! I would also love to hear from you in the comments below.

[hopelikethemoon]

Reunion (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Reunion  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2700 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. December 24th 1998. This is getting split into two parts. I’ll get to more hopefully tomorrow.  Summary: Mitch arrives for Christmas. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​@plexflexico​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​@arrowswithwifi​ @random066 @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​@theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​ @jaime1110​

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” Steve questioned as he took a sip of beer, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“I was nineteen and it was Christmas.” You explained, “I went to college in the city, I could’ve easily visited more often, but…” You shrugged, tugging at the ties of your apron, moving to hang it on the hook on the wall.

“You nervous?”

You laughed, “That’s an understatement. It’s all very weird, honestly. Is there going to be resentment because I just ghosted out of their lives? Do they really want to come?”

“Well,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck. “People don’t rearrange their Christmas schedule if they don’t want to. I’m sure after eighteen years, your brother wants to reconnect.”

“You know,” You started with a smile. “You and Connie reminded me of Mitch and Darla.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You both welcomed me into your home when I moved to Colombia.” You smiled at him. “So don’t get too jealous that my actual big brother has shown up.”

“You thought of me as a brother?” Steve taunted, clutching his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You snorted. “Get the cookies out when the timer goes off.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

You headed out of the kitchen into the family room where Monica and Connie were corralling the girls. “Where’s Javi?”

“Bedroom.” Monica supplied, sweeping Sofía into her arms, much to the little girl’s amusement. 

“Thanks.” You replied, “Everything good here?”

Connie smiled at you, “We’ve got it covered.” 

“Good.” You sighed, before you made your way down the hallway towards the bedroom. You pushed open the door, stepping inside and shutting it behind you. “Are you hiding?”

“No.” Javier chuckled, catching your gaze in his reflection as he held up a tie in front of his chest. “Which one?”

“You’re meeting my brother, not the president.” You rolled your eyes. “What about the burgundy button up? It’ll go nicely with my dress.”

Javier pursed his lips as he considered, “Slacks still?”

“Are you comfortable in them?” You shook your head, moving towards the closet to retrieve the burgundy button up off the hanger. 

“I’m not uncomfortable.” He admitted, unbutton the cuffs of his white shirt. “I just wanna make a good impression.”

“Then be yourself,” You said as you stepped in front of him, draping the shirt over your arm as you started unbuttoning the shirt for him. “Mitch was always laidback. He was actually a lot like my father, and I’ve always told you that he would’ve loved you.”

“Yeah?” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I want this to be a good experience for you, baby.”

Javier’s brows rose upwards and he caught your hand, examining the ring on your right hand. “When did pops give this to you?”

Your cheeks burned, “Thanksgiving. Are you… are you okay with me wearing it?” 

You had meant to tell Javier about it when you were still in Laredo, but there was never a right time to bring it up — Monica, Nadia, and the girls were constantly around. You didn’t want it to bring up questions. It didn’t fit your ring finger, which was an unexpected blessing. But it did fit the middle finger of your right hand like it was made to be worn there. 

“Of course I’m alright with you wearing it, baby.” Javier lifted your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I didn’t realize pops gave it to you.” 

“I understand he tried to give it to you before.” 

Javier huffed, “Fairly certain if I’d given it to you then, you would’ve run for the hills.”

You scrunched up your nose, “I might’ve been uncomfortable, but I would’ve stayed right here.” You cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby.” He bumped his nose against yours. “What does your brother do again?”

“I think he’s still in real estate brokerage.” You brushed your fingers over Javier’s forehead, playing with his hair. “Basically real estate agents work under him? I never understood it as a kid.” You shrugged, undoing the last button of his shirt. “Change. They should be here soon.”

Javier gave your ass a playful swat as you turned to walk away and you couldn’t help but flip him off. 

You pulled up the shade, peering out the bedroom window, “Pops and Stevie sure have hit it off.” You remarked, watching as the older Peña tossed a ball across the yard, only for the dog to retrieve it and bring it back to him. 

“He’s probably got himself a joint out there,” Javier quipped as he pulled on the burgundy shirt, doing up the buttons before he turned to show himself off. “Better?”

“Much.” You walked back towards him, curling your arm around his waist as you turned him back towards the mirror, marvelling at your reflections. “We look good together, don’t we?”

Javier kissed your temple, “Don’t stress it, baby. Your brother’s going to be thrilled to see the life you’ve built, baby.” 

“We’ve built.” You corrected him, leaning into his side. “I’m going to go make sure Steve got the cookies out.” You glanced at your wrist watch. “Oh God, they’re going to be here in like ten minutes.” 

“Baby,” He caught your hand when you started to pull away from him. “You’ve got this. Don’t stress it.” 

“Easier said than done,” You made a face, before inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. 

“What’s your nephew’s name?”

“Tate.” You answered breezily. “And he’s like… twenty-five now, I think. Maybe twenty-six.” 

“Tate.” Javier repeated, putting it to memory. “What does he do?”

“I honestly have no idea.” You admitted, “Last time I saw him, he was like ten.” 

“Damn.” Javier followed you out of the bedroom. 

“Did you two have fun in there?” Steve called out. 

Javier flipped him off. “She was helping me pick out shirts.”

“God, Peña… you’ve gone soft.”

“Steve.” Connie warned him, stifling a laugh before gesturing between you and Javier. “You’re very complimentary.”

You smoothed your hands over the black and floral dress you had chosen to wear. “I didn’t know what said — merry Christmas, it’s nice to see you after almost two decades!”

“When’s Santa coming?” Josie questioned, popping her head over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know how much longer I can be good.”

“It’s true. She’s a menace.” Monica deadpanned.

“Well,” You started, reaching over the sofa to play with her hair. “Can you stay good while your Uncle is here?”

“Uncle Steve?” 

“No, not Uncle Steve.”

“Oh,” She nodded thoughtfully. “Cause daddy told me I don’t have to mind him.”

“Javier!” Steve barked with a laugh. “You making trouble for me with the girls?”

Javier shrugged, “Maybe.”

Stevie started barking in the backyard a mere moment before Chucho slid open the backdoor, “I think we’ve got company.”

“Oh God.” You reached for Javier’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You’ve got this, baby.” Javier assured you, squeezing your hand three times before releasing it. 

The doorbell rang. 

The last time you had seen your brother, you had been nineteen years old and tired of feeling like a burden — even though you weren’t. Mitch and Darla had wanted you there, but you had misunderstood their generosity for pity. 

You understood that now, because you’d seen it in Monica’s eyes, you heard it in her words. That innate fear that kindness was only kindness because someone was sorry for you. 

But things would’ve been different if you’d strayed from the path you’d ended up on. Darla was keen to mold you into a mini-her. You’d gone to your fair share of charity dinners and museum fundraisers to know your life would’ve been filled with snobby rich people and blue collar crime. 

If you had stayed there, you’d probably married to some man with a country club membership and a taste for couples tennis. 

You wouldn’t be standing in Miami, surrounded by the friends that had become a family you chose for yourself. 

And in the end, you hoped Mitch didn’t resent you for bouncing without offering a forwarding address. 

You inhaled deeply before you opened the door. 

“Hey, kid.” Mitch was still Mitch. He was still all warm smiles and kind eyes, though his dark black hair had gone grey at the edges. There were lines around his eyes and lips, because time had passed. Memories stood still, but all around you the world had moved on, just like you had. 

“Hi.” You breathed out, before you stepped over the threshold and hugged him. 

Behind him stood Darla, older too, but still just as regal as she’d been in her youth. “It’s so good to see you again,” She smiled, taking you into her arms once Mitch released you. 

It felt like just last week, she’d sat on your bed and talked about how badly she wanted a daughter. How she couldn’t understand how your mother had thrown away that opportunity to have a mother-daughter relationship. 

You never asked why, but you knew Tate was still their only child. 

“Look at you!” You remarked, taking in the young man loitering behind them, hands stuffed into his suit jacket. “Last time I saw you, you were this tall.” You gestured to your hip. “Do you still like Hot Wheels?”

Tate laughed, “Is that the requirement to attend Christmas dinner?”

“If you ask my daughter, yes. I made the mistake of telling her about the collection you used to have. She’s got a track in her bedroom.”

Darla nudged her son in the ribs, “He’s still got them all in his old room. I don’t think he’s ready to part with them.”

“Maybe they’d find a loving home with your daughter.” He suggested. 

“She’d be honored,” You turned and gestured through the door. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s already here.”

Mitch seemed rather surprised as he stepped inside your home, and took in the very crowded family room. 

Stevie barked softly, wrangling herself out of Javier’s hold as she curiously went about sniffing the guests. 

“This Stevie—“

“Nicks?” Mitch questioned with a grin. 

“The one and only.”

“Can’t think of anyone but you when ‘Go Your Own Way’ comes on the radio.” He admitted, leaning down to pet Stevie on the head. 

You felt goosebumps rise on your arms at his words, “I completely forgot about that.”

“Really?”

You nodded, laughing nervously. “I can assure you, I’m not lonely anymore.” You turned then, gesturing to Javier. “Mitch, this is my partner, Javier.”

Mitch held his hand out to shake Javier’s hand, “You’re a lucky man, you know that?”

“I consider myself the luckiest,” Javier assured him with a smile, before he shook Darla and Tate’s hands. “Thanks for bringing your family down for this. I know it means a lot to her.”

“Second she called, I knew I had to drop everything.” Mitch looked at you then, “How long had it been?”

“Too long.” You confessed. “Probably eighteen years.”

Mitch shook his head, “Time’s definitely not moving slowly.” 

“These are our daughters Josie, Sofía, and Monica.” You gestured to them. “And this is Monica’s girlfriend Nadia. Nadia’s holding Emily, who is Olivia’s sister.” You then gestured to the Murphys, “They’re our friends, Steve and Connie’s daughters.”

“And that’s my pops, Chucho.” Javier supplied, his hand smoothing over the small of your back. 

“Well, kid, you were certainly right. You don’t seem to be lonely anymore.” Mitch remarked with a grin as he squatted down to Josie’s height. “Do you know who I am?”

Josie shook her head, looking up at you then. In her very unsuccessful whisper, she asked, “Is this the not-Uncle Steve?”

You laughed and nodded, “This is your Uncle Mitch and his wife Aunt Darla. And their son Tate.” You played with her soft curls, “Uncle Mitch is my brother.”

“You have a brother mommy?” Josie reached up and grabbed at your hand. “I didn’t know that.”

You grimaced a little, “My past has always been a bit… verboten.” You admitted. 

“I get it.” Mitch shrugged, “No hard feelings.”

“None at all,” Darla assured you. “This is a beautiful house you have, sweetheart. I always hoped you had landed on your feet.”

“It was a little shaky at first,” You admitted. “But I think Javier and I have finally got it all figured out.”

“How long have you been together?” She questioned. 

Javier scratched at the back of his neck, “We started working together back in ‘87.” He nodded towards Steve. “That’s how we know Murphy.”

Mitch nodded as he listened. 

“We, uh… we didn’t end up together until ‘92.” Javier finished. 

“You know,” He started, “I read those articles. I just can’t believe that you put up with all of that. I couldn’t work for the government. No, sir.”

“You’re tall.” Josie said as she pointed at Tate. 

Tate chuckled, “And you're small.”

She put her hands on her hips, “Well that’s just because I’m five!”

“Five? I’m almost three times as old as you are.” Tate said enthusiastically. “Maybe that’s why I’m tall.” Tate stepped past his parents, “Do you have anything to drink?”

“We have beer,” Monica offered. “And non-alcoholic stuff.”

“There is plenty of beer,” Nadia added. “Especially when we’re wrangling little ones.”

“I’ve gotta ask—“ Darla started, once the three young adults had disappeared into the kitchen. “She’s got to be the same age as Tate, how is she your daughter?”

You looked between Darla and Mitch then, “I know I didn’t always seem grateful when I was with you, but I passed that generosity along.”

Javier took your hand, “Monica was in a bad situation and she needed parents. Ones that actually loved her.”

You blinked rapidly as you felt tears prickle in your eyes as you watched their eyes get misty too. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry, but… it’s a lot.”

“Take your time, kid.” Mitch gave your arm a squeeze. “So what are you doing these days? That’s an easy topic, right?”

You laughed, wiping at your eyes. “I’m wrapping up four-year stint with the Miami PD. Javier’s talked me into teaching at the university with him.”

“She didn’t mention that you taught,” Mitch nodded his head approvingly. “Good on both of you. The articles certainly made it seem like you’ve both got plenty to teach.”

“It’ll be a learning curve, but I’m excited to teach. Javi’s students have been great.”

“Dad would be so proud of you, kid.” Mitch shook his head slowly, holding your gaze. “I know, I know. No tears. But look at you! I always had big hopes for you, but this… the house, the kids, the partner.”

“This is a lovely photo of the two of you,” Darla pointed out, gesturing to the picture hung on the wall over the television. The one that had been taken mere minutes after you and Javier had gotten married. 

If only they knew. 

“And those girls of yours!”

You laughed, “They are a handful. We’re so lucky to have friends who help.”

Darla smiled at you, “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” You let go of Javier’s hand, hugging Darla again. “Thank you for everything you did for me when I was a kid.”

“Of course sweetheart.” She squeezed you tight. 

Sofía squirmed out of Connie’s hold, toddling over to the two of you. 

“You wanna meet your aunt, Sofía?” You questioned as you swept her up into your arms. “This is Miss Darla.” 

Sofía seemed skeptics at first, hiding her face against your shoulder. 

“Hey, wanna see the grill I just got?” Javier questioned, “Steve just helped me set it all up.”

“Early Christmas present in hopes he learns to grill,” You called out as the four men headed for the backdoor, “Men in their toys.” You remarked to Darla, as laughter from the kitchen filtered through. 

“I worried about you. A lot.” Darla told you, “But you did good all on your own.”

“I never thought I could be this happy.” You admitted. 

“You just had to ‘go your own way’, as a wise band once sang.”

[lsbaird]

The Devil’s Luck - Chapter Two Preview!

It’s a nice long one today, folks! Maybe snug up with a cup of coffee. If you’re just now joining in, the prologue is here, and chapter one is here! Today’s installment tells us more about Chancelion, the unfortunate Evern, the maybe more unfortunate Frey, why squirrels are bastards, and why you should lock up your books when Etienne comes to visit.

 Etienne woke up late the next morning feeling almost cheery.  It had been too rainy the night before to do a thorough scouting of the rooftops, and he had retired early.  His garish bed made up in feather ticking what it lacked in subtlety, and none of it could be seen in the dark anyway. He had slept like the sainted dead, though he still had to suppress a yelp when he woke and saw the room by daylight.  It was that damn cherub.  

He opened his curtains onto the gardens—the view was as lovely as promised, if still somewhat waterlogged—and took a deep breath. All would go well. A rocky start did not predict a rocky end, after all, and if he was going to make some flubs on his mission, it was better to make them at the beginning rather than at a more critical moment. He repeated these things to himself until he started to believe them, and turned away from the window to face his first morning at Chancelion.

The tea and soup from the night before had not yet been cleared away. Frey's servants had heeded his order not to disturb Lady Elsa, and even if they had tried, the chair Etienne had put under the door handle would have prevented it. He was pleased to see it had not shifted an inch. Trustworthy staff, Etienne thought, adding the tidbit to his growing list of household details.

His dress was still unpleasantly damp, even after spending the night spread over two chairs by the fire. Etienne had three gowns with him, which was enough for his deception, but any real noblewoman would feel destitute with so little.  Etienne padded across the bright carpets to the wardrobe lurking in the far corner.  Wearing a frock of his fiancé's choosing was a sure way to his heart, and as Lady Elsa's lady-maid and trunks of clothing were all fictitious, it seemed a shame not to have a look, at least.  It couldn’t be as awful as the rest of the room, could it?

Etienne tugged on the brass handles of the wardrobe doors, instinctively braced for whatever horror might await him.  But here, once again, Chancelion—or at least Chancelion’s master—surprised him.  

Shades of cool green and black washed over Etienne like a refreshing waterfall.  In the letters to Frey, which had been concocted by Ephaseus and written by Etienne, ‘Elsa’ had mentioned her preferences when it came to such things: an emphasis on clothes that would be best suited for the concealment of weapons, and for activities where accidents could happen.  Every least detail had been taken into account, even her (Etienne’s) antipathy to lavender. All the linens smelled of mint leaves, instead.

She would not be used to the cold, and as a result, there were three handsome wraps as well as a fine wool dressing-gown in Lady Elsa's favorite emerald hue.  Pearls were her favorite gem, and the embroidered bodices were stiff with them, no matter the outrageous price they commanded in Easting.  She enjoyed riding and hunting with birds, and so a green damask riding habit hung in the nearest corner, along with fine hawking gloves decorated with gold silk tassels.  A lady's riding boots occupied the bottom of the wardrobe, along with several different pairs of slippers.  An evening dress, suitable for a royal ball, was downright crunchy with its yards of thick gold lace; Etienne mourned that the neckline was far too low for his disguise.  Jewel boxes nestled on the shelves contained ropes of pearls, gold chain, and actual emeralds.  Etienne at once lost his vain little heart to a particular pair of pearl drop earrings, thinking they would look elegant on Elsa and rakish when worn with his usual black leathers.  

Perplexed by his findings, he looked at the room again, as though to make sure its hideous state had not been some fevered imagining on his part, but it was as outlandish as ever.  The wardrobe and its contents seemed to have come from some other chamber, possibly one in a different house.  

Etienne fingered the soft velvet of a split sleeve. The gown was a simple one for day wear, easy enough to get into on his own, and the already demure neckline could be made even more modest with a fichu hanging nearby.  After a moment's consideration, he pulled the dress from its hook and his mostly-dry corset from the windowsill, where he’d thrown it the night before.  

Dressing took him time and care; it was, after all, as much his arsenal as his disguise. The pins in his wig could pierce a man's heart, the flutter of lace at his throat concealed a fine length of garroting wire.  Poisons he had as well, of various sorts, but one in particular—the powder of the humble grensel blossom, concealed beneath the ruby on his forefinger—was for Etienne alone.

Etienne carefully measured out a tiny portion of the deadly nitoxis powder from the compartment on his ring, swirled it in his half-finished cup of tea from the night before, and drank it down.  It tasted like nothing but cold chamomile tea and orange peel, but he couldn't repress a faint shudder.  Playing dice with his own mortality was a dangerous business, but his immunity had saved his life six times so far.  Of course, the time he failed to keep up his doses the withdrawal almost killed him, but that was a hazard of the job.  It was a price he paid for being careless, and he'd learned, very quickly, to never be careless.

His weapons and dress secured, Etienne smoothed the sleeve of his gown to be sure the crimson brand on his wrist was well-covered, and swept out the door for breakfast.  

Once again, however, the actors had failed to assemble for the performance.  This time, it was the leading man that was missing, and Etienne was in the dining room before he found any of the other players at all.  

“Out at the cattle barn, miss,” Tobias whispered, as the maid dished up oat porridge and poached eggs on toast for Etienne, alongside fat sausages and potted chicken liver and fried apples and all the other morning delicacies of the country.  “One of the yearlings took ill in the night, and suffers naught but the Master to nurse it.”  

“He is good with animals, then?”  Etienne asked, napkin balanced on one hand to eat with a young lady's poise.  It would not do to give in to his own peculiar habits, such as pouring massive globs of honey on his sausages.  

“They take to him, aye,” the butler went on, in his creaky voice.  “But the stableman hopes that some of the Master's good fortune will rub off.  None he's nursed yet has fared poorly after.”

