#and in return God did very little to alleviate his fears and troubles

[canisalbus]

forgive me if this has been answered previously, but what were the circumstances around vasco finding out about machete's death? i'm heartbroken but fascinated to think about what his immediate reaction could have been

They don't live together, Vasco was at home in Florence at the time. Either someone who knew of their relationship managed to alert him of the murder, or he showed up in Rome to visit him just like countless of times before, and one time he was just gone. He would've missed the funeral for sure, and since Machete doesn't have family, his belongings would most likely end up escheated and subsequently liguidated by the church. He certainly wasn't remembed fondly, for the most part it was like he had never been there in the first place.

I don't want to get into the details but of course he was devastated. The threat of death was a constant presence in Machete's later years, he survived at least a couple of assassination attempts and his health kept getting worse. I think he tried to keep Vasco in the dark about how bad things were exactly, but Vasco didn't miss how his fear of death ramped up in intensity towards the end. So it wasn't a complete surprise when he found out they had finally gotten him. For a long time he had hard time not blaming himself for it, thinking whether he could've done something to prevent the outcome, whether his presence would've changed how things played out. Over the years he learned to live with the sudden and violent end of their relationship, but the first few years were extremely rough, the whole ordeal broke him in unprecedented ways and he never fully recovered to his previous state.

[wovenwaves]

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Maris was tired of being sick, though she dared not voice that aloud. There was little to be done about the nethicite poisoning, other than treat various symptoms and pray she would not worsen. The only... fortunate thing (if she could call it that) was that, all things considered, her poisoning was not severe. It was not like it had been for her dear cousin. It was not like it was for many others.

But there were days it would take hold. Days were she would be forced to remain in the care of doctors and healers to alleviate her symptoms until the worst came to pass. Until she was stable enough to return to her own quarters and rest. It had been no different, this time around, and although they had offered her to stay another night, she wanted nothing more than to be in her own bed. It mattered little that it was late. As grateful as she was for the doctors who treated her, she was rather weary of their care.

Quickly, however, she came to regret her decision when she saw a certain Knight along his patrol. Too late, did she see Vossler, and before Maris could turn and retreat back to the safety of the medical wing, he spotted her, and her heart sank. Her jaw tense as she narrowed her eyes, and said nothing in greeting. She cared little for formalities with him - not with the predatory gleam in his eyes, and not with the disrespect he showed to everyone he considered beneath him. Women, the poor - even his own soldiers and fellow Knights. No, he showed no respect, and she would show none in kind.

But, try as she might to remain in the middle of the hall, to avoid being blocked, she was still unwell and far from the soldier Vossler was. She was forced against the wall with little room between, and before she could begin to yell at him to back off, another voice interrupted, and the relief she felt could have brought her to her knees.

Maris wasted no time in moving the moment Soryn pushed himself between her and Vossler, and stood behind the Knight that had come to her rescue. Her heart hammering almost painfully in her chest as her hands shook - from fear, from exhaustion, she wasn't sure - and came to stand to his other side, though still kept behind. Just enough for her to run if needed, but when Vossler tried to defend himself and said they were merely talking--

Oh, the outrage that welled in her chest was almost enough to make her snap, but Maris held her tongue - her fury flashing across her face, and drowning out her exhaustion.

Gods be willing, Basch was going to hear of this in the morn.

Yet, even with her anger, she could not shake how terrified she was, and it only seemed to fill her as Vossler challenged Soryn before storming away. Her heart in her throat - her stomach in knots. She could not win against him, she knew, and-- Oh, gods, she didn't want to think about what he would have done if Soryn had not come to her defense. Just the very brush of such a thought made her feel ill.

Although shaken to her core with anger that did little to serve her well, Maris drew in a shaky breath, and did her best to pull herself together. To hold her arms close to herself in an attempt to hide how her hands still shook. "Thank you, Ser Vedrai," she whispered - her voice almost failing her. Unwilling to answer the question her body answered far too clearly. "He is-- No, his behavior is not your doing." Soryn's apology was not one she wanted to hear. Nor her cousin's, for that matter, but the apology she wanted was from one she knew would not give it. "Would you--"

She paused, and drew in another breath to steady herself, and wondered if it would be best to return to her quarters or to the medical wing. Was it the poisoning that made her feel ill? Or just how rattled she was from the experience? "Would it be trouble to ask for an escort to my quarters? I-- I do not feel..." I do not feel safe, she wanted to say, but was unable to spit out the words. "I do not wish to encounter him alone again."

[incendiobrock]

The Witches Forest

Request: heyy idk if u do requests but if u aree then can you do one where the reader is a witch and is dating colby so she goes on one of the haunted trips w them and does some reading idkk you can end it however you like <33 tyy! 

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I loosely based this imagine off the witches forest video on the Sam and Colby channel but instead of the witch from the video giving the reading it was y/n, and instead of Colby getting lost in the forest it was y/n. Hope you enjoy! Also this was loosely inspired by an imagine I read by @annab-nana you can read it here!

Warnings: sexual joke (I think that’s it)

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It was a typical day with the trap boys. Your boyfriend Colby had finally convinced you to go on a haunted trip with them. The only reason you had agreed was because he had promised you, and Corey, that there wouldn’t be any seances. You would all be going to just spend the night there, not summon anything.

In fact, Sam was planning on doing a cleansing ritual that he had done some research on. So, you agreed. You were always super worried about the boys and the trouble that they would find themselves in, especially with demonic entities and spirits. 

One of the other reasons you had agreed to do the video with them was because you knew that the fans have been begging for you to make an appearance. Colby got tweets and comments daily about his “witchy girlfriend” joining in on a haunted overnight video. All the fans knew that you were super into crystals, and tarot cards, and different herbs, and just about anything that you believed would help protect you and connect you to the world of spirituality.

So here you were, sitting in front of the camera, Colby right by your side, his ring clad hand holding onto your thigh, as the rest of the guys surrounded the table. “Okay, who’s ready for the reading?” You questioned, looking around the table. Everyone nodded and agreed to begin. You passed the tarot deck to each of the boys, instructing them to shuffle the deck while thinking of their intention for the trip to The Witches Forest. Everyone did as told and passed the deck back to you, you were the last to shuffle.

“Alright, so I’m going to pick the top three cards and then we can go over what they each mean for us, and for the trip we are about to go on.” You stated, gently flipping over the top three cards, The Tower, The Nine of Swords, and the card of Death.

You felt the room tense as they all read the cards chosen. “It’s not bad.” You said, trying to calm everyone’s nerves. “Uh- I don’t know about you but a card that says death seems pretty bad to me.” Corey said, laughing out of fear.

“Yeah babe, what does that mean besides ‘we are going to die?’” Colby air quoted the last part. “Will you guys just give me a minute to explain it?” You laughed at your boyfriends face as his eyebrows remained scrunched on his forehead, looking desperately at you for answers. You went on to explain that death could signify the “death” of an era and the beginning of something new. The Nine of Swords means that their own thoughts can weigh them down, or cause a feeling of darkness, and The Tower means danger, chaos, but also liberation. 

“See, so nothing is necessarily bad. It actually seems like this might be good for you guys, especially since we are planning on doing the fire ritual too. That way you can begin a new journey and have a nice cleansed path before the next moon cycle begins.” You stated, leaning your head on Colby’s shoulder and cuddling into his side. He placed a short kiss onto your forehead taking hold of your hand, “Alright so let’s get on the road we don’t want it to get too dark before we set up the tent, plus it’s about an hour drive.” Colby said to the group, still holding your hand as you both stood up to go get into the car.