“Oh, how curious.  Is he so very lucky?”  Etienne sipped his at his tea like a bird tasting the air of a winter morning.  It had been put out for milady’s breakfast on ormolu trays, served in cups of a fine porcelain as fragile as frozen milk, but was weak enough to read a gospel through.  Coffee, to Etienne’s abiding regret, had not yet caught on in Easting. With a flash of longing he thought of Ephaseus' comfortable, parchment-scented study, a battered silver pot of black coffee laced with cacao powder at his elbow, and a thick book in his lap, leather armchair pulled up to the fire.  Resigned, Etienne contemplated swift murder, and dutifully drank his impotent tea.  

“Luck is what the unfaithful call the will of God,” Tobias wheezed, and it was lucky he had his back turned as he attended to the sugar tongs, so he missed the expression that crossed Etienne's face.  It was as much for the sanctimony as the weak tea.  “But it would seem heaven has seen fit for Lord Reichwyn to be uncommonly blessed in that regard.”

Etienne lifted his eyebrows, and wondered how quickly the uncommonly blessed Lord Reichwyn would sink in a swollen Easting stream after his lungs were punctured with a knife.  “When might you expect him back?”  

“He asked me to proffer his apologies, my lady, and inquire if you would do him the honor of going for a ride with him this afternoon.”  

Etienne's smile was winning, and genuine.  There were so many ways one could die, out on horseback in the country.  “I should be delighted.”  

“In the meantime, he bids you feel free to look around the house and grounds, and hopes you find them to your liking.”  

Etienne remembered that Elsa was supposed to have every intention of making Chancelion her future home, and as a result should take an active interest in things like the main hall carpet and the gutters. For himself, Etienne wondered if there was a decent library.  He finished his breakfast in spite of Tobias hanging off his elbow like a dried-up dungball, and went off to get a better grasp of the manor's layout.  

 Excepting the dearth of coffee, Chancelion was a well-appointed estate.  Frey, in his two years of holding the title of Lord Reichwyn, had devoted considerable time and effort to converting the neglected property into one of the finest holdings in the north.  Etienne spent the morning wandering the halls, not only checking to see which doors and windows were regularly unlocked but, more and more, with a genuine interest in the house.  It would have taken all day and some of the evening for a complete survey of the rambling manor, which he fully intended to do, until he was distracted in his reconnaissance by the scent of books.  

He was not prepared for the library.  Country manors were rarely outposts of learning, and at best one could expect to find an old volume of St. Justicia’s teachings, or an archaic treatise on mushrooms, or doggerel poetry about cows.  Or so Etienne supposed, and he was delighted to be proven wrong.   It was not expansive, that was certain, only a simple square room with one window. But it was quality.  Etienne knew that by the smell of old leather and quality parchment, as well as beeswax, which meant the room actually saw use.  Within a minute he had vanished into the library’s inviting shadows, and the rest of the morning slipped by with astonishing speed.

He had just persuaded himself to resume his work, and was heading for the other wing of the house to do so, when there was a commotion from the entrance below him.  Etienne gathered up the weight of his green velvet skirts (which had been made heavier with the weight of one or two rare editions that he was sure no one would miss) and peered over the balustrade into the stone-flagged entryway below.  

Freyton Reichwyn Landry had just returned from the stables, as muddy and strawy as any cattle-hand, beaming in spite of the state of his boots and coat.  His hair was falling out of his queue again, and his good spirits gave him the appearance of a boy returning from some successful caper.  He was wholesome enough to make Etienne shiver, as would any explorer in a foreign land when confronted with some strange and innocent animal.  Etienne didn’t think they even made them like that anymore.  Or ever.

“I think she'll pull through, Tobias,” Frey announced with triumph, shucking out of his waistcoat.  Etienne bit his lip and leaned slightly over the railing, watching closely, but Frey kept his shirt on. Even going out to the stables he had it buttoned to the wrists.  His neckerchief was modest in terms of ruffle, but he wore it wound up to his jaw like an old-fashioned city lawyer.  Etienne let out his breath in frustration as Frey put on his more gentlemanly boots.  “But it's coming up another rain, I'm afraid.  Touring the grounds with Lady Elsa will have to wait.  Have you seen her?”

“Lady Elsa is inspecting the house, sir,” Tobias answered.  

“Ah, well, I hope she hasn't gotten herself lost!” Frey pulled on the coat Tobias offered, a somber thing of brown velvet and gilt buttons, more suited for his role as manor lord, trading it for the threadbare tweed he had worn for nursing cattle.  

Etienne pondered the advantages of making an entrance just then, but chose instead to retreat backstage to his rooms for the moment. For one thing, he wanted to dispose of his stolen books in his traveling bag, and for another, there was a trap to be laid.  

Etienne paused by his dressing-table for a brief dose of powder and perfume, and then went out in the corridor and proceeded to get lost.  Not terribly lost, of course, only a little bit lost, just a short way inside the unexplored wing of Chancelion and out of sight.  He knew his perfume would do the rest.  He also knew, from the sound of boots on the carpet down the hall, that a splendid, fated rendezvous was imminent.  

Etienne positioned himself at a cross-corridor, between a suit of archaic tilting armor and a large ceramic urn, and put on his very best winsome and bewildered expression.  

For once, the leading man knew his cue.  Frey appeared around the corner with impeccable timing, redoing his ribbon and whistling a country jig.  His eyes lit up at the sight of his betrothed in the corridor, and he quickened his pace along the landing.  

“Here you are!  I hope you haven't been too dreadfully bored, have you?��  

“Oh!”  Etienne said, wringing his hands and turning in surprise, as though he had not in fact been counting Frey's boot-falls, and had not known full well just when to look up to best effect.  “Lord Freyton!  I'm ever so glad to see you.  I'm afraid I've gotten turned around entirely.  Is this the way back to the east wing?”  

Frey shook his head.  “I must beg your forgiveness, Lady Elsa.  I have been terribly rude to abandon you this morning, without even a guide around the house!  I should have sent Tobias with you to show you the lay of the manor.”  

“We'd still be in the foyer,” Etienne muttered, and then caught himself with an internal curse as Frey’s eyebrows shot upwards. Elsa would never say that!  Not about such a dear, kind old soul!  “I mean,” he hastened to add, “He is elderly, and I fear it would be too much strain for me to drag him all over at my pace, and…” Etienne hit on it all at once, and it was so obvious, he was ashamed it had taken him so long.  “Well, the truth of it is, I was searching for a room.”  

“A room?”  Frey echoed, with a careless smile.  “Well, there are dozens of them, Lady, you may have your pick.  Is your chamber not to your liking?”  

Etienne's laugh was a little thin. That had been a close call.  “Not for me, My lord.  One room in particular has caught my fancy,” he continued.  “I have heard a legend told of this place: the great ghost story of Chancelion.  In Ivanis City, they say that your great-uncle Evern Reichwyn played a hand of cards with the devil, and lost, and was dragged down to hell for payment.  Is it true that the room where they gambled is still locked up, untouched?”  

All of the good humor had fled Frey's face.  For a moment Etienne thought he had gone too far, and some fast back-stepping would be required, but Frey shook himself and dredged up a smile from somewhere.  It was a thin ghost of the previous one, however, and did not reach his eyes.  

“Ah, I should have known you would be curious,” he said, sadly.  “I suppose even in the south, the misfortune of Chancelion is known?”  

Etienne clutched his hands in his skirts, consternated. “Forgive my inconsiderate curiosity, my lord.  Of course, it is a family matter here, and a serious thing, not some scandalous fireside rumor told in a salon in the city...”  

“Frey,” Frey said, with a touch of his old humor. “Call me by name, lady, and I will grant your desire, any desire.”  

Etienne felt his pulse quicken, in spite of himself. He told himself it was only the hot blood of the chase.  “So he did play a hand with the devil?  There is such a room?”  

Frey shrugged.  “I wasn't there at the time, so I don't know about the devil or not. But there is such a room, yes, and it is indeed untouched, as far as I know.  It's a morbid curiosity, really, and in my eyes it is the sad remnant of a man who went mad and nothing more.  But I cannot deny the air of the place, and I've no heart to disturb it. The servants refuse to speak of the room at all, so one can hardly expect them to go in and tidy it up. There is only one key, and it is mine. I am not sure if such a place is suitable for you, even if it is only a legend.”  

Etienne's curiosity was now well and truly piqued. So Freyton Reichwyn Landry—who if Etienne’s information was true, was the Devil's Heir apparent himself—doubted the legend of Chancelion, and his own great-uncle's fate?   “I assure you, Lord Freyton, I am not prone to histrionics or fainting.  I can endure the sight of a dusty chamber with a tall tale tacked onto it.”  

“Then I will show it to you,” Frey said, and reached for the ring of keys at his belt.  “Provided, of course, that you meet my condition.”  

“Your condition?”  Etienne echoed, and then remembered.  “Ah yes.”  He paused to taste the name a little before letting it out.  “...Frey.”  

His suitor smiled once again, and it was as though the sun had come out, though rain still hammered down like musket-fire on the leaded glass windows.  “That is much better,” he said, and swept his arm towards the left-hand corridor.  “This way, my Lady.”  

Frey knew the passages of his rambling house as though they were the contours of his own bedchamber.  Even though he had only lived there for two years, he could recite the date of every tapestry, the tournaments won or lost in every suit of armor, the artist of every portrait.  Knowledge of his ancestral home was a matter of some pride for the young landholder, and as he had been unaware of his birthright for most of his life, he took it as both his duty and his pleasure.

Etienne did not have to feign interest on Elsa's behalf; he had a weak spot for history and the halls of Chancelion had their wealth spread out in a tasteful sheen, instead of the overcrowded luxuries of his room.  Frey led Etienne across a landing and through a side-passage, then down a staircase of coiled squares, the railing-posts mounted with exquisitely carved hawks.  

“They were an addition of his,” Frey said, patting one of the birds on its shiny head.  “He liked it a great deal, I've heard.  Hawking.  You enjoy it as well, don't you?  Perhaps tomorrow it will be dry enough to go out.”  

“His?”  Etienne repeated.  

“Uncle Evern,” Frey said.  “I never met the man, but Tobias was here at the time, you know. Much younger, of course. He knows everything about the place.  I'm a mere amateur by comparison.”  Frey had paused at the landing, under an ornate window with stained glass in the pattern of the Reichwyn arms, emblazoned on a shield held by a pair of rampant cats.  On a sunny day, it would have splashed them both with blues and golds, but in the rainstorm, it was darkened as though in mourning.  The device featured crowns and stars and moons and suns—-the same as Evern's ill-fated round of card suits.  Etienne wondered if Frey had picked those motifs when he came to inherit, or if his Great-Uncle had chosen them when he won Chancelion.  Etienne shuddered as he turned his back to the window. Perhaps it was only that the Archdemon had a wretched sense of humor.  

“This way,” Frey said, once he had finished adjusting a bit of the stair-carpet that had buckled up under its rod.  “Bloody thing is always coming up.  Someone's going to trip on it and break his neck, honestly.”  

Would it were that easy, Etienne thought, but he took note of the step, just in case.  Maybe on the way back.

They soon left the refurbished parts of the house, plunging back into older, dusty passages. Bits of plaster had fallen from the walls to reveal bare stone.  Crates were stacked against the walls, and moth-eaten hunting trophies glared down at them from the high walls, their glass eyes disturbingly lifelike in their gaunt heads.  Frey and his guest had encountered no servants in their journey, and there seemed to be little chance of doing so now.  

“I must apologize for the state of this wing,” Frey said, shoving aside an old oak table to allow more room in the passage for his lady's copious skirts.  “My predecessors in the title were an unscrupulous lot, though I pray Saint Justicia had mercy at their souls' trial. They ransacked the house and sold most things of value.  I've only just gotten the present rooms in a fit state to live in.  It's something of an ongoing project—oh, damn.”  A suit of armor had collapsed on itself, scattering pauldrons and greaves across the hallway like the wreckage of an upset carriage. Frey reached back a hand to help his lady across the mess.  “Mind that spur, it can't be at all nice to step on.  In truth, when I took the house, it all looked like this, and there wasn't much left in the coffers.”  

“You've done splendidly with the manor,” Etienne murmured.  “I had no idea it was in such a state when you came to your title.”

“Well, to be honest, it was worse than this.  They were keeping pigs in the great hall, and had burned most of the furniture and banisters for firewood.  I'm only glad they didn't touch the library.  For one, I doubt they could read, and for another, Tobias locked the doors and claimed to have misplaced the key.  Lucky thing he did.  You enjoy reading, my lady?”  

“A great deal,” Etienne answered, with honest enthusiasm.  

Frey was delighted in turn by his bride's delight.  “Then you must see our library.  Do you know we have an ancient account of the binding of the Archdemon, in the very hand of the scholar D'Grassa?”  

“Do you really?”  Etienne said, his eyes wide, showing no sign that the leather-bound original D'Grassa was in his traveling case at that very moment.  “That's extraordinary.”  

“I can't read it, of course,” Frey said, apologetically.  “But you mentioned—in your second letter, I believe—that you dabbled in the pre-Justician letters?  I'd be honored if perhaps you could go over some of it with me. Some night after supper perhaps?”  

“I shall do my best,” Etienne said, hoping his smile wasn't too fixed.  He either needed to find a way to smuggle those stolen books back into the library, or to brain his fiancée before the subject could come up again.  Though it was a pity, he thought.  So few people want to learn the old letters in this day and age. I finally find one who wants to, and I have to kill him instead.

Frey was counting tapestries.  “Seven, six...  ah. Here it is.  The one with the hunt on it.”  Faded figures writhed across the wall-hanging, racing their dogs and horses pell-mell into the yawning holes made by age and vermin, all in the determined pursuit of a stained-looking stag.

“Was it always a hidden room?”  Etienne asked, as Frey shoved up the tapestry with his elbow, and jangled through his ring of keys in search of the right one.  “I mean, doesn't it strike you as a bit odd, that Evern would be playing cards in some hidden room?”

“Oh, no. It wasn't always hidden.  This is the old armory.  Evern had it converted into a games room, and Tobias tells me he always came here after dinner to play cards or dice with his friends.  There were no guests the night of the last hand, but he would dice on his own.”  Frey had found the key he wanted, a rather elegant one for such a room.  Etienne had been expecting a slab of iron with a rough tooth, the sort for locking manacles.  “The room was shut up and covered afterwards, by some superstitious second cousins of mine who inherited next.  They weren't here long; the lady of the house went mad and wound up drowning herself in the duck pond.  The staff insists her ghost’s been sighted regularly around the grounds ever since, not that I've run into her myself, but we did just have a scullery maid quit a fortnight ago after supposedly seeing her.”  The lock gave a surprisingly well-oiled click. “There. Mind the tapestry.”  

Etienne held up one arm to ward off the moldering folds of the hunt scene, and followed Frey's gesture into the fabled chamber.  The overwhelming impression was one of dust, but that was only to the eyes. There were other senses to be assailed, other messages to heed, and they presented themselves at once, to the detriment of all others.  

The moment Etienne crossed the threshold, the crimson tattoo on his wrist burst into pain, burning as though freshly inscribed.  Etienne could feel every needle-stroke of the protective seal upon his skin.  He put one hand to his wrist, grasping the mark hidden by his sleeve, and struggled to think past the agonizing warning.  For Etienne was far more than a common-garden villain and garrotter.  He was a sworn and bloodied member of the Order of the Crimson Seal, founded by Vynae himself after the defeat of the Archdemon centuries ago.  Etienne was an elite soldier standing against a tide of black magic and foul sorceries. His was a sword of brilliant reason in the darkness, and he was branded and oathed to Ephaseus and his cause.  

Frey left the door open behind him, though the tapestry tumbled down after and a few of the hounds lost their snouts in the crumbling threads.  “You see, it is truly not much to—” He broke off, in alarm. “Elsa!  You've gone white!  Are you ill?”

With effort, Etienne pried his fingers off his wrist, and his teeth apart.  The air of lingering evil was so palpable in the room, he marveled that Frey could stand there oblivious to it.  “It’s—it’s nothing,” he said.  “Only some dust in my lungs, it made me quite giddy.”  He pulled a kerchief from his artfully constructed bosom, and held it delicately over his mouth as he forced his mind to clear, to focus past the pain.  “I should be fine in just a moment.”  

“I should not have brought you here,” Frey said, scowling.  He had one hand on the small of Etienne's back, to catch his bride-to-be should she faint.  “Your bravery is commendable, but there's no need to go further—”

“I'm quite all right now,” Etienne said, tucking his kerchief away, and making a grand show of fussing with his cuffs.  “Now, we've come all this way to see this place, I should like to see it! Don't frown so, it was only a spot of stale air.”  Etienne put a finger to Frey's lips, teasing, and it was enough to startle a smile out of his betrothed.  

Etienne's head was clearing at last, even though the mark of the Order still buzzed like the stings of an entire beehive. The room was small, even cozy, though the air of neglect made it seem that much more empty and echoing.  He had always pictured the famous duel taking place in a bare chamber with a splintery wood table and two chairs, like in some hidden dungeon.  But this had been a delightful room years ago, one designed for leisure and pleasant pursuits.  The high, narrow windows had all been boarded over, but several of the planks had fallen in, letting in a watery light.  Dust lay thick and undisturbed on elegant tables and chairs; a settee sat decomposing in the corner, tapestry cushions lumpy grey in the colorless light.  The beams of the ceiling had once been painted in bright, lively patterns, now they only looked like faded graffiti.  A shadowy portrait peered down over the mantelpiece.  Logs still waited in a neat bundle by the hearth, where black ash was scattered around the gnawed rug in tiny trails.  

“Squirrels,” Frey said, following Etienne's eyes.  “They'll have the whole room nibbled to floorboards in another year or so.  I was going to have a grate put over the fireplace to keep them out, but I haven't found any workmen willing to do it.”

“Ah.” Etienne took a few steps forward, his skirts sweeping a clean spot through the dust.  “This is the man himself, I assume?”  He tilted his head far back to get a better look at the painting, but in the gloomy room—and under the dirt on the paint varnish—Lord Evern Reichwyn was a yellowed ghost, dark-eyed and fair-haired and elusive, sitting at ease with his hand on the head of a hunting dog at his knee.  He was handsome, even in shadows, and wore his shirt open.  Etienne could see an echo of Frey there, somewhere in his slightly-arrogant face, a whisper of familiarity beyond just coloring.  

“I wanted to put him in the great hall,” Frey said, with a little sigh.  “But one of the chambermaids swooned at the very idea of it, so I'll have to wait a bit longer to dine with my uncle, I suppose. I can't really blame the servants. They've all become superstitious. I only hope the painting's not ruined by the time I can have it brought out.”  

Etienne took a step backwards to see the painting better, but his skirts bumped into something behind him.  “Ah!  I didn't even see...  oh.”  The something was a chair lying on its side, on the floor.  Etienne knelt to right it again, and noticed the dust heaped up against the toppled legs.  The chair had fallen decades ago, knocked aside from the delicate little table behind it. The matching chair on the other side was scooted a short distance from the table, as though someone had pushed it back to rise, maybe to refill his glass.  But it was the table that drew Etienne's attention.  Almost invisible under a thin film of dust, there were cards scattered on its surface.  They had curled with age and one—the ace of crowns—lay on the floor.  One corner had been chewed by a rodent.  Frey was on the other side of the table, looking down at the three crowns and seven suns that lay there, just to the side of a grimy crystal glass.  A bottle was on the table, empty save for some flakes of brown dirt, and the other cup was overturned, cracked and empty.  Its contents had made a darker patch, long ago, on the table and the carpet below.  

Etienne stood up without moving the chair from its resting place.  “This is it, isn't it?”  

“It is,” Frey said, heavily.  “Sad, is it not?  He even laid out another hand of cards and a glass.  I suppose the loneliness of the place in winter must have driven him mad.”

“So you don't believe the Devil sat here, and answered Lord Evern's challenge for an opponent?”  Etienne's fingertips hovered over the stack of undealt cards in the middle of the table. They had slipped sideways into a heap.

“Don't mistake me, Elsa.  Every Sabbath I've a grateful hymn on my lips for Saint Justicia.  But this speaks to me more of madness than of a curse. Though I suppose that's devilry enough, is it not?”  

“So why the tales?”  Etienne said, moving to the other side of the table and trying not to flinch as his tattoo went to pinpricks again.  

“Tobias found Evern in this room the next day.  Just like this.  The wine for two, the cards laid out so, and Evern out of his wits with his hair gone snow white.  Of course it went round to the servants in a flash that Evern was yammering nonsense about the Devil and a curse and payment due, and if someone asked him directly what happened, he would only gesture to the cards.  He wandered off into the moors the next night.  He's never been seen since.  All the servants except for Tobias left Easting right after.”  

“How awful,” Etienne said sadly, as Elsa would have.  “So the curse—”

“Is a myth, of course.”  Frey looked up at him, intently.  “I know my cousins had hard luck at Chancelion, but they made their own misfortune. I've been here six years now, and it has been nothing but blessed for me.  Surely, if there was a curse, I would have been victim to it?  No.  I show you this to put your mind at ease, Elsa.  It is a sad room, but nothing more.  No split-hoof prints burned into the carpet, no eternal ring of fire, no ghosts showing up on the anniversary of the game to replay it again in transparent pantomime.  You need have no fear of it.”  

“I'm not afraid,” Etienne said, though that did not mean he agreed.  If there was no curse, then Etienne would not be standing there, tricked out in green velvet, with murder on his mind.  If Evern had not gambled away his soul in that room, then why were there no coins on the card table?  Even a madman playing himself would know a bet had to be laid as well as cards.  

“I'm glad to see you are as brave as you are intelligent,” Frey said, and smiled at his bride-to-be.  “And as lovely.”  

Etienne turned away, wishing he’d thought to bring a fan with him to hide behind.  “You do me to much honor, sir.  I am only too curious for my own good, as my Aunt would say. But I thank you for being so honest about the room.  Another man would not even have permitted his bride to see it, for fear of making her hysterical or overwrought or some nonsense.”  

Frey's hands tightened on the back of the Devil's chair.  “Honest?” he asked, as though to himself.  “Hardly.  In truth, Elsa, I only agreed to bring you here so that for a moment we could be most assuredly alone, and unobserved.”  

Etienne's pulse tripped with warning.  What was this, then?  Surely Frey was not about to make an attack on his lady's chastity?  “Oh?”  He forced out a laugh, but it rang as hollow as a specter's in the room.  “You choose a strange place for courtship, Frey.”  

Frey did not warm to the teasing; if anything, he looked more grim.  Etienne wondered for a split second if there was a beast under his veneer, one who would prey on an unsuspecting female, but dismissed the idea at once.  If anything, it was Frey who should be worried about his bride's intentions.  

“Elsa,” Frey said, and his handsome face twisted a moment with dismay.  “I have...  there is something I must tell you.  Tobias suggested I wait until the wedding night, but that is dishonorable, and no lady deserves to be so willingly misled.  I would give you the chance to refuse me.  I don't think a sensible lady would reject my suit on such grounds, but you deserve the chance to do so.”  

Etienne took a step away.  For an assassin it was practical: he wanted some distance, something solid behind him if need be, and room in which to fight.  But in his gown and wig and paints, it looked perfectly authentic as trepidation.  “What are you talking about?”  

Frey pushed himself off the chair, and raked back the hair that was always slipping out of its ribbon.  “Elsa. Darling.  You know I think this curse business is nonsense, correct?  I'm a man of faith, believe me, but I will not be dogged by imaginary devils.  Nor would I see you live here in fear, when my only wish is for you to bring warmth to this place...  and... and children.”  His face was flushed with crimson, and to Etienne it was the only color in the entire room.  “For the two of us to give Chancelion life again.  I never dreamed of achieving such things when I was a fatherless boy growing up in a tavern, playing cards to earn my mother's bread, without even a home to call my own.”  He looked at Etienne in something like desperation.  “But the moment I came here I have loved this house from cellar to spire.  Yes, even this wretched room.  It grieves me to see it so.  All I have ever wanted was for fortune to shine on this place once more.  And for two years, it has.  Never have I been more convinced that there was no curse than I was the moment you accepted me as your future husband.  It was the most wonderful day of my life, even more so than the day I was informed of my inheritance.”  

Etienne felt his heart sinking, oozing down into his belly like the drowning wick of a tallow candle.  Frey continued on, as though his confession was being dragged out of him with an inquisitor's red-hot hooks.  

“But there is a reason—a trifling coincidence and one I give no credence to—that you might think such a curse exists.  I speak not of Evern's madness, or the foolishness of my late relatives. It is something about me, specifically.”

Etienne wished he could loosen his corset.  It felt like he couldn't breathe, and his one consolation was that his anxiety must be convincing.  “...What is it?”  

Frey looked at him, a long, searching glance, and then he took off his velvet coat. He flung it on the back of the Devil's chair, and sent his waistcoat after it.

“My Lord!” Etienne began, forgetting to call him Frey.  

Frey did not answer, but his silk cravat unraveled to the floor like a serpent's ghost, and then, with only the barest moment of hesitation, he pulled his shirt off over his head.  

Even the dim light of the room was not kind.  Etienne's wrist burst into flames of pain, and he put a hand over his mouth, knowing his noise of horror would not be a woman's cry.  From throat to wrists, and shoulder to belly, all over the smooth muscles of Frey's torso, tiny red lines writhed across his skin. They twisted and bent and curled like live insects held above a candle flame, and Etienne's stomach clenched with revulsion at the sight of them.  He struggled to hang on to his ruse, and in no small amount, to his sanity as well. Elsa would only be shocked at the marks, surely.  She would be aghast, but would think them only lines, blemishes.  

But Etienne could read them.  He knew the horrors inscribed across Frey's skin, and understood the terrible doom they foretold as they burrowed down Frey's ribcage.  Death and chaos had been dragged over Frey's body like corpses behind a charnel wagon, leaving bloody paths behind.  The letters screamed with rage inside Etienne's mind, the rage of a demon from the depths as he wrenched at the splintering bars of his cage. Those splinters made those awful letters, scribed in the highest tongue of hell.  When Etienne could tear his eyes back to Frey's, he found them shining with grief.  

“You refuse, then,” he said softly.  “Lady. I do not blame you.”  

Etienne gulped past the taste of bile in his mouth.  “No!”  he gasped, but he looked away and could not bring himself to look back again.  “I am not so shallow, Frey.  But they—what are they?”  It was all Etienne could do to feign ignorance.  He was possessed with a wild urge to take a blade to Frey's skin, to peel away the marks as one would a rotten spot on an otherwise perfect and luscious peach.

“Birthmarks, I assume.”  Frey answered, subdued.  “I've had them my whole life, though when I was a child they were mere mottling.  My mother told me I looked as though I had been born flayed, they were so thick on my skin.  But as I have aged they have thinned, sharpened.  It's my hope that some day they will fade away entirely.  But save for my head, my hands, and my feet, no part of me is unmarked by them.  I believe them to be mere lines, like the strain of a vein broken beneath the skin, but—-tied to Chancelion as I am, they easily seem to take on a more evil meaning.” Frey had pulled his shirt back on, and though the demonic scribbling was still visible at his neck and wrists, Etienne felt a good deal saner without them shouting their horrific threats at him.

Etienne forced himself away from the side table, tearing his hands away from its marble top.  His fingers had left damp, sweaty patches in the dust.  “I am your betrothed, am I not?  I fail to see how that should change.  You do me little honor, Frey, to think such a small thing would sway me.”

The gratitude and adoration in Frey's eyes was heartbreaking, even to so small and shriveled a heart as Etienne's.  “When you asked to keep our engagement quiet, out of respect to your aunt's endeavors to find you a suitor on her own, I admit, I was grateful.  I knew then you could refuse me without bringing undue shame on yourself.”  

Etienne drew himself up straight.  “Shame? My shame, Frey, would be to refuse the heart of so worthy a suitor.”  

Frey took a step forward, arms outstretched, and Etienne knew he must do the same.  If he was to continue his role, then he would have to submit to being kissed, and kissed he was.  Earnestly, and as chaste as a blushing milkmaid's dream.  Etienne’s thoughts, however, were elsewhere.  Frey had the marks, and only that confirmation made Etienne realize how desperately he had hoped otherwise.  But it was so.  Frey was the Heir, his doom was sealed by Ephaseus' decree, and Etienne was sorry. More sorry than he'd ever been for any blackguard nobleman seeking black powers, or for heartless beauties who cursed the lovers who spurned them.  Those he had snuffed without a thought, serene in his duty.  But once, just this once, Etienne had been beginning to hope Ephaseus was mistaken.  

He should have known better.  Ephaseus was never mistaken.  

Etienne's duty was clear.  Frey must die, and quickly, before the fate inscribed on his flesh could be allowed to manifest.  And really, what better place to do that than in the hidden chamber?  Frey was the only one with a key to the room, in a distant and unused part of the house.  No one had seen them pass this way.  Etienne could dispose of Frey here, lock the room, and then Elsa could protest that she had not seen her beloved all day.  Who would look for him here?  In the chaos it would be easy enough for Elsa to take her leave of Chancelion, for good. With any luck, by the time Frey's body was found, he wouldn't be in a fit state to show how he had met his untimely end.  He would be another victim of Chancelion's curse, and would follow Evern into legend.

Etienne leaned harder into Frey's kiss, trying not to think about the state that warm mouth would be in, in a few days’ time.  He'd sent enough men to the worms, there was no reason to go getting squeamish about it now.  He was doing Frey a mercy, though the man didn't know it.  The only question was how best to go about it.  Poor bastard, Etienne thought.  Probably it was best to be quick and painless, so he wouldn't know what had happened.  He could go straight to Saint Justicia's arms with his true love's kiss still on his lips, dreaming of all the sons that would not be born.  

Etienne put a hand back to the table, as though to steady himself.  The other he tangled up in Frey's hair.  To Frey, it must have seemed quite an ardent gesture. Etienne, however, was only looking for the best place to clonk him.  Evern's empty wine bottle on the table was dusty and cold against Etienne's other hand, and he grasped it.  Sometimes the best weapons were already provided.  One blow to the head, and then if Frey was still breathing, the gentle pressure of his lady's hand over his mouth and nose would end that.  It was perfect, really.  As sweet a setup as Etienne had ever dreamed of.  Etienne felt his belly tighten, and he brought the bottle up in an arc that would end at the back of Frey's skull.  

Death was an eventuality for everyone, Etienne thought.  It was only his job to speed things along.  

It was at that moment, just when the murder was shaping up so splendidly, that it happened.  Actually, it was several things, happening all at once.  The first of them was only a tickle, a little tug on the strap of Etienne's ladylike shoe.  It was not worth note until it was followed, alarmingly, by the unmistakable sensation of something large and alive wriggling under lace-edged linen drawers and crawling up Etienne's leg.

It was instinct; it was involuntary.  Etienne shrieked and the bottle flew out of his hand before it was even a third of the way through its course.  It crashed into the fireplace and exploded; the overturned table scattered cards up into the air.  Frey started back with an oath on his lips, still quite alive, and Etienne was forced into a frantic kicking jig, at last flinging a bewildered and very much offended squirrel out of his undergarments.  It shot beneath the settee and up the chimney, leaving Etienne swearing at it in words that Lady Elsa should by no means have even known, much less dreamed of using.  

Etienne caught himself halfway through a tirade involving fornication, the nine fires of hell, and leeks, and whirled to face Frey.  Surely, what with that and murder and misfortune and squirrels for the love of reason, Etienne's mission and his ruse were both lost.  

But Frey, honest, guileless Frey, was only hanging off the Devil's chair, laughing until he couldn't breathe.  For a moment Etienne hoped he might laugh himself into the grave and spare Etienne the trouble, but there was no such luck.  

Actually, there was plenty of luck, and all the wrong sorts.  

It was not a pleasant evening for Etienne.  Not only did Frey tell the story of the squirrel to Tobias as he served the couple dinner, but Frey was only more enamored of his bride for their adventure, and for her presumed acceptance of him.  He spent the meal gazing at Etienne in pure, unashamed adoration, and that evening kissed him again before saying good night: a frustrating experience for Etienne as there was no good opportunity for death in it.  At nine thirty, he was left in his garish bedchamber with no company but his own frustration and that hideous cherub.

And then, of course, to top it all off, Etienne had to sneak out in the middle of the night and put the D'Grassa volume back in the library.  

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5483 Chapter: 41/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

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Chapter 41

The first time he sat at the desk he thought to himself that it was much too grand. Hashirama had made it, of course, just as Hashirama had used his mokuton to create another top floor of the administration tower, one very large room to sit atop all the rest, the official command center of everything visible from the massive windows lining one entire wall. And to fit such a large room there needed to be a large desk. Tobirama swiveled in his new chair and peeked over one shoulder. Of all the things he hated about this office, the fact that his back now faced the windows probably bothered him the most. Just another thing to get used to. 

Kagami’s face popping out from underneath the desk brought his attention back along with a smile. If anyone was having fun in his new real estate it was the little scamp he called a student. 

“No one could ever find me down here!” the boy declared. “It’s like a whole fort! Or a cave!” 

“Yes, it is a bit big, isn’t it?” 

“It’s awesome!” 

Lifting his face to gaze around the room, Tobirama hummed. “Not the word I would have chosen but I appreciate your enthusiasm all the same.” 

Everything in the room was brand new, an honor he had only been blessed with once in his life when he was shown to his matrimonial home for the first time. Even the chairs across the desk for visitors were new and the couch on the other side of the room which he assumed was Hashirama's unsubtle way of saying they all knew he was going to overwork himself at some point. He might as well have a place to crash when he did. It was flattering to be gifted so many things no matter the intentions behind them and yet as he took it all in again Tobirama couldn’t help but miss the familiarity of his old office, the desk that always felt too small and yet had everything he needed available within arm’s reach, the chair that squeaked if he turned too fast but sat at just the right elevation to keep his knees from aching. 

Whoever chose this new chair had obviously gone for size over comfort; it was probably big enough to swallow even Hashirama's massive frame. 

“Kaasan says you’re really important now,” his protégé announced, popping up from under the desk again. “More important than anyone else in the village – except for me. She says I’ll always be the most important.” Kagami puffed out his chest and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile a little wider for him. 

“She is right about that.” 

“What’s a Hokage? She says you’re the very first Hokage but I’ve never heard that word before and the old lady next door came over before I could ask.” 

Fingers drumming against the dark wood before him, Tobirama considered how to explain the concept. “It means that the people of Konoha have chosen me as their leader. Almost the same way that the Daimyo is the ultimate authority of Hi no Kuni except I’m only in charge of one village, thank the spirits.”

Just the thought of having to deal with any more idiocy than he was already going to now made him shudder. 

“Oooh. So you’re really super important!” 

“Against my own will, I assure you,” Tobirama drawled. 

“You have to be extra careful then, right? Are you going to have guards now like the Daimyo does? My Obasan says the Daimyo never goes anywhere without at least three of his guards to protect him in case someone tries to come and hurt him. Maybe you should do that!” Kagami’s fingers curled over the arm of his chair, his eyes so wide and earnest one might never guess his training had progressed so well he could almost be considered as deadly as a fully grown adult. 

With a shake of his head, Tobirama huffed. “I don’t think I would enjoy that very much.”

“Now, now,” Madara's voice pitched in as the door clicked open. “The kid’s got a good idea building there. We’ve already lost two leaders and I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping that you survive longer than a single year in office. Maybe we should talk to Izuna about working something out with his ANBU.” 

“Is that truly necessary?” Pleasant as it was to see his husband, he wasn’t thrilled to have the man add his two cents to this ridiculousness. 

Madara hefted the box between his hands a little higher but not too high to cover the disgustingly contemplative look on his face. What a terrible look. Tobirama already knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever plans came out of that expression. Getting tricked in to this job was bad enough, did they really need to add more restrictions and annoyances on top of it all? 

“Sensei! Hey sensei!” Kagami tugged on his sleeve to get his attention again. “Can I be one of your guards?”

“You?” 

“Uh-huh! I want to protect sensei!” 

“I see.” Fighting the urge to melt, hoping his face betrayed nothing of his gooey inner feelings, Tobirama gave his student a pat on the arm. “When you’re a little older we can talk about it. You’re still a bit young for ANBU or guard squads just yet but I’m sure you’ll make a fine guard when you get there.” He couldn’t deny that the thought of his own protégé growing up to stand as his protector was adorably heart-warming. 

Madara grunted as he set his box down in one corner of the room, lifting the lid to check on the contents inside. From a distance it looked as though it were full of scrolls and that meant more paperwork. Wonderful. Tobirama was starting to wonder if he might drown under it all before anyone thought to remember the archives built in to the basement floors right underneath their feet. He took at least a small amount of consolation from watching Madara's arms flex, somehow bullied in to doing most of the heavy lifting as they tried to get everything set up in this new office. 

“How are you settling in?” his husband asked, closing the box and straightening up. 

“Already planning my escape routes, if you must know,” Tobirama admitted. To his credit he was only half serious. Right from the moment he stepped in to the room he’d been planning escape routes but no matter how much he griped he knew that he would see this duty through. 

The people had spoken. Just because he thought they had all taken collective leave of their senses by choosing him didn’t mean he was going to spit in their faces for making such a poor decision. 

“Oh, I don’t know, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine when I saw you earlier. Bossing the whole council of elders around like that? I wish I’d realized that was a perk of the job, I might have fought you for it!” Madara chuckled to himself while Tobirama grumbled darkly under his breath. If they’d had to fight for the position it would have been a short battle; he would have forfeited immediately. 

“Did any of them speak to you about it?” He asked, curious to know if they were already pushing back against his authority. Thankfully Madara shook his head. 

“I don’t think they were upset, mostly just shocked.” He shrugged. “They’re all clan heads and elders and heirs. Most of them have all but forgotten what it means to answer to an actual higher authority.” 

Kagami tilted his head. “Kaasan says I still have to listen to you, does that mean you’re a higher authority too Madara-sama?”

“Higher than you, brat!” 

“Behave, children,” Tobirama drawled. 

“Are you calling me a child!?” 

“You’re acting like one.” 

The little giggle at his side only made it all the funnier to watch Madara harrumph, moodily crossing his arms in a pretense of ignoring them both. 

It wasn’t all that much longer before Kagami grew bored, however, and Tobirama was more than happy to reach out with his senses and point the boy to wherever his mother had wandered off to. After cheerful waves, drawn out goodbyes, and a half dozen promises that he would be back in a little while the boy tottered off to leave his teacher and clan head alone on the top floor. Without him the room felt as though it had just a little less energy, like he’d taken it with him when he left. The feeling made Tobirama sigh. He wasn’t supposed to be middle aged for at least another decade. 

His cousin had always teased him that he’d been born an old man. 

“Are you disappearing in to your head already?” Madara broke in to his thoughts. 

“Perhaps a little.”

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

Struggling to find the words, Tobirama drummed his fingers against the wood again. “Just…realizing that perhaps this job will have a few benefits that I might not have considered until now. Kagami may have escaped the necessity of attending the new academy but he’s hardly the only young impressionable mind out there. I was thinking that it might be nice having the chance to guide the next generation.” 

“You’re gonna be a bit busy for taking on any more students, I think.”

“I meant leading by example but thank you for the reminder that my free time has been effectively dismissed for the foreseeable future.” He glared but Madara only chuckled and trundled across the floor towards him. 

Tobirama wondered briefly if he was aware that he walked exactly like his own sensei, a habit most likely built entirely without conscious decision. Then he found himself distracted as the man slipped in to his lap and that was much more interesting to think about than walking patterns or anything else really. 

“Out of all of us I think you’re the best choice to guide the people,” Madara told him. 

“Because I’m the smartest?” 