About an hour later you had all arrived at the forest. Colby had parked the car a little off the dirt path in a small clearing between the trees. You were happy to get out of the car to stretch after having to sit between Jake and Corey in the backseat. You brought along a small backpack of stuff like a water, first aid kit, a flashlight, and most importantly some crystals that offer protection. You took out the small ziploc with the crystal and began to give one to each of the boys, telling them to keep their crystal in their pockets for protection. 

Sam had asked you to explain to the camera what all you had brought so you showed him the black tourmaline, amethyst, and the obsidian, saying that they each offered protection and grounding properties. “Alright, now that we got our protection rocks let’s go pitch the tent we will be staying in all night.” Sam said, shutting off the camera. You all stood around trying to help as Colby did most of the work putting the tent together. You were impressed with his skills, never knowing that he could set up a tent with little to no instruction.

“Dang brother, those Cub Scout skills are really showing right now.” Jake joked, sticking the last spoke into the dirt. “Thanks brother, you know I’m skilled with these hands.” Colby responded, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as a small laugh escaped from your mouth. Leave it to Colby to make a sexual joke that makes the guys cringe. 

After a little exploring all together, and almost losing the location of the tent, you had all decided it was time to start the fire ritual. You were glued closely to Colby’s side, hearing a lot of motion within the trees. “Once we get the fire going maybe we will feel better, the light and heat should scare off any animals that are near.” Sam said grabbing the fire bucket that he had brought for this ritual.

Colby lit the fire and you all sat around in camping chairs. “We should’ve brought s’mores bro.” Corey said, trying to alleviate some of his fear. You agreed with him because you knew you felt the same fear as him at the moment. Sam explained what was going to happen with the fire ritual and passed out the objects that everyone was going to be throwing into the fire, in hopes to release any possible spirits that were attached to them. As soon as you guys started to watch the stuff burn Colby flew back, falling with his camping chair.

“Did you guys see that! Right there! Right behind Jake! Sam? Did you see it, it was like a shadow and it moved super fast right behind Jake’s head.” Colby yelled, standing quickly off the ground and shining a flashlight in that direction. “I saw that too!” You said, abandoning your camping chair as well. Colby took hold of the camera and began walking away from the fire and towards the trail. “Colby! Wait for us bro you can’t go alone!” Sam yelled out, chasing after him. “I have to go, I know I saw something I need to see where it’s going before it gets away, I wanna capture it on camera!” Colby said.

“Someone has to stay by the fire we can’t all leave! Jake you stay here with Corey and we will go investigate.” Sam instructed, but Jake hesitated wanting to go too. Corey ended up agreeing on staying by the fire so you three could keep up with Colby who was still walking quickly away from the group. You thanked Corey, worried that your boyfriend would get too far ahead of everyone. You began to jog to the path, already extremely behind the others because of the sudden panic. 

You turned onto the dirt path and didn’t see any of the three boys, but could barely make out their voices in the distance. You began to jog down the path, heading to the left. You had felt like you were getting closer to them but their voices still remained faint and incoherent. You knew that Sam had yelled for everyone to stay on the path in order to avoid getting lost so you kept jogging further and further into the forest, away from the fire where Corey sat.

You slowed to a walk, shining your flashlight all around, hearing tons of branches snapping and rustling. You suddenly felt very alert, almost as if something was watching you. You felt the panic really set in as it became harder and harder for you to catch your breath. “Colby!” You yelled. “Colby! Sam! Jake! Corey!”  You knew you had made a mistake going this far down the path. “Hello?! Can anyone hear me!” You heard a scream off in the distance making your eyes basically bulge out of your head. You turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, shining your flashlight out in front of your face. Your hands were trembling, shaking the light violently. Not only was it freezing out, but you were terrified of what was out there.

You began running back the opposite direction of the trail, your breath almost nonexistent at this point, but you were determined to make it back to the tent. You heaved, feet stomping away at the dirt path beneath. After what felt like a century, you saw the distant glow of the fire. You ran, the victory of reuniting with the boys fueling your return. The fire was now in clear sight as well as the figures of the four boys you were so anxious to see. The noise of you approaching causing them all to turn and look at you. 

You practically leapt into Colby’s arms, tears pouring down your face as you wrapped tightly around his torso. His hand found its way straight to your hair, pulling you as close as he could to his body, swaying you side to side. “Oh my god, baby. Where were you? I was so worried! I thought I had lost you.” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair trying to soothe your crying. “I-I was running after you a-and then I got lost. I heard a s-scream, I’m so scared.” You sobbed, never wanting Colby to let go of you.

“We looked all over, we were calling your name like crazy but Jake said we should come and wait by the fire incase you came back. We didn’t want to keep moving further away from you on accident.” Sam said, standing closely near you and Colby. 

“Can we please go? I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” You pleaded, looking into Colby’s eyes as his delicate fingers helped to wipe away your tears. “Yes, of course. I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s head to the back up plan, the cabin.” Colby said, directing the last sentence to the boys. You nodded gratefully, making your way into Colby’s car while Jake, Corey, and Sam packed up the mess. 

The night was getting foggier as you pulled into the driveway of Jenna’s cabin. You felt relief rush over you, knowing that you wouldn’t have to spend another second in the Witches Forest. You all got out of the car and huddled by the front door, rain beginning to pour down. Sam took off his backpack digging through it to find the spare key Jenna had lent him. “Uh, Colby did I give you the key earlier?” Sam asked. Colby let go of your hand and patted his pockets down, “No I don’t think I have it. Is it in your pockets?” He responded, recapturing your hand in his, knowing that you were still shaken up about getting lost. Sam flipped his jean pockets inside out, no key to be found. He began pulling everything out of his backpack, searching deep into the bag for the key.

“Let’s go back into the car maybe I left it in there.” Sam said, heading straight back to Colby’s car. You all got back in as the rain continued to pour, Sam searching every inch of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you lost the key Sam, first Y/n goes missing and now this?” Jake says from the backseat, obviously frustrated. “It’s not all my fault okay? You think I meant to lose the key?” Sam snapped back, the tension in the car rising. 

After a lot of searching, the key was no where to be found. Much to your dismay, you had to go back to the tent in the depths of the forest. You all huddle into the blue tent, slipping into your sleeping bags. It was only a few more hours until daylight, a few more hours before the suffering would end.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I lost you once tonight and it was the scariest moment of my life. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” Colby vowed, pulling you into his chest. You smiled at his kind words, despite how scared you were he always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thank you Colby, I love you so much.” You responded, nuzzling further into his chest. “I love you, to new beginnings.” He chuckled, referencing the tarot reading from earlier. “To new beginnings.” You agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss on the lips.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 12

chapter index

damn near almost forgot it was Friday... anyway, this one's a little shorter, but necessarily so. I hope you enjoy it, nevertheless! <3

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Kagome was in a grouchy mood from the rude awakening she’d received early that morning. She wasn’t outwardly expressing herself, but it was a little too difficult to wipe it clean from her face. And, Shinosuke was too amused by it.

It was a young lady who’d woken she and Inuyasha up, and immediately Kagome knew she was there to change Inuyasha’s bandages. When Kagome had first arrived the night before, a small stain was noticeable, but as she sat up from Inuyasha’s side, the front of his bandages were completely soddened with his blood. He was weak and fatigued, eyes opened from his own awakening but irises dull, and didn’t even have enough energy to really grasp her hand anymore. His breathing was shallow, but he tried to narrow a brave look at her. Still, she froze with fear.