“Hey! I’m smart! I don’t just mean because of your overly big brain. I mean because you have all the qualities that we need. Only instead of having those qualities spread out they’re all together in one person.” 

Confused, Tobirama frowned in to the middle distance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know how Hashirama makes a good leader because he really listens to people? And I’m a good leader because I think ahead and try to consider how things will affect more than just myself. Touka’s a good leader because she knows who to delegate to and trusts her captains. But the people of Konoha chose your butt for that seat because they know that you have all of those things – and more. Not only that but anyone who’s worked with you before knows that you’re not going to waste time trying to prove anything; you’ve already proven what you can do.” 

For almost a minute breathing deeply was all Tobirama could do, unsure how to function under the weight of so much blind trust. Except it wasn’t blind, he supposed, if so many people seemed to think that he had already shown these qualities. 

“I’m not even twenty yet,” he pointed out very quietly. “Not even twenty and I stand authoritatively above the people who have decades more experience than I do.”

“They’ve also had decades of getting set in their ways,” Madara pointed out. He was right, of course. The council of elders were rather infamous for being a bunch of stubborn bastards. 

“Did they vote? They would have been allowed to unless they put their name on the ballot but I can’t even begin to guess who they might have thrown their support behind.” Tobirama knew as well as anyone else how many different opinions there could be in just one room when the whole council gathered. Having less than no control over the outcome, he hadn’t even bothered to check and see how many names were on the final list to be voted on or how the numbers had tallied. 

“You’re not going to like this. But I think most of them voted you in. Which means that most of them will have no trouble at all following wherever you lead them.”

He wrinkled his nose. Madara was right, he didn’t like that. If there had been dissent in the ranks he might have held on to the faintest hope of impeachment but alas. Apparently he really was stuck here.

“If you could go back in time,” Tobirama murmured, “back to the night before our marriage or even the day we were betrothed, would you? If you had the chance would you tell yourself what was to come?” He could feel the other man’s eyes on him but didn’t bother to meet them, busy as he was asking himself the same question. It was something that had been on his mind lately but no matter how much he turned it over in his mind he never seemed to land on one answer. His husband, evidently, was much more decisive than him. 

“No,” Madara answered after a few heartbeats. 

Tobirama finally looked over at him again. “Just like that? No?” 

“I’m proud of the journey we went through together. If I have known that everything was going to turn out alright then maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard to get to know who you really are. And then maybe I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. What we went through was a long process but it was…necessary, I think.”

With a hum he pulled Madara in for a kiss. “Look at you being all wise. I think I’ll make you my chief advisor.”

Before his partner could scowl and grumble that he’d already accepted the role of chief advisor there came a knock at the door and both of them scrambled to separate themselves. His first day in office was not the time to be starting rumors of defiling the place or anything so scandalous. Only when it opened a moment later to admit Hashirama's smiling face did he remember that he could have just stretched his senses again and he would have known whether or not they needed to panic. 

“Hello!” His brother called out in greeting, wiggling the fingers of his free hand. With the other he carried something large made of clean red and white cotton. 

“Dare I ask what you have there?” Tobirama grumbled. 

“You’ll like this! I thought you should have a badge of status or something so I made you a special Hokage’s hat!” 

Something dark like horror filled him as Hashirama pressed the hat in to his hands to be inspected from all angles. It was massive and well-crafted with a veil of white hanging down to protect the back of his neck from sight. When he looked back up his brother was beaming at him with pride, innocent and entirely empty of any ill intentions. 

“Thanks,” Tobirama told him. “I hate it.” Hashirama wilted like a flower. 

“But I designed it myself!” 

“Ah, that must be why it’s so hideous.” 

“So mean!” 

Madara snatched the thing out of his hands and flipped it around. “I mean, at least he used the right kanji for fire. Carrying around a spelling mistake over your forehead wouldn’t be a great impression to make on any newcomers.” 

“I thought it was really nice,” Hashirama sniffed. 

“You wouldn’t know style if it ran up and bit your wife on the bottom.” Tobirama sighed, eyeing the new accessory in mourning. His words were unkind and yet he just knew he was going to be guilted in to wearing it at some point. For all his bluster he was soft like that for the ones he loved.

After sticking out his tongue Hashirama snatched the hat back for himself and began picking off invisible bits of lint. “You’ve really grown up since we came here, you know? Even if you say mean things I know what you really feel. So I wanted to get you something that would remind you whenever you need it how proud I am of everything you’ve become.” 

He peeked up with those big brown eyes and for a moment Tobirama could only damn his own heart for clenching inside his chest. Those words meant so much more to him than he would ever be able to admit. 

The two of them were all they had left, really. He was closer to Touka, even Hashirama knew that, but she would never mean quite the same thing to him as his immediate family did. She would never be the brothers that crawled in to bed with him when the nightmares woke them, the quiet voices that whispered their secrets when father wasn’t around. There was something irreplaceable in Hashirama as the last of his siblings that not even Touka could ever be. 

Of course, in a way, Hashirama had been the last of his family long before Butsuma passed away. Watching his brother mourn a man who treated them as little better than soldiers had been a strangely painful thing. Like watching him grieve for something that had never been, a dream that fades at waking yet leaves behind some deep impossible yearning. He couldn’t help but want to take the man in a gentle embrace and explain to him that it was all so much wasted emotion but he knew better than that, knew that Hashirama needed to expel these feelings to move on, and so he’d been doing his best to simply stay away from the subject.

“I appreciate the gift,” he murmured eventually, trusting that his brother would understand what he was really trying to say. Hashirama smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. 

“You deserve the whole world, do you know that?”

“Do try to praise me whilst keeping your hands to yourself,” Tobirama grumbled. 

Madara snickered so he turned to glare at his husband too, though the man didn’t seem all that terrified by his ire. 

Surprisingly Hashirama didn’t stay all that long. Despite his usual habit of dragging every conversation out three times longer than it needed to be he ducked out fairly quickly once he was sure his gift wouldn’t be shredded as soon as he was out of sight. Either he had developed a new enthusiasm for paperwork overnight or he was having a bit too much fun deciding how to decorate his own new space. In an effort to prevent either man from sitting in the echoes of unwanted memories Madara and Hashirama had each moved in to the now empty offices of each others’ predecessors. Evidently his brother had been enjoying the chance to fill once blank walls with tacky décor.

“A quick visit, that,” Madara noted as well once they were alone again.

“Indeed. And I do believe I’d like to make my own visit quick. All I wanted was to come familiarize myself with the new office, I didn’t mean to make a full day of it. There will be plenty of days ahead for me to be trapped in here.” He sighed just thinking about it

When they left Tobirama was careful to leave that horrendous hat behind, tucking it off in a random corner and hoping that no one else would notice it before he had time to think of a better hiding spot. Having his ears frozen in a biting wind was preferable to wearing that monstrosity. He entertained himself instead with the smug look on his husband’s face as they made their way home. In almost the same way Hashirama's regard had done, Madara's overwhelming pride to walk at his side touched him in ways he refused to speak out loud, warming him from the inside out to see how his partner puffed up like a happy peacock even though the citizens passing them by weren’t paying their respects to him. 

He deflated only slightly about halfway home when his steps faltered with the expression of someone who just thought of something they were supposed to remember several hours ago. 

“Didn’t Kagami say he was coming back at some point?” he asked. Tobirama waved him off with a quiet smile. 

“We both know he’s already forgotten. I can feel him dashing around the marketplace with his friends; he’s not going to be thinking of his boring sensei for quite some time.”

“You’re not boring,” Madara said. “Kagami doesn’t think so either. He wants to grow up to be just like you.”

“Poor taste,” Tobirama noted. 

His husband thwacked him on the arm, never one to appreciate a bit of good self-deprecation, and then his expression turned hesitant. A bit thoughtful. “If he’s distracted it usually takes him a while to remember what he was supposed to be doing. So you’re saying I have you all to myself for now?”

“It seems that way, yes.”

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to, ah, take advantage of that?” 

Heat shot through his body, very different from the subtle warmth he’d been floating in before. This was a fire, a burn, a tightness in his belly that made him quicken his steps in such a way that turned Madara's ears pink with a mixture of shame and pleasure. He’d brought it on himself really. If he was going to offer such things Tobirama was not the sort of man who would turn him down. 

Conversation was a bit stilted from then on as they continued. Now that they had a reason to hurry it felt as though half the population wanted to stop and offer Tobirama their congratulations and as touched as he was to see so many people supporting him all he really wanted was for the lot of them to go away so he could bend his husband over the nearest piece of furniture. Madara kept his mouth shut for the most part, nodding along when anyone asked him if he wasn’t just the proudest he could possibly be, clammed up tight as though he hadn’t just been strutting about like a peacock five minutes before. 

If nothing else the amusement of watching his desperation mount higher and higher was almost worth feeling the same. 

Tobirama could feel that his gait had gotten a little stiff by the time they both pushed inside their home. When Madara pressed him back against the wall of the genkan he struggled to return the affections while also kicking off one of his boots, uncaring for the snow and slush that he must be splashing everywhere. Not even the feeling of cold water soaking in to his socks was enough to deter him from pulling the other man closer by the hips and grinding their bodies together. 

Fighting their way out of the various boots and coats and scarves protecting them from the weather outside took much longer than Tobirama would have liked, long enough that when they were free at last to stumble their way inside the rest of the house he simply didn’t have the patience to move any farther than the couch. Out of all the times he had jokingly threatened to bend this man over their various pieces of furniture he’d only ever been about half-serious a few times. Having had no experience before their relationship, Madara seemed to consider intimacy anywhere but their actual bed to be filthy in the same way he thought of spanking as incredibly kinky. 

He didn’t seem to have any complaints about filth or shame at the moment as he was pushed up against the back of their couch. Lewd sounds of appreciation spilled from his lips as his fingers pulled at whatever pieces of cloth they had the coordination to latch on to. 

“Should have brought the damn hat,” he mumbled in the non-existent space between them. 

“You cannot tell me you found it attractive?” Tobirama meant for his words to come out as a demand. Instead they were breathless, absent, whispers soaking in to pale skin as he moved down his husband’s neck. 

“Not really- nnh, feels good. S’just, dunno, it’s kind of hot that I’m…sleeping with the Hokage?” 

Tobirama pulled away far enough to stare in to his partner’s eyes, drinking in the way Madara shivered under his gaze. If the look on his face was even half as hungry as the heat in his belly then he couldn’t blame the man.

“Oh?” he purred. “Does my beloved husband have an authority kink?” 

“S-shut up.” Madara turned his head away but his protests had very little impact when followed with a deep moan, body melting under the sensation of teeth scraping along the lines of his neck. 

Nipping his way up just far enough to nibble on a defenseless earlobe, Tobirama allowed himself a vicious smirk. Finally a preference to work with. This alone was more than worth the trouble of being forced in to the limelight. With a sharp nip that drew a gasp he whispered in a voice that rasped with all the want inside him on naked display. 

“Don’t tell me what to do; you’re not in charge right now, anata.” When Madara shivered under him Tobirama felt bold enough to add, “Turn around.” 

“Need to reach over here anyway,” his husband mumbled as though to justify following the directions they both knew he wanted to anyway. As soon as he had spun to face the couch back he was stretching one arm out and leaning over to wriggle his fingers, trying desperately to reach the little tub of lotion he’d taken to leaving out for the evenings when dry fingers began to crack and bleed in to whatever book he was reading. 

“How resourceful of you,” Tobirama praised him. 

Although he was kind enough not to comment on the blush that followed his words he was slave enough to his own hormones to enjoy it, reveling in the knowledge that it was him and only him who could put such heat on that face. Married men they might be but that did nothing to stop many eyes in the village from admiring a shapely form and Tobirama knew exactly how many others wished they could be in his position right at this moment.

Which only made it all the more delicious listening to his own name fill the room in a desperate chant as he spread the man open and pressed inside, curling over Madara's body with some half-formed animal drive to keep him safe. His teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure, skin prickling where the chill of the room warred with the heat of their joining, Tobirama rocked his hips in an impatient rhythm. The world around them was lost to his consciousness as he took and took and gave back everything he had. Every gasp and cry that fell from his husband’s lips was a sweet chorus calling for more, a call he was all too happy to answer. 

Curled so tightly as he already was, it took little more than a tilt of his head to whisper against the shell of Madara's ear, hips snapping with every rock forward. 

“I love you,” he breathed. Madara whined, legs stiffening as he too drew close to the edge. “I want only you like this; I want no one else to ever see you in these moments. Come for me, anata.”

“Gods.” His husband gave up holding his own weight and folded to allow the couch to bear their movements. Tobirama tightened his fingers on the hips in his grasp and bit an ear already hot and fever red. 

“Do as I say, hm? Come for your Hokage.” 

Later he might ruminate over the possibility that Madara's arousal had been triggered by the idea that no one else had ever stood above him in authority like this before, a thrilling new dynamic he hadn’t encountered until he was outranked by his own husband. But that was later. In this moment Tobirama choked on his own breath as Madara clamped down around him and cried out in a filthy rasp that tumbled both of them in to ecstasy. 

In the brief seconds when the world turned white and fuzzy Tobirama knew only the clutch of the passage stealing his sanity and the husky mantra of his own name, the sensation of Madara's body quaking beneath his own. Fading back in to reality came with the realization that he was also mumbling over and over, sweet nothings and praises, every secret emotion inside his heart slipping between his lips as though the very world depended on him to fill the air with such nonsense. It took effort but he managed to clench his teeth and silence himself in the damp skin of his partner’s neck. 

“Never ever speak of this,” Madara's voice grumbled quietly. 

“Of the incredible sex we just had?” Tobirama asked without moving. “I’m hardly the type to brag about my exploits, you know.” 

“That’s not what I meant! I just- you can’t- no making fun of me for this!” 

With one eyebrow already lifting Tobirama cracked his eyes open. “Nor am I the type to mock you for your preferences. I am, however, going to shamelessly exploit them. If you thought I wasn’t going to take advantage of that little slip then I regret to say you may have misjudged me, anata.” 

Madara's answering grunt sounded more like eager capitulation than a protest. 

Cleaning up after themselves was slightly more awkward in the living room with no master bathroom a mere handful of steps away but eventually Tobirama managed to sort them both out enough that they could collapse down on to the sofa together where he found himself trapped in one corner as Madara leaned back against him with loose limbs and heavily lidded eyes. 

“Falling asleep on me?”

“No. I’m just resting my eyes for a bit.” 

“Ah, I see.” Tobirama smiled, running his fingers through the mane of hair between them. “Strangely enough I think you may have been right about all this.” 

“Well that’s not something I hear very often. Are you feeling alright? You don’t normally admit when I’m right.” 

Smacking him gently on the arm did nothing but elicit a snicker but Tobirama didn’t have the energy to do anything other than roll his eyes. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much. All I meant was that perhaps this detestably unwanted duty may not be as terribly bad as it seems. With you supporting me I think everything will turn out alright.” 

“I will always support you,” Madara told him quietly. 

Feeling his heart clench inside his chest, Tobirama bent his neck to press a kiss against the back of his partner’s head. 

“I know. And I will always be lucky to have you.” 

“Damn straight you’re lucky to have me. I am quite the catch.” Madara harrumphed and rolled his head as though trying and failing to gather the energy for a flip of his impressive hair. 

Tobirama said nothing but in his silence there was an agreement. He might not say it aloud very often but he did recognize precisely how blessed he was. Not only to have a man like Madara in his life but to have won his honest affection, to earn his place in a heart so closely guarded. Surely there could be no higher honor. 

“We can bring the hat next time though, right?” 

“If you like.” Swallowing his laughter, Tobirama decided then that he knew the answer to his earlier question. And oddly enough his husband appeared to be right about this as well. Given the chance to go back in time, to speak to himself eight months ago and forewarn of everything that would happen in the future, he would choose to do it all again exactly as they had. Madara's love meant so much more to him now that he knew how deeply the man had searched his own soul to allow himself such emotions. To be handed a prize meant so much less than to win it for himself. 

“Are we having a nap now?” Madara asked. His voice didn’t sound particularly sleepy; if anything he seemed to be looking for an excuse to just not get up for a while. 

“Mn, if you like,” Tobirama said again. 

Listening to his husband grumble at him for being cheeky, he let his eyes fall shut and his head tilt back, basking in the scent of his most beloved person and the security of knowing that everything would turn out alright in the end. What end that might be he could not say but with Madara there at his side he found that what mattered the most was not the destination, it was the journey. 

[mykingofasgardnew]

Apartments- Loki mini series

A/N: Hey guys summer break is here for me so ima start doing requests :-) and sorry @wolfgar15 that it’s a picture of your request. It decided to delete on me after I took a screenshot 😅

Summary: Thor and Loki move into a new apartment that’s close to a university. And one student catches Loki’s eye.

Warnings: fluff, modern au, some smut,

>>[means POV change]

————

You carry your heavy bags of groceries and homework up the stairs to noice that your neighbors aren’t two old ladies but two young men. Puzzled you quickly walk into your two bedroom apartment to be greeted by your two favorite people. Your bull dog Hunter and your brown tubby tabby cat Freckle.

“Hello babies!.” You immediately say as they follow you to your kitchen to set groceries down. Jumping for attention.” Finial when you know they won’t knock all your stuff down you bend down and give them the attention they deserve. You make sure Freckle has her food and go to grab Hunters leach being cooped up in the apartment all day is boring for the only bull dog you know that has enough energy to do everything in one day. You go to walk out and notice that the two boys replacing your nice neighborhoods are total opposites. One is tall and buff like a McDonald’s fry but with muscles. He notices you staring and smiles and waves. You wave back embarrassed and quickly walking down the five stories of steps. Not getting a good look at the other one just knowing he had black hair and was leaner.

>>(Loki POV)

“Who are you waving at brother?” Loki says after dropping another box in their living room.

“I don’t know. I think she’s our neighbor. She was looking at us. Guess she knew who was here before. She seemed confused..” Loki looks around to see that there’s not a girl.

“Thor are you-“

“She just walked down the stairs because I waved.” Looking confused.

“Maybe she’s shy.” Loki says shrugging not giving the girl much thought. Pushing past Thor to get out of the the apartment. Thor follows him down the stairs to get more boxes.

“Maybe but she was kinda cute; her dog was definitely cute.” Thor says two boxes in both arms at a time. Loki rolls his eyes. His brother thinks everything that has eyes is cute.

“Uh huh.” Loki retorts and walks out to grab more boxes.

>>>(YourPOV)

You take off Hunters leach and let him run upstairs getting the last of his energy out. And walk over to your mail box. Grab your mail and start you walk up the stairs. When you get up stairs you here someone talking out loud saying good boy.

You turn the corner to see the McDonald’s fry petting Hunter. Hunter enjoying the attention. The fry looks up. He has blue eyes.

“Oh hey. I’m Thor. Your dogs cute.” He says standing up putting his hand out to shake yours. You shake his hand and smile, trying to be polite and not think about all the homework you have to do. And the cookies you miss from Jenny on of the older ladies that was your neighbor.

“I’m y/n. Nice to meet you. I guess my old neighbors moved out over spring break.” You say scratching your neck. “Welcome to the neighborhood though. This is a college neighborhood so expect loud music every other day past ten. And yelling at all hours.” You say smiling hereing some loud noises below you. Hunter after greating you goes back to Thor for more attention from the new person.

“Oh that explains so many young people. Me and my brother aren’t in college we work at that big building 15 minutes from here. He’s in the apartment I’ll go get him since we’ll be sharing walls. Better meet him too.” He says and yells into the door.

“Loki come meet y/n! She’s our new neighborhood and really nice!” He gives you a smile and thumbs up. You laugh a little. Then a tall raven haired man comes out looking utterly annoyed. He has blue eyes like his brother his more frosty a contrast to his dark features. His face is really strong. His whole stance is really strong like his brother. They might be ying and yang to each other but definitely are brothers.

“Must you yell brother?” He says given glares to both Thor and Hunter. Unhappy that he’s glaring at Hunter you call for him and grab his leach. Finally the blue eyed man says hello.

“Hi I’m Loki. But you probably already know that with my brothers loud large mouth yelling it.” He smiles and shakes your hand. Playful pushing Thor. You smile back glad he has some humor.

“It’s fine. Everyone yells here it’s a college neighborhood so.” You shrug your shoulders. Loki has an intense gaze. He’s the total opposite of his brother. But they share a friendly aura. Thor comes puts his arm around his brother in response to the shove.

“So y/n what’s your major?” Thor asks.

“Um I major in Business and Real estate.”

“Oh that’s cool. Gonna be a boss lady selling houses.” He says flashing a large smile. Loki looking annoyed but continuing to stare into your soul interested in what you say.

“Ha ha yeah pretty much. But I have a lot of homework and have to feed Hunter here.” You say looking at your dog who’s giving his best doggy smile to all three of you. “I’d gladly have y’all over some time tho.” You smile and wave walking to your apartment just a couple feet away.

“Yeah! Have a good night y/n.” Thor says and Loki gives a wave and says goodnight walking into the apartment first. Once inside your apartment and safe behind a locked door you sigh looking down at your cat. Hunter going off to play with a toy.

“They’re nice I guess Freckle. The one though he was cute. But doesn’t seem to like me. He just stared at me.” You say bending down picking her up and moving to your desk to start homework. You put her down in her bed which she lays down immediately.

Your apartment was pretty spacious. But you got blessed because your the only cousin and child on your moms side. So all your family is helping you go through college.

A/N: thank you @wolfgar15 for giving me this request and inspiring me to write <3 I hope you like this. It’s probably just a mini series 10-12 chapters tops.

[polygamyff]

35. Part 4

Another day, another meeting I was hoping Reign didn’t wake up when I woke up at six and she didn’t. I just don’t feel up to dealing with her hyper self when I am feeling like this. I just want to get better, this pain will pass on my leg “your water sir” the waiter placed the glass down “thank you” I always do love my breakfast here in the morning, sets my day just right. Grabbing the pain killers from the side “morning” hearing Ally said “morning” placing the tablets in my mouth “we don’t have Reign today, she was fun at the meetings. The judgemental stares at the people” I smiled before I drank my water, Ally sat across from me “good to know you actually woke up and will be on time, I always know you will be on time when you’re sat here having breakfast at eight” placing the water down “let the waiter know if you want anything but I couldn’t really sleep, she didn’t wake up so I didn’t want to drag her around with me, it’s a little boring for her too. Also I need to concentrate on Wade, he is important, he holds everything I need you see. Thanks for staying behind and filling the paperwork out, I guess I need to make a trip to Tokyo?” I have been trying to stay away from it “you know it, you have no choice in that. I will schedule it so it don’t clash with your dad and the business turn over. Wade called me and he was really stressing, this meeting is important, this email is non-valid, I won’t accept it. I goes this is on Maurice not me but he will be here at nine, appointment at twelve with the estate. Also, I think Naomi will be there, seeing as you used her father for this” I grinned “am I shocked?” I am really not shocked “I am not in the mood, as you can see. I am in sweatpants and a top. But shall we go to the office, get things rolling. You don’t want food” Ally nodded her head, getting up from the chair “ah” I limped about to fall back on my chair but I gathered myself “woah, you good?” I limped a little straightening myself up “I am ok” putting my hand up “the painkillers will kick in, we good” I laughed “you need to relax yourself, stop hiding it. Let me get your laptop for you” she grabbed the bag, I am going to be limping myself all the way down “I need to request a walking stick don’t I?” I laughed “well I can make it happen? Call it pimp stick, shocked Robyn allowed you to work, you in pain I can get the doctor” shaking my head “I want Robyn to have a good time here, it’s fine” Ally let out an oh “if you say boss but if you get worse, I am calling!” Ally threatened me but I will be fine.

“So the next thing we need to speak on is your Will, now Maurice. I can’t accept this. This is fine, I mean you want Reign to get the business once you get the business on your name but Reign or Robyn can’t be the only ones, the reason why. Listen to me, if you was all to be at the same place and not be with us at the same time, then what? You know this business will go straight to the next brother, and I mean Malik, is that what you want?” shaking my head “so I can’t accept it, I need names. The next person after that” he is wanting me to make these kind of decisions right now “erm, if that does happen, Robyn, me and Reign not here then it’s Nalah, if not Nalah then Shawn” Wade froze staring at me “what?” he said, I am being dead ass “I don’t want Malik to have anything, neither my family. I don’t care for them, they can all die. If not Shawn then” I paused “Joy, my mother. If not that then Leon, Robyn’ friend” Wade sat back in his seat “right, wait. So we got Nalah after that, then Shawn. That is all I need, but Shawn? You want him to have the company and take over?” nodding my head “he will do a better job then any of them, he is my brother. I want you to make it known Malik gets nothing” placing my cigarette between my lips “ok, I will make sure that is known. Maurice with you having this business we need to keep up to date with the Will, things will become a mess if you was to pass” lighting my cigarette “I think you will get the divorce, I don’t think Noami has a case at all. I have been pestering them for updates, nothing” blowing the smoke out from my lips “good, it makes me think. Would it better if I was to marry Robyn quick, I just be thinking. I am ill, so you never know. If it will make it easier for her, you know” I am just thinking this “I would yes, go for it. How do you feel, your big day is coming?” Wade looked up from his laptop “like shit, not going to lie. It’s not easy, my dad aged a lot. It’s not easy” I laughed “really not” I want it but then I don’t because it’s just a headache.

I am not sure if Ally is walking slow on purpose for my benefit or because she is tired, I am walking slow. I need to go to my second meeting “you’re going now? Reign and I are just going to see some places while you go” watching Robyn walk over to me “I knew that, Jay is here” I pointed out “I will see you back here, be in time for the Moulin thing, you know what I mean. I should be back early actually. You over the sex thing?” I asked “mhmmm, I suppose. I felt lonely though and you took all of the bed covers” I did do that, I was nice and warm “mhmm, yeah and then you took them, I was cold and it woke me but it doesn’t matter I will see you soon” pressing a kiss to the top of Robyn’ head “you will, I love you” peaking into the stroller “it’s my princess, daddy misses you so much. I know, I know I didn’t get to see you this morning, but I will be back” Reign held my finger and then tried to yank it to her mouth “no, we don’t do that now. Sé una buena chica para mamá ahora, te veré más tarde” Reign’ smile grew “aww Mi Hermosa, you are thinking what the hell this nigga speaking on, I will teach you. Be good now” moving back from the stroller “call if you need anything ok? See you later” let me straighten myself up and walk off like a man, not a crippled man. Walking off towards Ally, she is waiting on me for this meeting.

Well would you look at that, Noami is here with my brother, it’s laughable and I don’t really care “it’s so pathetic” Ally mouthed to me “it is, it’s my real estate but she is saying I used the name, I used her contacts. She is clinging onto me” the developer walked over to me first “sir Davenport, welcome” I haven’t heard that before, sir Davenport “Steve” I said as I shook his hand “it’s good to see you again, it’s been so long but are you impressed with the development?” nodding my head “I am, it looks great. What are the sales figures looking like?” I hope it is well “well we are aiming for first time buyers, with you having this new initiative where you help them to buy it’s working a dream” nodding my head “just we are having this conflict with Noami and yourself which is stopping the development” looking over at Noami, waving her over “it’s a bitter divorce but I am going to win this” she is so cocky for no reason “you are holding onto something that is dead, you have that dickhead, he is clearly your lap dog. Look at him” I sniggered “what is it?” I just want to know “you are using my dad’ people” I groaned “Naomi! Your dad does not want to fucking know you, he hates you! Stop holding onto it, stop holding onto this, anything we had. You want to be close to me, it’s weird. This is my business, not yours. So what this is your dad’ workers, they will come to anyone with money. There is no we, this is mine. Once that divorce come through, we done. You have nothing now, just Malik. There is no we in this, this will be Robyn’ not yours. You was just there at that moment in time, I needed your contacts and now I have it so, what you want? Steve, never listen to this woman, she has no say in anything ok?” I understand he didn’t know what to do but he does now “you want me to have nothing?” Noami said, she sounds hurt “I tried, you did this. I tried” turning around “speak to my lawyer now, and hurry up with the divorce” walking off towards Ally “shall we go inside?” Steve said, we might as well.

Resting my head against the headrest sighing out “tired?” Ally said “I am, but good news don’t you think? I wanted to give back, my dad didn’t do that. He was selfish in his prime, I don’t want that. I want people to remember Maurice Davenport was a giving man. Doing what I did for the people buying house for the first time, I made the best choice. I think it’s good to give back and give the young a steppingstone and I thank Robyn for that. She opened my heart to this; she gave me that because at first the estate was never that, but I realised how blessed I am, and I should help others” I grinned to myself “am I doing well?” I asked “you are, it’s a good change and I am happy to see it for you. You was awful and you was killing yourself in the process, I am happy for you” she ain’t wrong, I am shocked that I am still around.

It’s always a pleasure hearing Nalah’ voice, she can be posh as fuck or loud as fuck and ghetto with it. She has come to my suite in the mood to be loud as fuck, I wanted to rest a little but my sister is here “Shawn? You here too?” I said, I didn’t think he would be here when Robyn asked Nalah to babysit “well you called and then I saw Nalah” letting out an oh, hugging Shawn “you good? I ain’t heard you in a while, the ladies in your life keeping you busy? Hey Robyn” sitting down on the couch, I groaned out feeling the dull pain “hey Shawn, I will be in my room with Nalah” nodding my head as I shuffled back on the couch “I am good, just busy. My mind is just everywhere, I have so much going on” rubbing my chin “I feel you, you look a little pale. I mean you are pale but you look it even more” shaking my head “my leg is in pain, I am having pain killers so that should hopefully keep it at bay but it hurts a lot” Shawn looked at me in sadness “get stronger painkillers bro?” I chuckled “I can’t, with being an ex-drug addicted he don’t want to give me something I can get addicted too but this shit ain’t working, I will see my doctor once Robyn goes back home. I can’t ruin her time here” Shawn groaned out “you’re having a crisis; you are stressing yourself out. You about to kill yourself with this, this is what scared me before. Hiding the fact, you are too, tell her. You got to tell, or I will, even Nalah will” why can’t people just relax, they start panicking over it “don’t be so dramatic, I have my medication, it will be fine. I know when I get bad, I am speaking to you because you’re my brother but please don’t make me not want to speak to you” I will just never tell him anything again, if he is going to do that to me.

Holding the dresses up “do I go slutty or subtle?” holding them up in front of Nalah “slutty all the way” Nalah chose right “good, because then I can hopefully get some dick” walking back into the bathroom, I know I am being dramatic but I will be going back without it “chile, you not getting anything? Is my brother being selfish” rolling my eyes “you mean New York’ biggest flirt known, that man is a walking, talking flirt. He could flirt his way through anything, and it really annoys me so much. Then he has the nerve to be like Robyn it was nothing, negro it was something. You made it into something when you started speaking, why does he do that!” I ranted on “a man stuck in his ways Robyn, but I don’t think he’s that bad. He is just used to being that way, he means no harm and he is totally in love with you. I see the difference. Maybe you dressing slutty will get you lucky tonight, you want me to take Reign with me to my apartment” walking back out of the hotel “you have an apartment?” I questioned, Nalah giggled “uhm, yeah. I do, well yeah” she shrugged, furrowing my eyebrows “you do, or you don’t?” that is weird “I do” she is giggling “but what is funny?” I am confused “it’s not mine, that is why” letting out an oh “you can just stay here” I don’t want to burden whoever she is with, Nalah took in a deep breath “it’s Shawn’” she finally spoke, letting an oh “that is fine, I don’t mind that” they both can share the babysitting “I am staying there you see” Shawn’ sweet for allowing her to be there “for free too?” I questioned “not exactly, a blowjob a day keeps the fees away” I froze staring at Nalah “pardon?” I didn’t hear that “me and Shawn have been, you know” I gasped “what!?” I screamed out, Nalah shushed me “don’t, Maurice doesn’t know. Shawn wants to keep it quiet, he thinks Maurice will care but I don’t think he will but then again, he knows Maurice differently but yeah” Nalah clapped her hands “I am so happy, like I am very happy” I cooed out “not even going to lie but I have seen the happiness in you, it was different to see, oh my god. You two really fucking, oh my! This is good, you’re happy” I am in shock about these two and Maurice does not know.

I am still shook about this Shawn and Nalah business “I need to ask, I can’t shake it off” holding my heels in my hands “what makes you think Maurice wouldn’t understand this? Like, it’s not a good thing? He knows Shawn, I am sure Shawn wouldn’t do something stupid, and also aren’t you slightly taller than him?” Nalah snorted laughing “well…” she dragged “I tend to not wear heels on nights out but I am not sure, I don’t care if he likes it or not but Shawn, he has the issue. He thinks it will ruin his brotherhood with Maurice, and I questioned him, he goes you don’t get it. Maybe I don’t but we can’t keep it a secret for so long, I am sick of hiding. I mean we have literally been walking in together and Maurice doesn’t see it, he is so simple but I also think it’s because he is busy. Maurice’ mind is elsewhere. My dad, I swear he is such an ass at times but then he always has a reason on why he is, like not turning up to meetings. I called him yesterday, I said oh you are in New York, he said no I went back to Texas and I goes this is like a big thing for him and you’re ditching him. He goes how else is he going to learn, I feel he thinks Maurice is going to do something dumb to upset the family, which he is. I mean Maurice has been after the family for a while, this is his chance and I see it becoming a mess. But yeah, his mind is elsewhere so he is not worried about me but then also don’t want to pop that up too, oh by the way I am fucking your long-time friend or brother. You know what, he got a big dick” waving Nalah off “don’t tell me these things” I can’t even deal “he makes up for it in bed, we both getting old as fuck, well I am anyways and I goes look Shawn. I need a child, if you ain’t up for that then leave me alone, he said once the air is cleared why not but also, not sure how my family will feel about this. He is like family to us” Nalah is crazy “well that shipped sailed a long time ago now, he ain’t family. He is your man, but like all these years? You both could have got it together then” I mean they have missed all those years “I was in a bad place, I couldn’t. I was a mess within myself, there was so much happening in my life and family that I just didn’t see it. I feel like since Maurice has settled so has Shawn, whatever Maurice goes through he does too, he was having a shit marriage so was Shawn having a shit time. I feel like I didn’t get to know Shawn because he is caring for Maurice” she is right, Shawn needed Maurice to settle “that is a friendship” I mumbled, I envy them for having such a bond.

I am ready to go out, I mean I been ready but Nalah got me so caught up in her talk “you both took long” Shawn said, I can’t keep a straight face and this is on her “he is asleep?” I pointed at Maurice, he lifted his head forward “I am awake” Maurice sat up “you look beautiful, Reign fell asleep on me too” I can tell she did, they both lazy as shit “dad not letting you sleep, he going to stress you until it’s gone to you” Nalah touched the top of Maurice head “he ain’t stressing me, I am good. You coming Tokyo with me, next thing” Nalah’ eyes near bulged out “am I? Since when?” I laughed, I laughed because she wants to be with her man “since I said so, if you don’t want to be in the fucking business then say it, I don’t have time for bullshit” Maurice snapped “Maurice” I said, what is wrong with him “it’s a long day, ain’t it nigga” Shawn patted his shoulder “nothing wrong with me, just shit is annoying, I don’t need you to pat my damn shoulder. Just take Reign from me” if he is in a bad mood maybe we can cancel “it’s ok, I can take Reign” I said while walking over to Maurice “what is wrong with you, that was so unnecessary” placing Reign over my shoulder and walked off with Reign in my arms “I just woke up ok, I am getting changed” so he says but he didn’t need to switch up on Nalah, I understand why he doesn’t want to say.

[lizziehatter]

A Private Celebration - Cressworth *NSFW*

Thomas and Audrey Rose have officialy become engaged, and there is a grand dinner in the Wadsworth estate to celebrate it. However, they can hardly exchange any words alone during it and decide, with a little help from Liza, to have their own private celebration. Very NSFW.   My masterlist can be found here. 

Outside the windows of Thornbriar, the rain is pouring and lightning striking. It would normally create quite a gloomy atmosphere but on this particular day I am involved in such a cloud of blissful happiness that nothing could ever be bleak. Thomas and I are officially engaged. My head is still wrapping itself around that fact and sometimes it still feels like a dream. But whenever I turn my gaze to find Thomas’ across the table, I see that same boundless joy reflected in his eyes and I know this is real.  

     We are having a dinner to celebrate our engagement and all our families - Liza, Aunt Amelia, father, Uncle Jonathan and Daciana - are here. Even Thomas’ father has come, and while he is a cold and insufferable man, not even he is able to quell the happiness of this day. I feel a small pang of sadness thinking of those that aren’t present. I think of my mother, of how I long for her to be able to give me advice and help me get dressed into my wedding gown. And of Nathaniel, not the monster he became, but my loving older brother who I still miss. Sometimes I feel guilt over missing him. But my mind has too many memories of him, of the love and happiness that it just refuses to fully reconcile this Nathaniel with the darkness that engulfed him. Only now, these wounds are more thoroughly healed, and the pain no longer drowns me as it once did. I can more easily move on from the sadness and feel the joy of this day again. Thomas seems to have noticed my brief moment of sadness, and his eyes carry tenderness and a silent question as they meet mine.

    “Is everything alright?”

    In that sweet moment, I am reminded once again of how much I love the man in front of me. How I have given myself to him completely. We are both whole on our own but together we are better, stronger; we can support each other through anything. I give him a smile that extends to my entire body, a smile that carries all the joy I feel in knowing we will get to build a life together. If my love for him was not already limitless, the smile he gives me in return alone would make it so. For that moment, we are lost in our own little universe, unaware of all other people in the room, sharing all the promises our life will bring.      

                                                           *****

    The weather has somehow managed to become even more menacing by the end of the dinner. Thomas, Daciana and their father couldn’t possibly make the journey back to their estate without risking a serious accident. Some concessions will have to be made to what society dictates is proper regarding an unmarried couple spending the night in the same house. Aunt Amelia ordered for rooms to be arranged for the Cresswells at the opposite end from where my chambers are. She and Liza will also be sleeping in the room connected to my own.  

    I move closer to Thomas so I can wish him goodnight before we need to separate. Being officially engaged, it isn’t scandalous anymore for us to hold hands, a small blessing I thank profusely as I move one hand to intertwine with his. Even through my gloves, I feel heat spread on my body. Judging from the intensity in his look, he probably feels it too. Our engagement also means we will be allowed a little time to talk somewhat privately before someone came over to join us, silently announcing that this was the time limit for privacy propriety dictated.

    “Tell me once again, Wadsworth” Thomas turns to face me; resting those golden flecked brown eyes on mine, his gaze so intense it could burn down worlds. “Tell me this is real and not a dream, that I can truly call you my betrothed and we’ll be spending our lives in the company of each other. I need to hear it one more time because against all evidence that supports it, my brain refuses to believe such happiness can be real.”

    Though I’m facing the same struggle, I tell him the words, because maybe they will help convince me too. “This is the reality, my love.” I move to hold both his hands in mine and can’t hold back a smile, which I see reflected in his own face. I once feared marriage could be a cage, but I know now that with Thomas it could never be so. “We are betrothed.” I place a delicate kiss on his lips and take the opportunity to whisper in his ear the words I would like to say a thousand times “I love you, Thomas Creswell, and it is permanent.