The woman, Wakana, wouldn’t allow Kagome to help and insisted she leave. Though Kagome persistently objected, demanding she needed to stay by his side, again she was torn away by the strong arms of Shinosuke.

“He was okay last night!” She frantically cried as he let her go just outside of Inuyasha’s room.

“And, he’s okay now. I swear. This is normal with blood loss, but he’s part demon. He’s going to be fine.”

“No, but -“

“Kagome, I promise! He’s just fucking exhausted from healing, and the medication from last night has most likely worn off. I’ve seen this on numerous occasions. And, you want to be with him twenty-four-seven, I get it. You want to personally witness his progress, but you can’t. It’s not good for you. Wakana’s right, you shouldn’t see him like this right now. You both need a little space from each other.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense. He would never leave my side if I was hurt like that, and I don’t want to leave his.” Kagome argued, bleary eyed.

“Don’t you get it? If you’re in there, he’s going to be focused on your well-being the entire time. He wont want to rest because he’s going to want to make sure you’re calm. I already saw him trying; I was right there. And, you? You’re going to see the most traumatizing wound you’ve probably ever laid eyes on. Trust me, something like that doesn’t just leave your memory. Especially, when it’s happened to someone significant to you. It’s going to scar you, and each time you look at Inuyasha thereafter, you’ll either see the infliction or you’ll be absolutely terrified it’ll happen again, so you’ll overcompensate to prevent it. You both need to be apart. You got pretty banged up yesterday, too. When was the last time you just focused on yourself?” That last question came off playfully sarcastic, but Kagome couldn’t perceive anything but literalism at the moment.

“I don’t know, like thirteen years ago.” She responded blandly. “I have a little brother.”

“Oh my god.” He deadpanned, blinking. “You need to eat something.”

“No, but -“

“Kagome, come on.” Shinosuke placed his hand in the middle of her back to guide her. “I promise, he’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, need some food.”

“I don’t want food.”

“You’re eating food.”

And, so here she was, porridge and fruit placed on a tray before her as she sat on a rather large bed in a rather large room she hadn’t been in before. Kagome nibbled on a strawberry, feeling the grumpy pout written all over her face, her stomach in shambles, and Shinosuke snickering at her from a chair by the door.

“Are you going to watch me all freaking day?”

“That’s literally my job. So, yes.”

“Go away.” Kagome grumbled, half a strawberry in her mouth.

“No.” He smiled.

The door opened slowly, cautiously, Wakana walking in with a soft smile on her face. She pulled her long, brown hair from the low ponytail it’d been in, allowing the straight, flowing strands to hang freely now around her shoulders. Immediately, Shinosuke respectfully stood, giving a light bow of his head when their eyes met.

“He’s perfectly fine.” She assured Kagome, approaching closer. “The hole’s actually a bit smaller already. I was surprised to see such quick improvement. The wound is lathered in some herbs, he’s wrapped up nice and tight, and I had him sip on an herbal remedy to help alleviate some pain.”

“Can I see him?” Kagome softly asked, lowering the strawberry from her pink-stained lips.

“He’s asleep.” Wakana grimaced slightly.

“Can I - can I see him, anyway?”

“No.” Shinosuke chimed, robbing a grape from her fruit bowl.

Kagome scowled at the audacious guard, flickering her attention back at Wakana. “Why is he like this? I don’t think I like him.”

“I don’t think I do either.” She sighed, elbowing him in the side. “Sorry. I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s the head of our guards, and papa was right to have him watch over you. Though, your friend doesn’t appear to care as much as we’d thought he would. He can’t even move and he seems to think he can do better.”

“Oh, you told him?” Kagome asked, wondering when the topic could have come up. Though, she couldn’t deny that the response sounded very organic to Inuyasha’s nature. Processing everything else she’d said, her head cocked to the side in a quick subject change. “Wait, papa?”

Wakana gave a small laugh, smacking Shinosuke’s hand as he reached for another piece of fruit. “It’s like clockwork. I walk in, Inuyasha asks for you. We’ve told him multiple times that you’re being protected, but much like you, he wants to be by your side. And, yes. I’m the headman’s daughter. I asked Shinosuke to bring you to my room. Figured it would be more comfortable for you. I also have some clothes that should fit you.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Kagome kindly declined, handing Shinosuke the fork she hadn’t been using with a slice of honeydew on the end. She wasn’t a huge fan of that fruit, so he could eat all of those pieces for all she cared. “What happened to my clothes from yesterday?”

Wakana arched a spekulative brow. “Ruined?”

“What do you mean, ruined?”

“You didn’t actually expect that blood to come out, did you?” Shinosuke asked after swallowing his fruit.

“Oh, shit.” Kagome hissed. “I forgot! Crap, that was my last shirt.”

“I might be able to save the bodice, though.” Wakana mentioned, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Kagome’s eyes widened, a small pout returning to her face. “My bodice? What happened to my bodice?”

“The seams split. And - um - so did the back.”

It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. After rolling around in the dirt to fight a demon, what else could she have expected?

“R-I-P.” Shinosuke satirically said, snagging another honeydew. Kagome pinned him with a threatening glare, one he finally heeded as he recoiled drastically, crossing back over to his chair by the door.

“I’ve got plenty of dresses, love!” Wakana said, trying to lift her spirits. “You’re more than welcome to any!”

“I appreciate that, but what’ll I do when I leave here?”

“Take them with you!”

“No, I couldn’t.” Kagome shook her head. “That’s so sweet of you, but I really couldn’t.”

“I insist.”

“No, honestly. I can’t fight in a dress.”

“Neither can I.” Shinosuke commented, his mouth full.

“Oh my god, get out.” Wakana groaned, rolling her eyes as she scowled at Shinosuke.

“Can’t.” He grinned, pointing to Kagome. “Scout’s honor.”

“Then, quiet.”

“That, I can do.” He agreed, sealing his lips.

“Okay, here’s the thing: The women around here don’t really wear bodices anymore; everything’s sort of built into our dresses, and it’s rare to see a woman in pants around these parts -“

“Barbarians.”

Both women glared at Shinosuke, and abruptly, with a tension of fear, he stood from his seat, opening the door and dragging the chair out with him.

“Anyway,” Wakana groaned, redirecting her gaze back to Kagome now that they were alone. “As I was saying, I can probably make you another, and if not, I can consult the seamstress at the edge of town. Let me brainstorm a little on this, is that okay?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble for you. It’s not a problem. I can -“

“No, don’t worry. I love doing this. It’s the little things in life, right? It’s no trouble at all, and after what you two did for all of us yesterday, it’s a pleasure.”

“Oh. Well, alright. Thank you.” Kagome reluctantly agreed.

“For the meantime, let me replace your bandages and get you out of your pajamas.”

Kagome flexed her hand in their new wrappings, her split knuckle coated in a thick ointment beneath and tingling from the remedy’s properties. The scrape on her head had a light layer smeared on, the bandage poking from her bangs and covering the entire area to keep the ointment in.

She could see the enthusiasm on Wakana’s face as she pulled out a few dresses from the back of her wardrobe. She’d explained that she’d made them herself, but there was something else there. A joy that told Kagome she hadn’t been able to pull them out in a while.

“I’d put my hobbies aside for the past couple of years. Who was I to have lavish taste and ease my worries with distractions such as sewing while my people were in a depression, constantly afraid of the henchmen’s next visit? Not to mention, the healthier you looked - and I mean that in all regards - the worse treatment you’d receive. It was best not to attract more attention, you know? I didn’t want them increasing their inspections. Not when there was -“ She stopped herself, glancing over at Kagome. “Not when I had people to protect. Their fear is our fear. So is their pain. And, sadness. My papa, he does his best for his people, and he stands right with them no matter what.

“Once Moryomaru starting coming around, that was when we all stowed away our irreplaceable belongings. My mother’s ashes, a few knickknacks from ancestors, and things of the likes from the village people were stored here below ground. In fact, they’re being brought up to return to their homes as we speak.” Her happiness was indescribable. It was like Kagome could physically see the weight had lifted off of her shoulders.

“But, wait.” She couldn’t help but ask. “Are you positive we got them all?”

“Actually, yes. I wasn’t there to see it happen, unfortunately. I was here in the courtyard with the women that live in this home. With Shinosuke and the guards. Moryomaru was in the midsts of taunting us when they left for whatever was going on, and I remember being so confused in that moment. But, papa told me everything. Inuyasha singlehandedly took all of the henchmen on. More importantly, you two killed Moryomaru. You killed the henchmen’s commander. Their leader. I’m not sure if that’s the end of all inspections, but the henchmen are like chickens running around without a head without someone to tell them what to do. And, I may have never met Naraku, but I certainly figure he finds himself too superior to ever sully his hands by speaking with low lives such as them. I’m sure inspections are about to slow substantially from this point forward. I can feel it.”

“Okay, hold on.” Kagome spoke, leaning on the frame of the bed as she digested that information, brown eyes unfocused on the carpet. “Moryomaru. That’s that thing’s name? That creature?”

“Yes.” Wakana confirmed.

“They were - they were the commander? Of all the henchmen? They were the one who called all the shots?”

“Ultimately, yes. Moryomaru liked to boast about their leadership, that was for sure, and while they had a chain of command it seemed - with a leader of each platoon - Moryomaru was the top. Forgive me, but did you not know that?”

“No.” Kagome admitted, glancing up at the headman’s daughter.

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed in contemplation. “This may sound presumptuous, but you guys came in so ready to fight, we’d sort of figured you were hunting Moryomaru.”

“Not at all. Before yesterday, we’d never seen Moryomaru. At least, I hadn’t. Not sure about Inuyasha, but he’d never mentioned them before. We were in the area when we sensed the demons, and then we heard some screaming so -“

“So, you came to help…” Wakana finished, astonished.

“Yeah.” Kagome nodded.

“You came to help even though you’re a conjurer…”

“Well, Inuyasha did. I can’t take much credit there; he’d made me agree to stay behind so they wouldn’t know about me.”

“Even so, he ran in even though he’s a hanyou. I can’t believe… You guys - you still ended up fighting too, you cant tell me you got these wounds from hiding, and I - you two are - I can’t believe -“ Wakana couldn’t finish her sentence. She’d been incredibly grateful to these two from the moment her father had brought them back to their home, and she thought incredibly highly of them from the instant she understood the incident. But, to learn the circumstance a little better, to comprehend that there was plenty on the line for them too, but they still contributed their strengths to save them, and ultimately so many more, Wakana was awestruck. Heedlessly, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Kagome’s shoulders to hug her tight.

Kagome had tensed at first, but recovered quickly, returning the gesture. At first, her touch was light, cautious, but as Wakana leaned further into her, Kagome firmed her hold on the woman.

“Are you okay?” Kagome asked, slightly confused.

“I’m just so thankful to you two.” She leaned back to say, smiling. “To know it was your decision to help and not a job makes it even more meaningful. I can see it’s kind of hard to wrap your head around, but you haven’t just saved my village and people. You’ve saved so many others, as well.”

“But, their leaders… the second in commands, I suppose -“

“Chickens without a head, girl. Chickens without a head.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help but fear that you’re wrong.”

“I understand. I don’t think I’ve seen nearly as much of the world and its cruelty as you and Inuyasha have.” Wakana rubbed Kagome’s arm consolingly. There was a chance that she was wrong. Nothing in this world was certain, especially now, and if Naraku created Moryomaru for this purpose, he could absolutely create another monster to take their place. But, from what Shinosuke had experienced, what he and his father had come back to inform her father of, she wanted to believe that this was the first step in overcoming the evil that clouded their lives. So, maybe hearing it from their guard would help alleviate the worry in Kagome’s frown.

“Shinosuke, come here please!” She shouted over her shoulder.

“Ma’am?” The tall man poked his head in through the large doors a short second later, his brows raised in question.

“In.”

“Ma’am.” He complied, taking the order and shutting the door right behind him.

“Tell Kagome what you know about Moryomaru, please. No jokes. Give her what you’ve learned.”

Shinosuke gave a single nod of his head, regarding the conjurer with his charcoal eyes. “They’re a creation of Naraku, derived from his own vessel. They took leadership of the inspectors, having nearly a thousand men at their beck and call at one point. They’d admitted that as their numbers began suddenly depleting drastically, that was when they’d decided to come forward and monitor more inspections to see where the disruption was coming from. It was more to show that if villagers were beginning an uprising, they were there to scare them back in line.”

“And, Moryomaru’s chain of command?” Wakana requested.

“Useless without Moryomaru. They were too involved, had a need for control, so none of their ‘officers’, so to speak, were allowed to make calls without their issuance. Therefore, without him, the chain breaks.”

“How do you know all this?” Kagome’s question came out quietly, taken aback.

A small grimace appeared on Shinosuke’s face and Wakana’s gaze fell downward. There wasn’t much delay before the guard looked to the woman at Kagome’s side and asked, “May I?”

“Of course.” She nodded.

Shinosuke lifted his shirt high enough to show the abnormally large scar stretching over the outer portion of his ribcage. “A few of us guards were abducted by that fucker a few months ago; myself, my father, and Nobunaga. Said we got too bold in thinking we could protect anybody so they wanted to put us in our place - which would serve as a warning to our other guards.”

Kagome’s jaw had dropped slightly, her eyes widening at the deformed scar. Her breath locked in her lungs from her gasp and it was almost like she couldn’t look away from the sealed wound. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. It should have been fathomable, given everything she’d witnessed over the years, but she couldn’t believe she was in the presence of someone who’d survived evident torture.

“They were in custody for five weeks.” Wakana added solemnly as Shinosuke lowered his clothing. “We didn’t know if they’d return. But, Shinosuke, being Shinosuke, used the opportunity to memorize everything he’d seen while with them.”

“If I lived, I was going to make sure I told everyone who needed to know everything I saw and heard. Tell me, conjurer. Are you someone who needs to know, or who’s just too curious for their own good?”

Kagome couldn’t fight her hesitation. Her fingers curled into apprehensive fists as her nerves gave a small wring of her stomach. No one knew of their quest. No one knew their true objective, Koga being the one exception on Inuyasha’s side. But, even after finding out Koga was part of the war, she still decided not to disclose her purpose. Koga didn’t know what she was, though. That was a huge part of her reason against telling him. There was something different about the circumstances at play here. She’d swooped in with her arrow, and with Inuyasha’s blast from his sword, they’d synchronously created an insanely powerful attack. They’d unknowingly destroyed a war machine. They’d unknowingly annihilated a part of Naraku. The people here knew what she was whether she confirmed or denied, and they were allies. Why hide anymore?

“Inuyasha and I, our mission is to kill Naraku. We want to find a way to end the darkness we’re living in.” She said, leveling her chin confidently.

“That’s what you’re working toward?” He asked, and it wasn’t a test. There was the hint of concern on his brow.

“Everyday.”

“Well, fuck.” Shinosuke sighed. “Sounds legitimate enough to me.”