    ”Thomas wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me gently to him. I know that despite the apparent privacy, we are being carefully watched. Still, I am willing to stretch the borders of propriety a little, and I lay my head on Thomas’ shoulder, revelling in the perfection of this moment. So quietly I am certain only I can hear, he says “And I love you, my dearest Audrey Rose.” It is but a simple statement, no playfully flirtatious tone in it, no smirk accompanying the words. I know this is the side of Thomas only those he truly holds dear gets to see, and this knowledge warms my heart more than any other words he could have spoken. I wish we could stay this way forever, wish that we didn’t have to part soon lest we caused Aunt Amelia to die from shock. As if also knowing this was exactly what her mother was likely to do, Liza approaches us and I use all my self-control to move away from Thomas’ embrace.

    Liza gives us an apologetic smile. “I am sorry for not being able to give the two of you more time, dear cousin and Mr. Creswell. But if I might say, you two are being quite the scandalous pair today.” Her smile now turns mischievous, as if in fact she is proud of our boldness. “Mother was truly about to come over here herself after noticing you didn’t seem inclined to part from that embrace. I figured I would be the lesser evil, really.”

    “Oh dear Liza, you are definitely much preferred. I am afraid Aunt Amelia might scold Thomas, me, or both of us and it would certainly not be a nice way to end this evening.” I hold her arm in mine, to show how truly thankful I am that she is my best friend in this world.

   “It definitely would not be fun at all to be scolded, so I too should thank you.” Thomas says, playfully.

    “You are very much welcome, my future cousin. And there is one more little thing I want to do for you two. I feel it is my duty to inform that my mother has drank far too much wine to do anything other than sleeping soundly all night. And as for me, I sleep like the dead.” She gives us a little wink at her pun, mirth spreading all over her face. Despite appearing to be the perfect society young lady, Liza love testing the boundaries of what would be an acceptable behaviour. And I loved that about her. “Certainly, neither one of us would notice if your door opened, Audrey Rose. Or if there was any kind of sound coming from your chambers.” I can feel my cheeks burning at the boldness of such a statement. Liza just smiles a charmingly devious grin, and adds “Just as an extra caution, the connecting door keys could also mysteriously disappear for this night.”

    At the scandal of her suggestion, I am certain my face has become even redder. Yet my heart is thrilled by this prospect. Wasn’t having a private moment with Thomas exactly what I had been wishing for all evening? This dinner was meant to celebrate a decision that would shape our lives forever, it signed that there would be a time when we no longer had any restrictions in expressing our love. And yet, we had barely managed to exchange any words alone.

     As if reading my thoughts, Liza spoke. “Really, you both are the two people most emotionally involved in this and you have barely had the chance to exchange more than a couple words without interruption. So if I were you, Mr. Cresswell and dear cousin, I would take this opportunity to have a celebration where you could actually talk and act freely.” She looked around the room, most likely checking if her mother had already taken her attention away from us now that me and Thomas were not alone anymore. “I will move away for a little bit, to give you some privacy. Please think about what I just said.” With that, she went a little away from us, joining Daciana in a conversation, but still being close enough that it was not inappropriate. I turned to face Thomas, deciding to do the brave and bold thing tonight. “I … I think Liza is right and … we should do it. Have a celebration to ourselves, I mean.”

                                                             *****

    I am pacing around my room, wondering whether Thomas will actually dare to come. I wonder why my maid has not come to dress me for the night yet. Wonder if Liza has something to do with it. I let out a small laugh, for I am quite sure she does.

    When I hear a knock on the door, my heart immediately starts hammering in my chest. I open the door and see Thomas, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses and looking like he is the happiest person in the universe. I immediately pull him inside and scan the corridor nervously, checking if anyone could have seen him. Mercifully, there is no one outside.

     Thomas puts the wine and glasses on the table and starts talking. “Wadsworth…” he pauses for a while, and I see that he’s struggling with words, a trait I know only comes up when he wishes to discuss more emotional feelings. “I don’t even have words to express the extent of my happiness to know I will be spending the rest of my days with the woman of my life, because nothing I could say would do it justice.” As he says this, he takes my hands and slowly pulls me to him, locking me in an embrace. I lay my head in his chest and smell the now familiar scent of coffee and cologne, which my heart associates with safety and love.

    Thomas hugs me closer and bends over a little to speak in my ear.  “And while the grand dinner was extremely entertaining, I too think Liza is very much right, and this moment warrants a somewhat more… private celebration. And I knew you had already said you wanted it too, but still I’ve been pacing in my room for half an hour thinking whether I should do this or not. In the end I decided that you would not consider me any more of a scoundrel than you already do at my complete disregard of gentlemanly manners. So I would like suggest that we open some wine, toast to our brilliant future together, perhaps share a kiss or two.”

    I move my head a little bit away from his chest so I can look at him. “Just to make it clear, are you proposing we drink wine, alone in my room, at this very improper hour, and then engage in indecent behaviour, Creswell?” I tease him, while also thinking I truly have no objection to this plan at all, and he knows it. “Oh dear Audrey Rose, of course not. I only meant one or two chaste kisses. We have just got your father’s blessing for our engagement and I would like to stay in my future father in law’s good graces. I highly doubt behaving inappropriately with his daughter would help me with that.” Despite his words, his eyes carry a mischievous spark that indicates the idea has also crossed his mind. “However” he continues, confirming thoughts of indecency had indeed been in his head “I might be willing to change my mind if said daughter wishes to engage in a bit of debauchery. I know this is a very likely possibility since I am, after all, hard to resist.” He says it while looking me straight in the eyes and watching my reaction. And I know that it isn’t just a humorous remark, it is Thomas’ way of checking that I am absolutely okay with his being here. Of making sure I am consenting to a kiss or maybe more than that. And I definitely am. My heart and my body had willingly given themselves to him a long time ago.

    I return his look and answer, while walking towards him and slowly trailing my hands up his arms “The daughter in question very much wishes to partake in an evening of drinking and debauchery with the man she loves the most in this life. “And Thomas, I…” I struggle to put my thoughts into words. But I need to find a way to say this. After all the suffering our miscommunication has caused Thomas I no longer want to leave anything unclarified. “I am also deliriously happy. All day today, I’ve felt like I am living in a dream, because I don’t know how else so much happiness could exist inside me. I love you. I feel like saying it a thousand times because it’s the only way I believe these little words could actually describe how I feel. I love you, Thomas Creswell, and I am wholly yours, body and soul, from this day on and for all my life.”

    Thomas stood quiet for a while, just looking at me, his brown eyes filled with joy. It makes my heart ache to think that one day I had made those eyes be filled with sadness instead. We had already had a painful but necessary conversation about the events on the Etruria. Though Thomas had forgiven me, I wonder if I’d ever be fully able to forgive myself. As if sensing the feelings that are wandering in my mind, Thomas gently brushes one hand along my cheek. “Today is not a day for thinking of our hardships, Audrey Rose. All the trials we have been through, the communication issues and the heartbreak, we faced them and we remained together. Today is the day we should celebrate all the good things that are to come.”  

    At that moment, I am left yet again wonderstruck by how much I love him. When he speaks to me like this, it feels like the world is comprised of just the two of us and our love, as vast as the universe. A sharp pain in my legs, now common whenever I am standing for too long, returns my conscience to reality. I move to sit on the chair by the table where the wine stands, opening the bottle and pouring it on the two glasses. Thomas sits on the other chair and I hand him one glass.

    “I propose a toast to our future together.” I say, getting my glass and holding it up. “To this love that’s as great as the distance to the stars. To trust, partnership and the joy I feel in knowing I will wake up beside you every day.” Thomas opens a grin that could light up the world. “To the amazing Cressworths, partners in life and science.” He says, clinking his glass with mine. We both sip the wine and I can’t help smiling as well.  

    We talk about our families, share fun stories from our childhood, discuss our favourite books and even some autopsy cases, as the night unravels around us. The knowledge that Liza has indeed locked the door that leads to the connected room, the wine we are drinking and the trust and ease I feel around Thomas slowly take away my tension and the fear of us being discovered. We sit in an atmosphere of complete ease around each other, comfortable even in the moments of silence. I find myself thinking what it would be like to be able to share moments like these every day.  This thought, of getting to spend my life with him, makes me feel like I was walking among stars, inside the universe Thomas had once painted for me, because it is completely beautiful and mesmerising. It makes me want to forsake all propriety and just jump into his embrace until all I can feel and smell and see is him, and the sweet haze the wine is slowly causing in my brain does no favours to my self-control.                             “Wadsworth, I’ll ask forgiveness in advance for my ungentlemanly remark, but when you stare at me like that, like you wish to devour me whole, it makes it so much harder to not do something completely indecent.” Thomas says with a fire in his eyes. God help me, I am completely lost by that look. Damn society, damn whatever roles are expected of recently engaged couples, damn what anyone would think of it. I get up from my chair and place myself in Thomas’ lap, wrapping my hands around his neck, and just saying what I want without holding back. “Then by all means, let’s not control ourselves anymore. I love you, I want you and I see nothing wrong with that.”

    I crash my lips against his and run my hands all over his back. He returns the kiss just as intensely, one hand wrapping around my waist and the other tangling itself in my hair. One small part of my brain registers Thomas is removing my hairpins, letting my curls fall freely on my back. All the other parts are completely surrendered to the fire slowly engulfing me. Thomas’ fingers move to the laces of my dress, but stop hesitatingly. I slowly break our kiss and move my mouth to whisper in his ear “You may absolutely continue what you were going to do, Creswell. There is nothing I want more than to be free from this dress.” If I am being honest with myself, there are actually a few things I want more. But getting to them involves losing the dress, so they are really one and the same.

    “Impossible as it seems, I love you even more when you are so bold, Audrey Rose. Do feel free to do it more times.” he says, as he gently lifts me from his lap. Carefully, he turns me around and starts working on the laces, at an agonizingly slow pace for my burning body. He places a kiss on my neck and I feel a surge of electricity from head to toe. When he is done unlacing it, I remove my arms from the sleeves and let the bodice fall to the floor. He continues his work, dutifully helping me remove my over and underskirts, and the ridiculously long bustle I am wearing with them. Whenever his hands graze my body, even though it is through the fabric, I melt a little in anticipation. I step out of the skirts and of my silk shoes, pushing then under the table to get them out of the way, and turn to face Thomas.

   Now I am only wearing my corset, chemise, drawers and stockings. It’s still many layers, but just the fact of standing in front of Thomas in a state of undress is intoxicatingly intimate. He looks at me with such wonder and adoration it is as if I am the queen of our own universe. “You’re beautiful, Audrey Rose” he speaks softly, his words a caress in my skin.

    I can’t hold myself back anymore, not when I see all the love and desire present in his eyes. Not when his words and his adoration make me love and want him even more than I already do. I move my lips to his again and both of us get lost in the sensation of our embrace. All the universe is forgotten and consists only of our tongues touching, our hands wandering from hair to face to back, like some sort of furious yet loving dance that gets us both stumbling across the room. We only stop for brief moments, to unlace my corset, to take off Thomas’ jacket, to remove my drawers. Somehow we reach my bed and Thomas lies down while I sit on top of him, straddling his lap. He pulls me down gently to whisper in my ear. “You have no idea how much I adore how scandalous you’re being today, Wadsworth.” There is a playful teasing in his tone and a raggedness in his breath that show me just how much he adores it. And by God, I love it just as much, and if loving too much will condemn me, then so be it.

    He starts moving his hands up my legs, in a deliriously slow pace, which makes it difficult to gather enough rational thoughts in my brain to form a reply. Perhaps it’s the wine, or perhaps it’s the intoxication of the moment itself or just simply the fact that my brain cannot register anything but him, but my answer is even more daring. “Trust me, Cresswell, I know just how much you loved my scandalous behaviour.” I slowly move my mouth along his jaw and whisper in his ear. “In fact, I can feel it now, since we no longer have all the layers of a dress separating us.” I accompany the last statement by moving my hips slightly, which elicits a moan from Thomas and sends a jolt of pleasure all up my spine. I long, no, I need to see more of him. My hands move to the buttons of his shirt, slowly pulling each one of them open. When I am done, I take a minute to restrain myself and not immediately run my hands all over his torso. I want to just look at this wonderful boy that I love with all of my heart and all of my soul. He is almost painfully handsome, like something made by gods, like the Greek sculptures at museums.

    No longer managing to stand still, I lay a hand just over his pants’ waistband and lean down to place a light kiss on his shoulder. So many times I had wondered how his skin would feel under my hands. How the strong planes of his stomach would react if I placed kisses all over it. I waste no time before taking his shirt off of his arm and acting on these wishes. Thomas draws out small moans every time my lips touch his skin. I move my right hand slowly up his stomach, savouring that feeling which ignites a flame inside me. It seems Thomas feels the same way, for he pulls me to him, bringing his lips to mine with an urgent hunger that’s incredibly thrilling. We become locked in an embrace composed of fire, skin and electricity, each touch both satisfying and igniting our desire.

   Without breaking the kiss, Thomas rolls us around so that he is now lying on top and I revel in the sensation of his weight over me. I wrap my legs around him using them to pull him closer, to drive his hips more strongly against mine and feel more of that incredible pressure building in my centre. I can feel that he desires me as much as I desire him and the thought that I can elicit such a reaction spurs a wave of pleasure so strong I can’t believe our bodies are not yet touching with no barriers between them.  Thomas moves his hand under my chemise until it is resting on top of my stockings. He looks at me as if checking for approval at his touch, and I give him a small nod. At that, Thomas places a sweet kiss right above my knee as he slowly pushes each of the stockings down. He then traces the reverse path, kissing all the way up my legs, stopping a little longer on the scar at my thigh. I know he still feels responsible for it. I fear he will always be. But I would take a thousand more knife wounds if it meant saving his life, because I can no longer see my future without us both together.

    Thomas’ tongue continues travelling up, erasing all thoughts of fear and heartbreak off of my mind, engulfing everything in a haze of desire. As he moves up, he also grabs the fabric of my chemise, pushing it up until it reaches my arms. I hold them up and he takes it completely off, leaving me bare before him.

    Standing near Thomas like this, showing all of me, is as intoxicating as a drug. It speaks of trust, of desire and of a complete surrender. The intimacy of the moment hangs in the air around us, hangs in the way his golden brown eyes move over me with both tenderness and lust. I am not quite embarrassed at being undressed; I want this and feel the power of having made the choice to share this with Thomas. Nevertheless I can tell a blush is forming in my cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the novelty of this moment, at the excitement humming around us.

    Ever observant, Thomas notices it and leans over me, one hand gently lifting my chin up so I am facing him, and later stroking my cheek. When he speaks, his tone is filled with such admiration that it completely washes away any small bit of self-consciousness I might be feeling. “Please never be embarrassed, my love. You are the most beautiful creature in this universe.” And if I wasn’t already completely his, I would become right now, seeing how much I mean to him.  

    He gives me a sweet kiss, bending more over me in other to do so. When I feel our bare chests touch, I am engulfed in a fire that has me turning the kiss into something more urgent, my hands moving all along his back. I feel it is too soon when he breaks it, but quickly forget it as he keeps placing kisses on my neck, then right above my clavicle and going slowly lower; while his left hand moves from my knee and up my thighs in a scorching trail. Not ever before have I felt this way; have I needed him so much. I think my desire can’t become greater, until his mouth reaches my nipple and he gently sucks on it, his hand stroking the other one. This sends a wave of pleasure crashing on my body and I release such a lustful sound I didn’t know I could make. Thomas takes this as an encouragement and increases the intensity of his explorations, and the feeling of his tongue on my skin becomes all my brain can focus on. Emerging among the haze of my brain, a need born of curiosity and desire has me moving my hand up his thighs, searching, exploring. When I slightly brush my hand against the bulge in his breeches I can feel Thomas’ breath catch against my skin.

    “Audrey Rose, you don’t have to.”

    “You” I say, though it’s hard to make the words come out between my accelerated breaths “are the sweetest and kindest person on the universe, you know that?” I give him a gentle kiss. “I know very well that I don’t have to, my darling Thomas, but I very much want to touch you. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this, how many times I’ve imagined it.”

    “You’ve… imagined me?” I notice again how this is a side of Thomas only I get to see. The Thomas that existed in public, his cocky and overconfident façade, would have teased me about thinking about him undressed. In here though, with just the two of us and no barriers, he is actually sweet and a little unbelieving that I had actually done it. But how could I not have, when my mind so often wandered off to think of him, of each little thing I loved and longed to explore and know? “Yes” I say, simply. “Haven’t you … imagined me?” He looks down before answering, looking almost …. guilty.

    “Yes, I have imagined you. More times than I could count, and I felt bad every time it happened. I tried so hard to avoid it. I keep thinking I have no right, because you are a person and I have no right to sexualise you for my pleasure.” Oh my sweet, darling Thomas. How could he feel bad for such a thing? Didn’t he know I would gladly allow him to imagine me always, to desire me always? For so long we’ve known each other now and there are still parts of him I didn’t imagine existed.  

    “Well, I want to ask you something then, Thomas.” Softly, I put a hand on his shoulder to move us both so I can stand on my knees, facing him. Then I take his hand and place it on the outside of my thigh, laying my hand just on top of it. “Next time you are thinking of me, imagine the feeling of caressing my skin likes this.” I move both our hands up my leg, slowly, savouring every moment. “Don’t ever feel bad about desiring me, because you should know I desire you just as much. The way I see it, thinking of me for your pleasure does not in any way diminish me as a person. On the contrary, it’s part of our very human nature that we are attracted to each other.” Thomas is so unusually quiet, as if completely focused in this moment, in my words and in his hand on my skin. The intensity in his eyes, though, shows a glimpse of the usual unrest of his mind, always with a thousand thoughts going through it. I hope my words will be engraved in his mind always, because I don’t ever wish him to think this could ever be wrong. I now move his hand higher up, until it reaches my breast. “Imagine the feeling of my breasts; imagine the sounds I make when you touch me this way. You can imagine every part of me, Thomas. You can even imagine ...” I get his hands and lead them between my legs, hardly believing that I am actually being this forward. But I need to feel his touch as much as I want him to know I truly mean it when I say he can think of all of me “ ...the feeling of your fingers entering me, the wetness in here that’s only for you”. Thomas’ finger inside me is making it harder to concentrate now, making it hard not to collapse into only moans of his name. I concentrate all my efforts to finish my line of thought, and move my mouth to whisper in his ear. “Promise me that, when you think of all of this, you will remember you have my absolute permission. Remember I feel not diminished but honoured to have you desiring me in such a way, because I know you love me Thomas, as I love you, and I trust you with all that I am.”

   He is now pumping his finger slowly, while using another finger to massage my clit, and I can no longer form any phrases. I just lose myself in the sensation of this moment, how I love the wave of pleasure starting to build up inside me. Without breaking our contact, Thomas lays me down again and brings his lips to mine, the kiss harder and more urgent than any we ever shared before. The effect of all these sensations combined on my brain has me feeling as if all the world, logical thoughts and words have ceased to exist; and everything resumes in me and Thomas, skin touching skin in a fiery embrace. He breaks our kiss only to continue placing kisses on my neck, on my collarbone, my breasts and each time lower, the path he’s making lighting my skin on fire.

    He finally reaches the place I crave his touch the most and nothing could ever have prepared me for the feeling when he replaces his finger with his tongue, sucking around my knot. I can’t control myself and say his name in the form of a moan, my hand moving to tangle itself in his messy curls, my fingers curling with pleasure. He stops briefly and both his words and the vibration of his lips against my sensitive skin nearly take me over the edge.

    “I adore it when you moan my name like this, my love, and I hope to cause it to happen many times more today.” He immediately returns his tongue to my clit and I am not sure what my answer to his remark is. The closest thing that resembles a phrase I can think of is “Oh Thomas, yes”, and I can’t tell if I say it in between my moans.