He walked closer so his voice wouldn’t carry, stopping just a few feet away from the women. Kagome had stiffened slightly, and he knew exactly why. She was afraid. It was a learned reaction. Right now, she was vulnerable, and as far as she was concerned, alone. No matter how many times she was promised safety, assured coalition, it wasn’t always possible to turn off that part of your brain that braced you for the worst. Because, you were trained to expect it after so long. Especially, being someone in her position.

So, as he stopped, he made sure to slowly outstretch his hand. He held it out for her to take, patiently allowing her to register that he meant no harm - only respect. As Kagome slipped her small palm within his hold, he wrapped his fingers firmly around it, carefully stepping inward, bending forward, and whispering in her ear.

“Naraku has five creations. Excluding Moryomaru, I encountered two. They were named Hakudoshi and Kagura.”

—

There was a small abatement from the storm. It was a little humid outside, but Kagome just wanted to be absorbed in the scent of rain. Finally accepting that while she was staying at the village’s headman’s home Shinosuke was an accessory to her person, she decided to drag him outside to take a walk with her.

Wakana had been so patient and kind, so Kagome had allowed her to have some fun and dress her the way she so pleased. Having to put it away for quite some time, Kagome could see the freedom on her pink cheeks as she finally got to dive into her creativity again. It made Wakana happy, and after so much tentative care to both she and Inuyasha, Kagome was glad to be the first she expressed her art on again.

Unfortunately, it was a little obvious she hadn’t worn a dress in well over a decade. Let alone, had never once in her life worn a dress quite this nice. Shinosuke had called her out for her incessant fidgeting three times and kept snickering at her whenever she readjusted the cut around her breasts. It was a little lower than anything she was used to, and the low dip had her feeling extremely exposed. She wasn’t. Each time she instinctually went to put her breasts away she had to keep reminding herself that they were exactly where they were meant to be, but it was just weird to feel so much of a breeze.

The sleeves were off the shoulder, fastened to her upper arms by a material that clung. The rest of the sleeves were long and flowy, cut in the middle for her arms to slip out of had she reached for something. Never in her life had Kagome worn such a pretty shade of pastel pink, nor had she experienced little, blush roses made of silk fastened to her bust, nor had she had the opportunity to feel ribbons made of the same, tied in a bow at the center of her sternum. Tiny leaves were sewn into the fabric just beneath her breasts, cinching the dress to her ribs, and the same was said for her waistline, holding the gown to her as the rest of the length of the skirt was free to flow around her entire lower body.

Kagome’s hair was brushed, waving naturally, but tied half up in a twisted bun that was held in place by pins unseen. Her bangs were in tidy order for the first time in weeks, and Wakana was meticulous to pull the strands that framed her jawline free from the bun. She’d asked to put a subtle hint of glitter on Kagome’s cheeks, and considering it was a huge day of firsts for her, Kagome could only bring herself to shrug in a huge, why the hell not?

Truthfully, the doting makeover was fun for Kagome, too. While she felt more comfortable in pants and a shirt, it was only because it was what she was used to, and functionality called for it. She actually really loved dresses. The look of them, at least. With it being years since she’d even considered wearing one, she wondered so often if she could even pull them off. And, when she finally got a look at herself in the mirror once Wakana had finished, pride gleaming in the woman’s eyes, Kagome couldn’t help but grow incredibly shy. She loved the way it looked on her, but it was so different.

“Tell me you’re not girly without telling me you’re not girly.” Shinosuke jabbed, chuckling at her side as they strolled around the outer pathway of the mansion.

“Hush.” Kagome sighed. “I think I was eight the last time I wore a dress.”

“They’re not going anywhere.” He remarked, regarding the way she kept fixing the bust of her dress. “Believe me, there are women in town with bigger breasts than you that do manual labor in dresses made of thinner material, and they’ll proudly tell you that their tits stay in place.”

Another sigh as she dropped her hands to her side. “I’m just not used to it.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“No, I do. It’s pretty.” Kagome assured, looking up at him and nodding. “I’m just - I mean, like I said, I’m - I’m not used to it.”

“Ah, I get it.” Shinosuke smirked, looking ahead of them. “You’re self conscious.”

She didn’t say anything. She merely looked at the thriving plants to her right, minding how the petals of flowers were still dotted with droplets of rain. The sky was still blanketed in dark clouds, conveying that the storm had yet to fully pass, and the air was thick with the comforting smell of moisture.

“May I compliment you?” He respectfully asked.

Kagome glanced up at him again, curious. “Not if you feel obligated.”

“I just want to make sure I won’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. I appreciate that.” She really did. She understood that he was simply trying to make her feel more secure with his honest thoughts while not trying to offset her by making it seem he was overstepping any boundaries. Not many men had that courtesy. “Sure.”

Shinosuke stopped, turning to the woman at his side. It was interesting to him to see such a strong female who’d participated in taking down a plague to their society seem so small and timid in such a superficial environment. Maybe she was the sort who didn’t realize her beauty. Maybe she was the sort that didn’t really focus on that sort of thing, and this element - delicate femininity - was abnormal to her. Given such, it was irrelevant. Anyone with eyes could see that even when she ran into the courtyard yesterday along her battered companion, covered in scratches, dirt, blood, and fear she was inherently beautiful. Now, cleaned, bandaged, still slightly guarded but overall level, Kagome was enchanting. And, he could easily tell that that was what Wakana was trying to enhance.

It wasn’t that she was merely letting loose and having fun. Wakana was specific to adhere to the minds of others, as well as their hearts. She’d wanted to distract Kagome from her partner’s condition. She’d wanted to make her feel a little better about herself while she knew things, in general, felt off to not have Inuyasha beside her. Sometimes, it was the little things that brought a smile to appear. A genuine smile.

Kagome was brave, fierce, and selfless. That, alone, was gorgeous. And, Wakana was trying to bring that inward appearance outward so Kagome could see the exact way she was looking at her.

Shinosuke took a moment. He noticed the small hint of pink on her cheeks, the way she’d nervously been pinching her lips together since the moment they’d stepped outside - which had inadvertently created a nice, rosy hue, the way her hair was waving just a little bit more than before due to the slight humidity. He smiled softly, tilting his head to the side.

“I think you’re beautiful. I think you worry too much, and that if you just stood up a little straighter, held your head up a little higher, and allowed yourself to step out of your comfort zone, you’d own your radiance. I think you could stop men in their tracks, and I think it’d be cute to see how confused you are when it happens, because you seem just air-headed enough not to understand what sort of affect you have on people. Even looking as worn out as you did yesterday, you were pretty. Right now, you’re - Kagome, you’re beautiful.”

He’d said it directly, compassionately, kindly. It wasn’t from a place that would make her stiffen with shyness, but a place that made her smile from genuine benevolence.

“Thank you.” She said. “You’re pretty, too.”

Shinosuke laughed, patting Kagome’s head and redirecting her to walk along the path through the courtyard.

At the very edge, before the entrance from town and just before Shinosuke turned her around, a little girl with her brother ran up, hand-in-hand. A soft rumble of thunder struck in the distance, and the smell of rain had become just a little heavier in the passing minutes. Yet, the children seemed untroubled by the threat, staring wide-eyed at Kagome.

“Mayu, no. Go home.” Shinosuke quickly said as she opened her mouth. “Not right now.”

“But -“ The little girl quickly went to argue, but her brother was already trying to tug her away. He seemed unwelcoming, protective, and the one that liked to steer a little more on the careful side.

“Has anything I’ve ever said been negotiable?” Shinosuke asked in a firm tone.