    Thomas adds another finger inside me, pumping slowly at first so I can adjust to it. Then he gradually increases the rhythm, his fingers so perfectly long that they can reach just the right spot, while his tongue licks and sucks on my folds intensely but carefully, as if he wants to savour every inch of me. With every touch, I feel a surge of electricity go through my body and increase my desire, making me grab the sheets and arch my hips up.  We are still new at this, still finding our own rhythm and knowing each other, but even this search is thrilling. Thomas is constantly checking how I like it, wanting to make sure I am thoroughly satisfied. And as damned as I might be for it, I am, so very much.

    I once thought kissing him was the highest pleasure I could feel, but this, this was even greater. The waves of pleasure are crashing over me more frequently now, building up until I feel an overwhelming need to have his tongue touch me so close to where it is now, but not quite there. It’s as if all the tension accumulated inside me has been gathered in that point, needing to be released. I don’t quite manage to say the words, but my body seems to have a will of its own and I arch my hips to the left. This draws Thomas’ attention. He lifts his head and gives me an inquisitive look.

  “It was just…” I pick up my courage and say it with honesty “if you just move your tongue slightly to your right … it would be …” I can’t keep going, because Thomas has already immediately obliged, while also pumping the two fingers that are inside me faster, and I could swear I was seeing stars. The tension begins to be released inside me, spreading from where Thomas is touching me until the tips of my fingers, a melody building up to its triumphant conclusion. He keeps up the pace of his sucking and when pumps a third finger inside me, I reach my climax, adrenaline and energy jolting through my body until I can’t form any coherent thought or remember another word that’s not his name, which escapes as a moan from my lips, over and over again. Thomas doesn’t remove his fingers or stops his ministrations until I have completely relaxed around him, feeling blissfully in peace and unable to do anything more than breathe in gasps. Then he moves up to lay by my side and I give him a smile that I hope conveys just how wonderful he is. I take his hand in mine and we lay side by side, until our breaths even. When I can speak again, I tell him one more time, hoping repetition will carve these words in his heart, will make him never doubt they are true.

    “I love you. I love you more than anything, Thomas.”

    He stares at me in a way that makes me think he is finally starting to believe.      “And I love you too, my dearest Audrey Rose, my equal and my partner.”

    I move my lips to his again, starting a soft kiss that slowly grows hungrier as our bare chests meet, as my legs tangle with his and I move my hands along his back, drawing him closer still.  He rolls us both over and lies on top of me, placing kisses on my neck with one hand tangled in my hair and the other caressing from my knees up to my thighs. Where our bodies meet, I can feel how great his desire is, and this thought ignites another flame inside me. The need to touch him and fully see him emerges once more, and I move my hands between his legs until I can touch the bulge in his breeches.

    Carefully, I stroke along all of his length, which elicits a series of low moans from Thomas. I marvel at how hard it feels to the touch and wonder if it doesn’t hurt against the confines of his pants. My hands move to undo his buttons while I whisper in his ear “I believe it’s only fair I have my turn as well.” This time he doesn’t object, and there is even a spark of mischief in his eyes as he speaks “And I would do anything to fulfil your wishes, my dearest, so I am more than happy to oblige.”

    “Good.” I say, as I turn us so that now I am pinning him to the bed “You have absolutely no idea how much I want to touch you right now, Cresswell.” Softly, I graze my lips over his in the slight shadow of a kiss, moving my mouth lower to his neck and continuing to place soft kisses there “I want to kiss each and every part of you.” His skin feels amazing against my lips, simultaneously quelling and kindling my passion. My mouth is now on his chest, then at his stomach, never stopping teasing him. Thomas’ breathing is getting more and more uneven the longer I keep caressing him, and I feel like a queen at having the power to cause him to make the lustful sounds coming from his mouth right now. “But do you want to know what I want most of all?” I now kiss just above the bones of his hips, and I can feel his body shudder when I do it. It takes all of my self-control not to rip off his clothing and just take him in my mouth. I move both of us to sit on the edge of the bed, and then place my hands on the waistband of his breeches, pulling them out along with his drawers. I am wholly transfixed by the sight of him bare before me. I move my eyes all over him, taking every inch slowly, devouring and savouring all little details. The sight of his cock, stiff with his wanting, is almost enough to break me completely and send me over the edge. But I am enjoying teasing him way too much, and it’s not yet the time to fully indulge in my wishes. I give him a mischievous smile, while nudging his legs apart with my knee. Thomas has his eyes focused on me, his gaze so intense I can almost feel the fire that must be burning inside him. “What I want most of all, Thomas,” I get down on my knees in front of him and return the fire in his gaze “is to take you in my mouth, right now.” This has him losing it completely. “Please.” his voice comes out more as a moan “Please, Audrey Rose, just please do it.”

    My heart is beating faster from the anticipation of finally touching Thomas, thrills of excitement going through my entire body. The feeling of being on my knees, but to be doing this of my own choice, it’s intoxicating. It’s like I am offering him all that I am, no barriers, no secrets. And my inquiring mind is ignited with the eagerness to know how he will feel against my lips.

    Keeping my gaze locked in his, I take his cock with one hand and give a lick all along its length, savouring this new sensation; his skin hot and rigid against my tongue. Never having done this before, I let myself be guided by instinct, by desire and by Thomas’ reactions. I keep exploring him, slowly gaining confidence and eliciting a series of low moans from Thomas. I get a surge of brazen boldness and move my mouth to the tip of his cock, taking him in as deep as I can while wrapping my hands around what I couldn’t fit. Slowly at first, I start to work with both fingers and tongue, tracing circles with it around the tip. As I gradually increase my rhythm, Thomas’ breathing get more and more irregular and he tangles one of his hands in my hair, gently holding my head. I feel as if we are incredibly connected in this moment, somehow communicating without words so well that I can understand he is using the hand in my hair to indicate he likes the way I’m doing it. Our gazes never leave one another, keeping him and I existing in this small universe composed only of love, passion and trust, where the pleasure both of us are feeling is so intense it could burn down worlds. I am even more certain I want this forever, want him to be mine and me to be his for as long as we both shall live.

    I start to move faster, my tongue tracing circles on the tip of his cock with even more intensity, which has him emitting such lustful sounds I never before heard him make. Sounds that I want to hear a hundred times more.

    “This is incredible, my love. You’re incredible.” Thomas’ voice is husky with desire and I have never before felt so powerful and wanted. The thought of having the power to elicit such pleasure from him causes an indescribable feeling in my body. I love feeling like this. Love the fact that my touch can make him completely lose grasp of rational thoughts and drive him over the edge. I feel like a goddess, like a queen.

    His hand caresses my hair with added intensity now, his moans louder and more frequent, interspacing all words when he speaks. “I am so close now, Audrey Rose”. There is no describing how much I adore hearing my name escape his lips as a moan. I keep up my pace, stroking and licking him, and notice he can barely hold himself together now. He comes with my name in his lips, the taste of his seed salty on my mouth.

     I move my gaze to his, wanting him to see me as I swallow, and the feeling of having him on my tongue is so intensely arousing, so much stronger than I could have anticipated, that I can’t help a smile coming to my lips. Thomas watches me intently, his gaze so intense I swear I can feel it inside me. The adoration and passion I can see in his eyes tell me that he finds the idea of me being aroused with the feeling and taste of him as alluring as I do. He moves his hands to my waist and gently lifts me up, settling me on his lap. I place one arm around his neck to keep me balanced, as he softly traces my cheeks with his fingers. We stay this way for a while, our breaths the only sound in the room as they start to return to a normal state. Thomas is the first to speak, his words whispered into my ear.

     “You are incredible, Wadsworth.” He spoke the next words accompanied by sweet kisses. “Stunning.” A kiss on my cheek. “Intelligent.” A kiss just below my ear. “Brilliant.” A kiss on my lips. “My love for you is so great I can’t ever hope to describe it. Every little part of you, body and mind, I love them all. To know that I will get to be with you every day, that you have chosen me, is the biggest happiness and the greatest honour.”

    His words make me walk among the stars, my heart soaring as high as them, feeling like it has been warmed by the sun. For the love I feel is just as intense as his, the honour and happiness of one day being his wife just as great. I smile as I make a declaration of my own. “You are incredible and I am the luckiest girl to have you for me. All of you,” I start, my tone teasing to bring some levity to this moment “not just your body, though it is definitely a sight to behold.” He gives a little smug smile, joining me in my little quip. “But you are also sweet, caring, kind and someone that I would trust with everything that I am, always. And I love you; I’ve chosen you to give myself to. Don’t ever forget that, Thomas.”

    I move my lips once more to his, kissing him intensely, fiercely, a kiss that contained all our love, all the stars, the immenseness of the universe and the promises our future together will bring. Thomas returns it just as strongly, but after a little while slowly breaks it and makes a move to get up from the bed. I know he needs to go, that all we have done is already utterly scandalous, that we’re not married yet and getting caught would result in an unspeakable scandal. But I don’t wish to let him go quite yet. I gently hold his hand in mine. “I think we can still risk you staying a while longer. Please.”              

    He looks at me with unguarded love and desire, and I know I have convinced him. “Wadsworth, you fiend. If we get caught, I am blaming you for corrupting my virtue. Though I must admit it is already not very pure to begin with.”

    I roll my eyes at him. “Just kiss me, Cresswell.”  

                                                              ****          

     I wake up with the morning light on my face, my legs all tangled in Thomas’, and his arms around me. My whole body is pleasantly sore, and this feeling reminds me of all that happened last night and makes a smile come to my lips. I move a little bit and Thomas stirs and pulls me closer, still half asleep. I am not completely awake myself, because me and Thomas hardly slept at all, but my brain registers that this moment is perfect, and I wish I could stay this way with him forever, that there were no rules that kept us from being able to be together before our marriage. There is something wrong with that sentence and this scenario that I struggle to grasp in my sleep addled brain. When I hear a knock on the door, the wrongness hits me in the head like a brick: We are not married. Thomas did not return to his chambers. If we get caught, my reputation is lost forever; the scandal could ruin our families. I immediately give Thomas a frantic shake, saying as quietly as I can so no one will overhear me “Wake up, Thomas!”

    He opens his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but I put my hand in his mouth, while putting a finger in mine to indicate he needs to be silent.

“Someone’s at the door.” I say, a little panicked. “We ended up falling asleep, and it’s already day. We need to find a way for you to return to your chambers unnoticed. But for now, you need to hide, so I can answer the door.” Thomas nods, still a little sleepy, puts his clothes on and moves under my bed, which indeed seems like the only plausible option for a place where he would not be seen. I get dressed as well and do my best to look presentable; checking that none of the love marks on my skin is showing and hoping my lips are not too swollen. Heart racing, I open the door.

    Liza and Daciana stand there, and the relief I feel almost makes me drop to my knees in thanks. They seem to notice my flustered behaviour, as Liza immediately says. “Good morning, dear cousin. Relieved to see it’s only us and not mother, are you not? Well, me and Miss Creswell came to make sure you will not miss your breakfast, didn’t we?” She gives a mirthful look to Daciana, who replies in a low tone that only we can hear. “That, and to keep my lovable idiot of a brother out of trouble once again.”

     Liza looks into my room “Will you please invite us in, Audrey Rose. It is not very becoming to stay standing outside your door, and we won’t be able to actually talk until we’re inside.”

    “You’re right Liza, I am sorry, please do come in. Both of you. I haven’t…” I feel a blush coming to my cheeks at what I will have to admit. “I haven’t slept much and I am afraid my brain is still not fully awake.”    

    Both girls come inside my room and I close the door behind us. I am mortified to have completely lost track of time and of consequences, but completely relieved we only got caught by Liza and Daciana and not by our other relatives.

     “Thomas, you can come out of wherever you are.” Daciana says, so nonchalantly it would seem like we are simply discussing ball gowns and tea delicacies. “I just hope by God that you’re decent; for I do not wish to see you in your undergarments, much less in fewer clothing than that.”

    “And seeing Mr. Creswell undressed may be a little too inappropriate even by my not very strict standards.” Liza chimes in. I blush redder than the curtains as Thomas comes out of under the bed, thankfully having fully dressed earlier.

    “Good morning, dear sister and dear future cousin.” Thomas says with a smirk and such confidence it would seem he does this every day. I guess it’s a family trait to keep their countenance even in completely inappropriate situations. “I trust you slept well? I had the most wonderful night, though I must confess it was a little lacking in actual sleeping.”

    “Thomas!” I give him a nudge on his arm and could swear this morning is probably trying to test what is the deepest shade of red my face can reach. “Can we please, please move out of discussing the events of yesterday evening?”

    “Alright dear cousin, If it will keep you from dying from being so flustered, I guess we can all agree to refrain from discussing yours and Mr. Creswell’s little night time escapade.” Liza gives me a little playful smile that tells me she will do anything but once we’re alone. “Now let’s get going, mother is becoming worried you haven’t yet called for your maid to get you dressed for breakfast. And we need to find a way to get Mr. Cresswell out of here before his disappearance is also noted.”

    “Worry not, Liza,” Daciana says while trading a conspiratorial glance with my cousin. I notice they are already on a first name basis and wonder how much these two have been talking. “The Creswell’s are expert on escaping getting caught doing what they shouldn’t. Although I must admit it seems too much love has addled your brain, Thomas.”

    “Stuff it, Daci.” Thomas playfully throws a pillow at his sister. “Hopelessly in love as I indeed am; my mind is still just as brilliant.”  

    “So brilliant you fell asleep instead of returning to your chambers. Come on, I brought you a change of clothing more appropriate for the morning and with the great advantage of not being the same ones you were wearing yesterday.” Only now do I notice she’s carrying a bag, which she hands over to Thomas”

     “You can get changed in my bathing chamber.” I motion in its general direction, still not quite managing to make eye contact with him for fear I will just completely turn the colour of a tomato. He quickly changes, and Daciana and Liza open the door and to check if the hallway is empty.

    Taking the opportunity of this small moment of privacy, I take his hand and place a sweet kiss on his cheek, speaking so low only he can hear. “I can’t wait for the day you no longer need to leave in the morning.” He smiles, as radiant as the sun, and places a kiss on my hand. “I will be longing for it just as eagerly. Last night was … incredible. You’re incredible, and I love you.”

    It takes no effort to return his smile just as intensely, because joy and anticipation are filling me in this moment. “And I love you, for all my life. See you at breakfast, Thomas.” With great difficulty, I let go of his hand.

    “See you at breakfast, Audrey Rose. Try not to miss me too terribly.”

    I roll my eyes at his comment. “I will do my best not to die from longing, Creswell.”

    “Okay lovebirds, there’s no one outside, and Thomas really must go now.” Daciana’s words seep into our little moment, and Thomas gives me one last look before coming out the door.

    As soon as they leave, Liza gives me a mischievous smile, and I just know I will not get away with going to breakfast before talking to her. She sits on the bed, giving little jumps of excitement and patting the mattress. “Now sit here and tell me cousin, was dashing Mr. Creswell as good with his tongue as he is with his deductions?”

                                                         *****

AFTER A MILLION YEARS, THIS IS FINISHED!!!

I am so very proud of this one. Also this is my first smut ever.

Thank you, @city-of-fae for that Thomas dialogue. And thank you, @amazingcressworthss for letting me borrow the idea of Thomas calling Audrey Rose “Beautiful, intelligent and brilliant”, because this is so perfectly him that I wanted so much to use.

I hope you enjoy it my lovely followers and friends!!

[hurt-care]

Some more historical hay-asthma fluff with my OC Francis and his lady, Caroline. Set in the late 1800s/turn of 1900s. If you haven’t met him before, you can read my prior fics about him here and here.

-

At long last, Francis had escaped the choking air of London and settled permanently as the owner of some lands near Plymouth with his new bride, Caroline. They'd been married only a few months, joined in matrimony at the local chapel in late October when Francis' health was at its strongest. They'd settled into a modest but elegant seaside cottage with six bedrooms for welcoming guests and an expansive plot of land around it providing privacy. Most of the time, the home was occupied by just the couple and a handful of staff who worked during the day and lived in much smaller homes down in the nearby village.

The staff always arrived early enough to have the morning coffee and breakfast before they rose at a leisurely hour and took their meal in the dining room. The winter by the ocean had been harshly cold but happy and quiet in the new estate. They'd welcomed Francis' cousin from Leeds for a week-long stay and had entertained a magistrate passing through on his way to France. Now, as the months turned towards spring, Caroline gently instructed the new staff about the precautions to take when it came to Francis' sensitive health. Though Plymouth generally provided relief from the majority of his symptoms, occasional turns of weather could bring about an attack of Francis' severe hay-asthma.

It was a beautiful early June day when Caroline rolled over in bed and reached an arm out for her husband, who lay still asleep. She pressed her lips to his shoulder in a kiss and he smiled faintly in his sleep.

“Francis,” she said softly.

“Mhm?” he murmured, waking to the sound of her voice.

“We're due at the Petersons this afternoon, love,” she said. “Better be up and dressed soon. Thomas says it's about a half hour drive.”

They'd been invited for tea at the estate a few kilometers away at Westhart Cliffs. The Petersons were another young couple and Caroline had been childhood friends with the wife, Lady Amelia. They'd moved to Westhart around the same time Francis and Caroline had taken up their own residence.

Dressed and ready with a gift of plum cake carefully packaged by their cook, the couple climbed into their motorcar and the valet, Sean, took off along the cliffside road.

It was an easy drive down to Westhart with rolling fields on one side and the sea on the other. When they slowed in the approach to the house, Caroline took Francis' hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Ready?” she asked, smiling at him. He had a tendency to be a little shy around those he did not know well.

“Of course,” he said, smiling back at her. “It's tea and conversation and then back home before we know it.”

“That's the spirit!” she teased, clapping him on the leg.

“No, in all honesty I'm quite looking forward to seeing the place. I've driven by before but never been inside.”

They peered out of the motorcar's window as they creaked to a halt out front of the imposing manor's front door. A butler appeared to greet them as Sean put the car in park and came around to open the door.

“Mr. And Mrs. Miller,” the butler said, bowing slightly. “Welcome to Westhart. Lord and Lady Peterson will receive you in the atrium.”

Francis raised an eyebrow as he looked at Caroline.

“That will be lovely, thank you,” Caroline replied, smirking back at her husband as she read his thoughts. An atrium was certainly a divinely decadent addition to a manor home.

They followed the butler through the long, impressive entryway and down a hallway out into an airy room with large glass windows along the far side. Above, a portion of the ceiling was an impressive peak of glass panes that filtered light into the room. A small tea table was set in the centre and nearby stood Lord and Lady Peterson, dressed elegantly in white and linen for summer. Around the room arched large ferns and exotic palms with their leaves stretched towards the sunny windows.

“Thank you for having us, sir,” Francis said in greeting, extending his hand to Lord Peterson as Caroline and Amelia embraced nearby. He turned his attention to Lady Peterson and gave a small bow. “And Lady Peterson, I've heard so much about you from Caroline.”

“Call me Amelia, please,” she said with a cheerful laugh. “I hope she's told you only the flattering things.”

Caroline laughed and gripped Francis' arm affectionately.

“Of course, Amelia.”

“And I've heard much about you, Francis,” Amelia said. “Congratulations on your wedding. I'm so sorry we were out of the country during the festivities.”

“Yes, an odd time of year for a wedding,” Lord Peterson said.

“We love autumn,” Caroline said confidently as Francis stood feeling awkward at her side. The real reason, of course, had been to avoid him being unwell during a spring or summer wedding, but they had not widely publicized that fact.

“I'm sure it was divine,” Amelia chirped. “Should we sit for tea? I'll ring for the service.”

She tugged on a nearby sash to summon the servants and they all took seats around the table.

“Mrs. Miller had told us you ran a successful venture in London, Mr. Miller,” Lord Peterson said conversationally as a maid wheeled in a tea cart laden with goodies and the tea set.

Francis cleared his throat and gave a small rub to his left eye.