“No, but -“

“Then, go home. Your mother probably doesn’t even know you’re out here, am I right?”

“Yes.” Satoru claimed with contempt. “Mayu didn’t want to listen to me and decided to sneak out while mom was napping. So, I came with her. Sorry, Shinosuke. We’re leaving.”

“No, I need to talk to her.” Mayu tried again a little louder, stomping her foot for added effect.

“Not right now, you don’t. Satoru, is your mother unwell again?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” The identical boy answered.

“Mayu, come on.” Shinosuke bargained, kneeling down before the two children. “Please, don’t stress her out further right now. Wait for the storm to pass, at least. You know how much your mom worries about you. You need to give people time to adjust and recover. You aren’t the only person to consider here.”

Kagome could see the little girl fighting herself. Her dark eyes bounced from Shinosuke to her and then back to the guard, nostrils flaring at her frustrated huff.

“Be patient. Now’s not the time to be selfish. Go home.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, and then darted a glare toward Kagome, catching her completely off guard. “But, I’ll be back!”

Shinosuke stood, returning to Kagome’s side as the two children ran off down the street, taking an alley corner.

“Why - why did I feel like that was a threat?” Kagome warily asked.

“Eh, she’s harmless. Mayu’s rough around the edges, for sure, but she’s a good kid. Satoru’s the one you should watch. He used to be this timid boy a couple of years ago, barely spoke, hid behind his twin sister, the works, but then one day he just switched. Mayu comes off tough, but her brother’s the one that’ll actually scare you. Believe me.” He said, placing his hand at her mid back to turn her around to head back through the courtyard garden.

“Well, what was it she wanted to talk to me about? It seemed urgent.”

“It’s not. She’s just pushy. I can guarantee she’ll be back, hopefully at a more appropriate time, and she’ll be able to bug you then. If you’re okay with that, of course. If not, tell me now. I’ll be able to keep her at bay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

“Because, you’re a conjurer. And, she’s going to bring that up.”

“Ah, that’s right. She asked me yesterday, but the headman stopped her.”

“I know it’s a touchy subject. She’s going to be a ten year old, and she’s not going to understand boundaries.”

Kagome pressed her lips together again, grazing her fingers over the large leaves that waited for their next dosage of moisture as they strolled along.

“Thing about her is, she keeps secrets better than any adult I’ve ever met. So, if you’d like to see what she has to ask you but you’re worried about you’re answers getting out, don’t be. Mayu would take it to the grave. And, Satoru - because they come in a pair - barely speaks to begin with, and his loyalty lies with his twin. If she’s keeping a secret, so is he.” Shinosuke added, carefully maneuvering Kagome around a puddle.

“It’s alright.” She spoke softly, smiling. “I don’t mind. I’ll talk with her next -“

“There you are!” Wakana cheerfully greeted from over the second story bannister, overlooking the courtyard. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

“What’s up?” Shinosuke asked.

“Inuyasha’s awake. Kagome, would you like to see him?”

Kagome’s heart gave a heavy thump in her chest, and her skin ignited in an excited eruption of warmth. With an anxious breath, she nodded eagerly, rushing the rest of the way toward the main house where Wakana agreed to meet them on the first floor.

“Here’s the thing: he’s a little grumpy at the moment. Not very talkative, speaks with more grunts than words, seems perpetually upset but won’t admit he’s in any pain when we ask…” Wakana mentioned as she guided them through the corridors.

“That’s actually normal.” Kagome replied, pursing her lips.

“Is it?”

“Oh, yeah.” She remarked, nodding. “Inuyasha’s not known for his compassion, I’ll tell you that. He likes to handle things on his own, so I’d say, if he’s not wincing or yelling at you, he’s fine.”

“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, he’s pretty lively. He’s sitting up with minimal problem, but he’s been asking for you. I told him to eat and we’d go and find you after, but he refused. Said he didn’t want food. Or medicine. He really should have something in his stomach before his next dose - given he stops declining it. Maybe you could convince him to try and eat?” Wakana inquired, turning to look at Kagome while they walked as she was a few steps behind.

“He doesn’t listen to me.” Kagome objected with a modest shake of her head.

Both Wakana and Shinosuke shot surprised looks at her, and Kagome felt herself go on cautious alert, almost freezing.

“You’re kidding.”

“No?” She replied, confused. “Inuyasha never listens to me.” Kagome reiterated.

“I’m sorry, I sort of thought you two were on a… how do I put it? I sort of thought you two were on a level where you take each other’s advice.”

“Oh, Inuyasha’s stubbornness puts mine to shame. He doesn’t like to be told what to do. All it does is make him want to do the exact opposite. And, if I give him advice, he just thinks it’s nagging.”

“Wait, hold on, hold on. Pause.” Shinosuke said, stopping in the middle of the hall with a hand held out to halt her. Kagome’s wide eyes landed on him, lips parted in question. “What are you two?”

There was hesitation, dubiety, as Kagome did a gentle sway from side to side before finally speaking again. “What - uh - what do you mean?”

“Like, what are you and Inuyasha?”

Kagome glanced back and forth from Shinosuke to Wakana, noticing the same question was written all over Wakana’s face. “I - I don’t -“

“You know exactly what I’m asking.”

“I - uh - we are… friends.”

“Uh-huh, why did that sound like a question?” Shinosuke interrogated, crossing his arms over his chest while he arched a brow, smirking now.

“I-it wasn’t. It wasn’t.” She ended up saying with more confidence the second time. “We’re friends.”

“You’re friends?”

“We’re friends.” Kagome couldn’t help the nervous smile she’d cracked that time. She bit the inside of her lip, her swaying growing more obvious to speak of her discomfort and uncertainty. And, she cursed herself for that as she fiddled with the long sleeves of her borrowed dress.

“Are you sure?”

“We’re friends. We’re friends. We’re friends.” Kagome repeated awkwardly, nodding as she looked back and forth between the two. “We’re friends.”

“Say it one more time, you might just convince yourself.” Shinosuke remarked, chuckling.

“We’re -“ Kagome caught herself, pinching her lips together as she deflated slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Wakana started, grimacing. “I thought you two might have been in a relationship. We all did.”

“Everyone thinks that?” Kagome apprehensively asked.

“Could you blame us?” Shinosuke spoke, amused. “I don’t know friends who sleep that close to each other. Not the way we found you two.”

“Well, maybe you should try it.” Kagome feigned attitude, pursing her lips. “It’s comforting.”

“Mhm, I know. I sleep like that with Wakana.” He sassed right back.

Kagome’s attention snapped Wakana’s way just in time to watch her roll her eyes.

“We’re engaged.” She said.

“Oh,” Kagome nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Shinosuke pressed, laughing as he caught Kagome in her own shock.

She’d opened her mouth to speak, to say anything in defense, but nothing came out. She was flustered and confused.

“It’s okay not to know.” He chuckled, patting her head again. “But, I gotta tell you, you’re not just friends.”

An overwhelming sense of bashfulness washed over Kagome then. Her face went hot and she ducked it. She couldn’t remember a time she’d blushed so horribly, and as she gazed down at the floor, she caught how red her chest even appeared at the bottom of her eyes. Her feelings were obvious. By now, she got that. Being called on it didn’t change how humiliating it was, and it only increased her confusion.

Shinosuke placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to walk down the hall while she couldn’t help but continue to hide her embarrassment. She and Inuyasha were friends. That wasn’t a lie. But, she couldn’t speak for his feelings. If anyone were to ask her how he felt about her, the only things she was certain about were his undeniable protectiveness, his caring nature whenever she wasn’t feeling well or they were alone, and that she annoyed the absolute hell out of him. If Shinosuke and Wakana were to have asked Kagome for her individual feelings for Inuyasha though, her answer would have been different. And, much more rattled. Because, she cared about Inuyasha now more than she cared even for herself. She appreciated the hanyou more than the water she drank or the food she ate. She had an attachment to him she never wanted to think about giving up. And, after witnessing his brutal injury yesterday, seeing blood stain his body, having to catch him as he fell, she dreadfully feared losing him in more ways than one. She felt it all so deeply. To the point where she couldn’t sleep last night unless she was touching him. To the point where he was on her mind constantly in their mandatory separation. To the point where the closer they got to his quarters, the more unnerved and stable she felt herself becoming - like a walking case of contradiction.

But, the moment the door was open, and Wakana walked in ahead of them to greet whatever staff was alongside the hanyou, and Shinosuke released her shoulders to enter in before him, and the moment her brown eyes found Inuyasha sitting on his futon, lower body covered by the blanket, back leaning against the wall, and torso heavily bandaged, all of those thoughts faded away. They were insignificant and superficial. They didn’t match up to the way he sat up a little taller at her appearance, bringing a small cringe of pain from his lips. They didn’t equate to the way she watched the breath leave his inflated chest, and how his golden eyes stayed on her as she hurried across the room to him. They didn’t matter in the face of how much she just needed to be right next to him at that very instant, and those thoughts that had her feeling scared had vanished completely. Maybe it was momentarily, but that was inconsequential. Because, she was just inches from his arm now, she could smell his clean scent, and she could feel the body heat that reached her like a hand that pulled her in.

Inuyasha had finally caught her scent again. It was something he hated about stormy weather. Rain clouded his olfactory system, and if something or someone wasn’t close by, he’d never be able to tell where they were. It was different to sleep without her aroma near him, and he was sure that if it weren’t for whatever drugs they kept putting in his body, he’d have never drifted off in the first place. The moment he regained consciousness not too long ago, noticing women by his side that weren’t Kagome, cleaning his wounds, changing his wrappings, he felt out of sorts. All he could think about was her, worry about was her. Who were these women? Where was Kagome? She’d been hurt the day before. Was she being taken care of? He vaguely remembered a woman telling him Kagome was being carefully protected for his own peace of mind the last time he was awake, but that was no fucking comfort whatsoever. He didn’t trust anyone with her, let alone someone he had never fucking met, himself.

The moment her calming scent, subtle and light, found its way into his sensitive nose, Inuyasha was on alert, watching the door to his room and ignoring the staff that had been left with him. They were trying to get him to take medicine, trying to get him to lay back down if he wasn’t going to eat so they could put a cooling rag on his head for his splitting migraine, but it was as if they weren’t even there anymore the second he sensed Kagome coming. Then, she entered, and even coherent thought ceased to exist.

That dress. That dress adorning her fair skin. It was both cruel to him and enticing. It complimented her figure, it flowed around her legs, it belonged to her body and should never be replaced. Kagome sped across the floor to rejoin him at his side, cutting off his clear view, and he found himself dissatisfied. He wasn’t done. She couldn’t enter a room like a goddess here to grace his presence and not give him ample timing to properly memorize the image.

Still, be that as it may, his gaze followed her. It wasn’t an order his brain gave to his eyes and head as she sat by his damaged arm, anxious and relieved. Inuyasha legitimately couldn’t take his eyes off of her. If he had that sort of control, if he did himself the injustice by looking away before he was ready, he would have cursed himself for days to come. If he couldn’t take her all in, he was going to take in as much as he could.

He was breathless, dazed, but in his right mind. Kagome had him captivated. She walked in and her smile reached his soul. All at once, he was stunned and comforted. And, he was grateful.

She’d asked him if he was okay. He hadn’t heard her words, spoken so lightly, but he’d watched her lips move. With his left hand, Inuyasha reached across to her, his finger gently rubbing just beneath her chin as he nodded. He was going to speak, but his amber irises fell to her shoulders, the skin he’d yet to be fortunate enough to really see until now. Small, brown and tan freckles dotted her shoulder. There weren’t an abundance, but there were just enough to steal his focus. With everything in him, he wanted to kiss each and every one, and with everything in him, he reminded himself that it was the wrong place at the wrong time.

“This arm,” Kagome mentioned, looking down at the bandaged shoulder and bicep. “You can’t really move it, can you? I should switch to the other side.”

She glanced to the woman that occupied his left, about to ask if she’d mind switching with her before Inuyasha finally spoke.

Now was his chance. The golden opportunity. “No, it’s - it’d be better if you sat in front of me. My neck’s stiff, so turning it sucks right now.” He fibbed.

“Oh, okay.” She obliged with a nod, scooting herself to sit by his thigh. Her back was now turned to the entrance, fully facing her companion as she gently leaned against his leg. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Better.” Now he could get a perfect look at her.

Kagome was trying not to concentrate on his torso, on the wrappings that dressed his bare core. It would only increase her obvious concern, and it wasn’t something she wanted to immediately bother Inuyasha with. Instead, she occupied her sights with anything else; his fingers that rubbed against the blanket covering him, his soft gaze on her, his long hair that wasn’t held captive in a high ponytail like she was so used to, then the tray of food at his side.

“You haven’t eaten, have you?” Though she knew the answer already, she figured it was respectful to allow him to speak for himself.

Inuyasha looked down to his untouched food, the bowl of fruit, the bread, the meat, the rice. He couldn’t think about eating before when all that occupied his mind was Kagome. He needed to know she was okay before he even considered taking a bite.

“No.” He lightly replied.

“Did you eat this morning?”

He shook his head.

“That means the last time you ate was yesterday morning, Inuyasha.” She gently reminded, her brow curved in concern. “Do you not have an appetite, or -“

“Have you eaten?” Inuyasha interrupted, eyeing her.

He noticed the way the hollow of her throat emphasized with her inhale as her lips sealed for a second, her shoulders tensing the slightest bit. She was quick to relax, her fingers playing with the loose skirt of her dress. “Yeah, I ate not too long ago.”

“Did you?” He questioned skeptically.

“I did.” Kagome nodded.

The hanyou looked over to the tall guard at the far end of the room, standing next to the woman he’d seen more often than Kagome in the last twenty-four hours. “You the one who’s watching her?”

“I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Shinosuke.”

“Has she eaten? She tends to not be able to stomach much when she’s uncomfortable or anxious.”

Kagome stiffened at the correct observation. She hadn’t realized Inuyasha paid attention to the mundane details of her characteristics, especially well enough to be able to relay it to others. That was something she didn’t much talk about, nor necessarily know when or how to bring up. So, she’d eat a little when food was placed before her to curb worry, but when her stomach told her to stop, she’d heed the warning.

Shinosuke fought his smug grin, watching the conjurer slowly duck her head. Though he couldn’t see her face from where he stood, he knew - just fucking knew - she was blushing again. Yeah, okay. They’re friends, alright.

“She had some fruit a couple of hours ago. Didn’t eat it all.”

“Just fruit?” Inuyasha’s attention shifted back to Kagome.

“More than you’ve eaten.” She remarked.

He chuckled lightly. She had him there. “I’ll share with you. I’m not that hungry, either.”

“We can go get her her own plate. It’s no trouble at all.” The housemaid on his left said, but Inuyasha shook his head.

“We’ll share. It’s fine.” It was his own way of protecting her from feeling obligated to eat more than she could handle out of sheer courtesy.