“Ah, yes, I did,” he replied. “It was my father's business and I took over when he passed. However, I much prefer the climate of Plymouth and when I asked Caroline to marry me, it was with the understanding that I'd sell that venture. So I've closed up shop there permanently and I've taken on some smaller private clients here and by correspondence. Come winter, I may spend some time in London but only as business requires.”

“Quite right,” Lord Peterson said as the maid began to pour tea into fine china cups. “I myself had some dealings in London but I agree that Plymouth is a much finer place to have a home. We hope to start a family of our own here.”

At his side, Amelia blushed and smiled with a knowing look at Caroline.

“We are quite enjoying our new home down the way,” Caroline chimed in. “I've been busy selecting new curtains for the bedrooms and we're having an heirloom piece sent up from my mother and father's home next week; a lovely mahogany wardrobe that belonged to my grandfather.”

Heh-TSCHPMF!

Francis turned away from the tea table suddenly, shuddering with an explosive sneeze. The Petersons jumped at the unexpected sound and next to him, Caroline bit her lip worryingly.

“Bless you, Mr. Miller!” Lord Peterson said.

Eh-TSGH!

“Goodness, I hope you're not ill!” Amelia chimed in.

Francis flushed with a familiar embarrassment at the situation.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, reaching for his trusty handkerchief and dabbing his nose politely. “No, I'm quite well.”

“These tea cakes look delicious, Amelia,” Caroline remarked, reaching for one the petit-fours from the centre serving tray.

“Our Mary does such a nice job with pastries,” Amelia replied proudly. “This plum cake you brought is also divine. You'll have to have your girl send over the recipe.”

“How are you finding the village, Mr. Miller?” Lord Peterson asked.

“You may call me Francis,” Francis replied softly, tucking his handkerchief away. “I'm finding the people very agreeable, sir. We're due to collect rents next month so I imagine I'll get to know a good deal more of the people but the ones we've had dealings with are very kind.”

He cleared his throat softly and reached to take a sip of his tea.

“We've taken on two lads and two girls from the village in service along with a cook and a valet,” he added. “They've all proved to be good workers so- heh---so...heh-TSGH!”

He turned away to smother another sneeze into his cupped hands.

“Oh do excuse me,” he murmured, blushing again. Under the table, Caroline gave his leg a comforting squeeze as she looked around at the exotic plants and wondered if they were proving irritating to Francis' delicate system.

Lord Peterson did not acknowledge this sneeze but instead nodded approvingly.

“That's good to hear. We have a few lads here from our local village that have also proved very helpful.”

“But our Mary is actually the daughter of our old cook Margaret, from back at my family home,” Caroline chimed in.

Hurh-TSGHHT!

Francis turned away again, convulsing with yet another sneeze. He stayed leaning away from the tea table, hands still poised over his mouth and nose. The reason quickly became evident as he launched into a ticklish fit of sneezes that shook him violently with each wrenching outburst.

Hurhh-TSGHT! Ngh-GSHT! Tsh-GHT! 'GHT! Ehh-heh-GHTTT!

He pushed back his chair, standing and stumbling away from the table with his handkerchief to his nose

“My apologi—ehh-GHHTT!”he choked out between sneezes.

“Bless you! My goodness!” Amelia said breathlessly, astonished at the spectacle.

“Are you sure you're quite alright?” Lord Peterson asked, concerned.

Francis' eyes were now red and swollen and streaming with tears as he sneezed several more times in rapid succession.

Ngh-GHXHT! Heh-tshCHTT! Heh-TSCHT! Tsh-GHT!

Caroline stood and went to his side, putting a steadying hand on his back.

“It's the plants?” she asked softly. “Should I make our excuses.”

“Please,” rasped Francis miserably, snot flooding from his nose. He dabbed it with the handkerchief and then covered it again to catch another ticklish sneeze.

Heh-TSCHXHTT!

“Go wait in the hall,” she said quietly into his ear. “I'll say our goodbyes and have them get Sean to bring the car back around.”

Francis rushed for the door, the sound of sneezing echoing in the hall as he left.

“I'm so very sorry,” Caroline said, turning back to their hosts. “I neglected to tell you the severity of dear Francis' condition. He suffers so terribly from hay-asthma and rose-cold and we can never be certain when he's going to have a bad turn this time of year. He finds relief here in Plymouth but sometimes he still suffers spells. I think maybe your exotic foliage did not agree with him.”

“Oh no!” Amelia cried. “We can have the servants move the tea service into the parlour.”

“I'm afraid now that he's having an attack, it'll be a day before he can fully recover. It's best if we return home for him to rest and take his treatments.”

“I wish we'd known,” Lord Peterson said. “Poor chap.”

“He's so terribly embarrassed by it,” Caroline explained. “If you could be so dear as to have our car brought around, I know he'll want to go at once. It makes such a mess of him, he can't bear to have others see.”

“Absolutely,” Lord Peterson replied, heading off to ring for a butler. “Please offer my apologies to your husband. We would not have chosen this room for tea had we known.”

“It's a lovely room,” Caroline said. “I would have chosen it too. Some plants have no effect on him at all, so we never can tell.”

“I do hope he doesn't suffer greatly,” Amelia said sweetly. “He looked dreadful.”

“It is a rather uncomfortable affliction,” Caroline agreed. “He can scarcely get his breath between all the sneezing sometimes.”

“You are a saint for seeing to him,” Amelia said.

Caroline blushed.

“No, not at all. Though I do feel so terribly bad he suffers so much. That's why we chose to marry in the fall, because this season can be so unpredictable for his health.”

“The car should be coming around shortly,” Lord Peterson said, returning from a conversation with his butler. “Can we see you out?”

“I think Francis would prefer a quiet escape, if you don't mind,” Caroline said.

“Of course,” Amelia replied. “Please, send him our good wishes and we'll have you back for tea in the parlour another time.”

She kissed Caroline on the cheek and Lord Peterson gave a bow and kissed Caroline's hand.

With the farewells said, Caroline rushed to the hall to find Francis leaning heavily against a wall with his handkerchief under his dripping nose. His eyes were swollen and puffy.

“Oh love,” she said softly. “I'm sorry. I had no idea. I've made our excuses and Sean should be out front.”

He nodded wearily and followed her out to the front foyer. Outside, Sean was waiting with the car running and he opened the door for them to climb in. Francis sunk down into the seat with a sigh and gave his nose a short, damp blow.

“Okay, home,” Caroline soothed, settling next to him.

Eh-SGHHT!

Francis shuddered with another wrenching sneeze and then took a shaky, wheezy breath.

“How's your chest?” Caroline asked.

Hurh-TSGHH!Tsh-GHT!

Once he was able to speak, Francis shook his head and sniffled thickly.

“It's okay,” he rasped. “A little tight.”

“Okay, just try to get little breaths,” she coached. “How can I help?”

“You don't happen to have a handkerchief?” he asked. His was nearly completely sodden.

Caroline reached for her own from its usual place tucked into her dress and came to the terrible realization that she'd neglected to bring it.

“I'm so sorry, sweet,” she said.

“It's okay,” Francis croaked, pressing the damp one to his nose again. His poor nostrils were getting red and raw from the moisture.

“Do you want to try to rest?” she asked. “You can lean against me.”

“Maybe,” he said wearily, clearly exhausted from the attack. He let his head rest back against her, closing his eyes. She stroked his hair back from his face and thumbed away a few stray tears from around his swollen eyes. He snorted thickly and coughed a few times, now getting so congested he could barely get a breath through his nose. He leaned forward once more, sneezing thickly.

Hurh-TSGHHHT! Heh-TSCHMFFF!

Caroline felt her stomach pang in sympathy and she rubbed his back as he blew his nose futilely.

But the time they reached their home, he was so congested and swollen and miserable that she had to lead him inside because he was nearly blind with allergic tears. They'd given the staff the day off since they'd planned to be out all afternoon, but now Caroline was alone save for Sean who had gone to put the car away. He'd offered to send for the doctor, but that wasn't yet necessary.

She got Francis up to their bedroom and seated in an armchair with a fresh handkerchief from his wardrobe at hand. He coughed ticklishly and she put a hand to his chest, feeling for the wheeze. For now, it was light.

“Better get your inhaler,” she said softly. He nodded, knowing that the asthma would get worse later in the evening as it always did. “I'll get some water for your face too.”

He nodded again, wiping his dripping nose with the new dry handkerchief and triggering more wrenching sneezes.

Hruh-TSGCHMFFF! Ngh'TSGHHH!

Caroline kissed the top of his head and went to the kitchen, setting a pot of water to boil for the inhaler and gathering a basin of warm water with some cloths for Francis' swollen eyes. With everything balanced on a tray, she went back upstairs to find him slumped wearily in the chair, audibly wheezing.

“It's okay,” she soothed as he coughed and clutched at his chest in discomfort. “Here we are.”

She poured a mixture of medication into the steaming water in the ceramic bulb and held it out for him to inhale. He took a long, slow puff and struggled to keep the vapour in his lungs. Finally, he gave into coughing and she rubbed his back, whispering soft reassurances. He was sweaty-faced and spent, unable to find any comfort. When he finally stopped coughing, he leaned into her touch and sighed.

“You don't deserve this,” he rasped.

“I love you,” she said, kissing his brow. “Every bit of you. Now, quiet. We need to get you well again.”

She sponged his swollen, itchy eyes with a rag dipped in warm water and then gave him a mixture of quinine to snort. He tried futilely to inhale it but he was too congested to get much into his sinuses. Wrinkling his nose, he sneezed into the handkerchief and gave his tender nostrils another careful wipe.

Heh'TSCHFFT!

He was so weary that his eyes were fluttering shut but he could not get comfortable enough to sleep. He stood, pacing the room as he coughed occasionally, bracing himself against his chair or the bed or the wardrobe. Caroline hovered nearby, feeling utterly useless.

“Do you want to try to sit a little?” she asked as he tended to his nose with his handkerchief again.

“It's easier,” he rasped. “Breathing....if I stand....but I'm so tired.”

“I know, love,” she soothed. “Come here.” s

As he passed her in his fevered pacing, she wrapped her arms around him, letting him put his weight into her, and held him as he let his head hang over her shoulder. He coughed miserably and she felt him shuddering in her arms, but she held tight, rocking gently back and forth. He wheezed a sigh and tried to pull away, but she held on.

“Caroline,” he gasped.

“It's fine. Rest.”

Heh-tGXHT!

He stifled a sneeze against her shoulder.

“Caroline....” he said again with more urgency.

“I don't mind,” she whispered, stroking his back. His chest expanded and he pitched into her with another sneeze.

Heh-SGHHHT!

“I need to....the chair,” he wheezed. She guided him over to it and he gripped the top, leaning over the high wingback and bracing against it as he coughed again. She rubbed his back more, leaning her cheek against his ribs and hearing the whistle of wheezing.

She held up the inhaler and he took another puff of the steam. The coughing eased a little and he paused to give his nose a blow, wincing as he did. His nose was glowing red and raw now, completely irritated and tender from all the moisture and wiping.

“Should we see if you can get a little sleep?” she asked gently. “I can get your pyjamas.”

He shrugged.

“Yes, maybe,” he said quietly. “I am breathing a little easier.”

She retrieved a set of his pyjamas from the wardrobe and helped him out of his trousers and shirt into the soft linen bottoms and matching top.

“There,” she said, buttoning the last button on the pyjama top. “One more treatment and then you can rest.”

He took another puff from the ceramic inhaler and then followed her sleepily towards the bed. He sat down on the edge and watched her through swollen, half-closed eyes as she tugged off her dress and he reached to help loosen her corset so she could remove it. When she was just in her bloomers and shift, she climbed into bed and reclined against the headboard, guiding Francis to lay against her chest propped up. He closed his eyes and settled into her embrace, breathing noisily but clearer than before. Soon he was asleep, snoring softly, completely exhausted from the attack. She closed her own eyes, comforted by the weight of him against her and the knowledge that she'd be close at hand if he woke with another flare of asthma in the night as he often did.

Thankfully, he slept soundly and when he did wake, it was to nothing more than some slight irritation around his nose and some residual itching in his throat. They settled down in the bed, reclining further, and fell back into a peaceful sleep once again.

[storytimewithcort]

Skyrim Drabbles (Farkas) (Part 1)

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim 

Basic Summary: Short blurbs from various points in my Dragonborn's life in Whiterun.

Warning: violence a bit

A/n: When playing, I travel with Aela, Barbas and Meeko. Because sexy badass ladies and puppies, obviously. However, I married Farkas, because he's a sweet big 'ol puppy dog...wolf...man. I adore him. So here's an fictionalized story about my player/oc interacting with Farkas. Mostly his point of view. 🧡

Part 1 of 2

--------

Aela shouted as she released an arrow in the direction of the beast charging towards Farkas. He steadied his stance as the troll came barreling in his direction and the arrow slammed into its shoulder. Farkas could see the blood flowing from the wound, but the troll seemed unaffected from the injury. He glanced over to Ria as she pulled out her sword, Farkas followed suit, his greatsword slightly shining in the dull light of the gray afternoon.

Moments before the troll reached melee range a dual-pronged arrow came flying through the sky striking the troll in the side of the neck. The troll cried out, stumbling down onto one knee. He heard Ria charge the beast as soon as it fell, but he instead tried to see where the new arrow came from. Across the field he spotted someone on a horse. They were in full armor so he couldn’t see much of their face, but it seemed they were taller than he was and they had their sights locked on the troll as they docked their bow to shoot another arrow at it. This one hit at the same time as another one of Aela’s arrows and the dual impact felled the beast almost instantly. Ria quickly made a gash across his chest to ensure the kill.

The helpful warrior trotted their horse up to the troll and hopped off next to Aela.

“You're a good shot!” Aela boasted, always pleased to meet someone who shared her affinity with a bow.

“Thank you. Just luck really, I'm still getting used to using a bow.” They responded, surprisingly soft spoken. They slipped off their helmet and spoke again, their back to Farkas, “I hope I wasn't intruding, I just couldn't let that brute run rampant so close to a family farm.”

He hadn't been caught off guard like this in years, Farkas had expected a burly Nord not too different from himself, but when the archer turned his way they, she, was anything but. Her high cheekbones implied elven heritage. Her light eyes in contrast to her deep woodsy colored hair were bewitching. Her hair looked like it was once painstakingly braided into a beautiful and intricate design,  but days of traveling and helmet wearing had made strands poke out all over and a long chunk of dark mahogany fell in front of her left ear.

“Shit” he muttered bewildered as he vaguely heard Aela invite the woman to Jorrvaskr.

----

Another gray day stretched out over the Gildergreen tree beneath the stairs leading up to Jorrvaskr. Farkas stood atop the hill watching down on the few townspeople mill about and a couple young girls looking for coin. He wasn't too focused on anything in particular until a sight caught him by surprise. Under the tree was the Dragonborn, a fighter who just yesterday he watched sparing with Vilkas and Aela with a ferocity that he hasn't seen in anyone without wolf's blood.

She,Téli, had been spending a lot of time at Jorrvaskr the last few days since she came to Whiterun. After she met the few Companions and helped fall a troll last week with ease, she had been coming by to both train and do any little errand the Circle requested from her. She did every task no matter how small or opposingly violent with no question. And she did them well. There were even rumors that said she could take down an actual dragon single handedly. She was obviously a mighty warrior.

Here she was squatting down to an orphan child with a soft smile across her face. The little girl looked enamored as she listened to whatever story Téli was telling. Her eyes looked so peaceful and kind as she reached into her pack and pulled out a few gold pieces, not copper, gold pieces and handed them to the child. She also handed over a netted bag full of apples and yams to the girl with a little laugh as the girl squealed in appreciation. The sound somehow floated across the courtyard all the way to where Farkas stood and he was floored by the sweetness of the sound. He had never really thought about how nice laughter could sound, but he quickly decided laughter could sound beautiful if coming from the right person.

"What are you looking at?" Vilkas' voice sounded, breaking Farkas from whatever weird draw the warrior down below had on him. Vilkas' matching dark hair to Farkas' own blew in the damp breeze.

"The tree." Farkas answered. Only a partial lie.

Vilkas looked down to the tree and cocked his head to the side. "Aye, it is looking much better these days. Whatever magic the Dragonborn achieved is a blessing to Whiterun." Taking step closer to his brother, "What do you think of the Dragonborn? I'm still not convinced we can trust her to be a Companion."

Fumbling over his words at first, Farkas managed to respond. "I..I think she is strong and....soft."

"Soft!?" Vilkas spit out the word with confusion until his gaze caught said person patting the head of a girl by the tree, with an almost maternal look in her eyes. She then picked up their pack and smiled as she made her way up the stairs leading to Jorrvaskr. Looking back to his brother, Vilkas saw the lopsided smile Farkas typically saved for a particularly delicious meal or newly tempered set of armor.  Vilkas let out a tuft of laughter, "You like her!"

"Quiet!" Farkas hissed as Téli reached hearing range of the twins.

"Good day." She greeted, smile still intact.

----

Farkas couldn't understand why she was so enthusiastic today. It was pouring rain and the whole city seemed to be in a somber mood. Every one except Téli. She showed up at Jorrvaskr early in the day, begging Farkas to follow her. He couldn't say ‘no’ to her, he was too caught up in how pleasing she looked. This was the first time he had seen her without armor. She was indeed of elven descent, tall and willowy, despite her obvious arm muscles that came from wielding her large steel warhammer. Her simple gray and blue dress was perfectly tailored for her, and as much as Farkas liked a solid woman who stood strong in armor, he couldn't help but flush at the sight of her gentle yet supple curves. Her hair looked recently washed or at the very least combed out. Every part of her looked as soft as he thought it would.

She now pulled on his arm as she dragged him down the steps leading toward the main gated entrance to Whiterun. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pointed to the left where a row of houses stood.

“There it is!” she exclaimed with glee.

“There's what?” he asked, looking between the buildings around.

“This house!” she clarified, letting go of him to  running up to one of the houses. “This one right here is all mine.” Pulling out a key with a flourish before turning to open the door. She runs inside and disappeared, leaving Farkas to follow behind shaking his head in amusement.

She showed off the mostly empty building like it was a castle made of gems and gold. She explained how as much as she enjoyed doing jobs for the Companions, doing jobs for the Jarl paid better. It also opened up real estate opportunities.

“I moved in last night! I finally got to bathe without worrying about who else in the inn might try to steal a peak. I got to sleep in a decent bed, and I actually cooked breakfast today. It's silly and domestic, but I love it.” Téli said happily.

“Does this mean you are hanging your armor up? Going to be a city girl now?” Farkas laughed.

“Heavens no. It's just nice to have somewhere to come home to after diving into caverns or fighting dragons.” She walked over to a little fire place, striking up a little fire to warm the house. “I've spent enough time in Whiterun this past month, I know it's a nice place to come home to.”

Farkas took the seat next to her, pulling himself close to the newly growing warmth the fire could offer his damp clothes. He watched her as she added some wood to her little fire. Her clothes were now also pretty wet, but she didn't seem to notice how they clung or maybe she just didn't care. Vilkas had pointed out to him a few days ago how comfortable Téli acted around him and he still didn't know how to take the news.

“Why are you showing me your house?” He asked when she glanced his way.

“Because I'm excited.”

“But why me?”

“I..” she started before chewing her bottom lip for a moment in thought. “Well, you've always been nice to me. You trust in my skills. You are far more clever than you think you are. And you don't ever act like I'm harassing you by just being around, which honestly is how a lot of people seem to act around me.” She shrugged, “Mostly, I just like spending time with you. I know this isn't as exciting as slashing draugrs...” She trailed off, but it didn't matter, Farkas was through the roof with joy. He couldn't remember the last time someone had so many kind things to say about him. It was also the first time he felt this enamored with someone outside of his family and the Circle.

He was smitten. Vilkas would never let him live this down.

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Part 2 coming soon. Thanks folks!