Kagome looked at the food as he placed the tray on his lap. The heavier stuff was incredibly unappealing. It looked like it tasted great, but the thought of eating it had her tummy turning upside down. In silent communication to her partner, she glanced from the meal to the hanyou, sucking in her bottom lip nervously.

Inuyasha understood what she was conveying. She really couldn’t eat too much right now. “You like strawberries, right?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, her tone small.

“Here.” Inuyasha picked the strawberries out of his bowl, putting them in the corner of the tray nearest her.

“But -“

“I don’t like them.” He lied. Inuyasha knew she was about to reject, not wanting to take the option of something sweet from him that he may enjoy, but he really didn’t care. He wanted her to eat, and if she liked them, she could have them all.

Both Shinosuke and Wakana had pressed their lips firmly together to hide their grins, giving each other little side glances as their surprise continued to escalate. Their hanyou guest was now eating, something Wakana couldn’t get him to do no matter how much she'd tried. How did Kagome question anything? How did she not see what everyone else could see? It was innocent and adorable, and a crime to interrupt.

“Ladies, let’s give them some space.” Wakana suggested, clapping her hands together once. “There’s no need for us to be here right now.”

The few staff in the room bowed slightly in compliance and rose to leave, the patter from their feet heard as they trailed toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a little while to give you some medicine. If you need anything in the meantime, we’ll be down the hall.”

Finally, they were left alone. Inuyasha felt the tension in his shoulders relax a little. Having eyes on him all the time was stressful and he fucking hated it. While he knew they were merely being kind and doing their jobs, it was still something he’d never grow accustomed to. More than that, Kagome was right where she belonged. No one was taking her away, no one was disrupting their time for the moment, and no one was playing bodyguard to the person he was supposed to protect.

“I need you to eat a little bit more than fruit, Kagome.” He tried, tearing off a chunk of his bread for her. “This or rice.”

“Tear that piece in half and you’ve got a deal.” She wagered.

“Nope.” He chuckled again, giving a minor wince from the pain it brought his abdomen. He recovered, hoping she hadn’t seen, but it was Kagome. Of course, she’d noticed. Her brown eyes were large with worry, a frown appearing, and she sat up a little straighter in preparation to help in any way she could had he needed any. “I’m fine.” Inuyasha assured.

She didn’t speak, sights drifting down to his bandaging. It was like she was waiting for blood to reappear.

“Hey,” The hanyou reached forward, taking her chin in his fingers and bringing her attention back up to his face. “Stop it. I’m okay. Eat the bread.”

“Your arm -“

“I can move it.” He mentioned, releasing her and giving her the chunk he’d torn off. “I just cant reach up or anything. Not yet. Give it another day or two.”

Not wanting to upset him right now, she decided not to argue or fight him on eating. If all he was requesting was for her to eat a few pieces of strawberries and a small chunk of bread, she could handle that.

He’d eaten as much as he could too, and as soon as they were finished, he placed the tray off to his side, leaving it there to be forgotten. Inuyasha went right back to taking the conjurer in, allowing the image of her in that dress to burn into the forefront of his mind. That soft shade of pink complimented her so well, especially when her face tinted just a bit darker. The glitter on her cheeks was a nice touch, but her hair dressed half up the way it was suited her so fucking well. It was cute. She was gorgeous. He was awestruck.

Kagome had caught him looking, quickly growing shy. Remembering the lower cut of her bust, Kagome covered the cleavage that showed, desperately not wanting to make him uncomfortable right now. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Inuyasha was swift to assure, reaching for her wrist and pulling it away. “Go back to how you were.”

Her skin was warm, and as her hand landed on her thigh, his own wandered down, playing with the fabric over it.

“Do you like it?” She asked curiously.

“Don’t make me answer that.” He tried not to let his tone convey how imperative it was that she didn’t push him in that direction. Inuyasha would lose his composure. He was already riding a fine line, but if he said yes, he’d feel compelled to further admit just how dangerous it was for him to be so near her while she looked like this. His heart wasn’t fairing well as it was. He wasn’t sure he could handle voicing that on top of it.

Kagome couldn’t help but grow increasingly nervous. He seemed hardened, maybe a little put off. Even though his fingers were continuously playing with the length of her dress, skimming her thigh over and over, she couldn’t help but worry with that answer that the clothing didn’t suit her as well as she’d thought.

“Do you hate it?” She unintentionally asked, her voice carrying smaller.

Amber eyes shot up to hers, then drifted down over the curve of her body. He hadn’t meant to come off any sort of negative way, though he understood how it’d happened. Hate. It was laughable to imagine that, given his current state of mind. If she had a way in, she’d understand that hate was far from what he actually felt.

“No. Not at all.” Inuyasha answered, sucking in a breath to keep himself grounded. Her scent was heavy and soothing, and as he found himself staring at her plush lips, he realized that the strawberry tint had him wanting to kiss her now more than any other time he’d considered it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even blame the medicine for the thoughts that wouldn’t quiet this time. In an attempt to silence them anyway, he continued to speak. “Where did this come from?”

“Wakana. She likes to make dresses.” Kagome answered, a smile curving her lips upward.

“Is she the lady that woke us up this morning?”

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s the headman’s daughter.”

“Oh, that’s right. I vaguely remember her mentioning that, but I was fucking out of it when she did.”

“She’s super nice. Unfortunately, my clothes didn’t survive, so I’m stuck borrowing some until we figure something out. She mentioned making me something, but it might be easier for everyone if we just head to a shop.” She said, fighting her instinct to adjust her dress again.

“Did your bodice make it?” Inuyasha smirked teasingly. As he watched a dramatic pout form on her lips, he really had to put effort into not laughing. The motion would only hurt him, and he wasn’t sure she needed that right now - though she’d have to deal with the amused expression he couldn’t hide.

“It tore.” Kagome whined.

“Called it.”

“Shut up.” She gave a light smack on his thigh, her pout remaining.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the bandage on her head, or the one on her knuckles, and it was impossible to ignore the scrape he’d gotten a peek at on the back of her shoulder and the redness that didn’t belong on her cheekbone. It just wasn’t something he wanted to talk about first. Now that they were in the realm of the subject, Inuyasha grabbed her hand, pulling her to lean closer to him so he could push her bangs out of the way. No blood seeped through the bandage, so at least he knew it wasn’t bad. Still, his memory of her condition was extremely foggy.

He hadn’t forgotten the horrible amount of blood staining her stomach and arm, though. How could he? That, unfortunately, stayed with him even while he was unconscious. Without warning, Inuyasha’s palm found her waist and he pressed against it gently, feeling for wrappings he was worried she would lie about. When he felt nothing, his hand continued to travel over the general area he’d remembered the blood being in. If she winced, he’d feel awful but at least he’d know she was wounded and couldn’t keep it from him.

“What are you doing?” Kagome asked, concerned. Inuyasha didn’t answer, but his earlier amusement had gradually vanished, shifting to something pressing and off. His jaw was clenched, but instead of the furrowed look of his brow she’d grown used to, it was curved upward in distress.

The only flinch she’d made was when he pinched around her ribs, and he knew he’d only tickled her; it wasn’t one of pain. Still, he searched, breaking from her abdomen momentarily to pull her right arm out of the part in the loose sleeve, looking for signs of wounds. The flesh wasn’t broken at all along her forearm, but still she’d been covered in blood. She’d said it wasn’t hers, but there was so much. There was so fucking much. It was like he was realizing his worst fear, and all that flashed through his mind was how that green shirt clung to her stomach wherever the crimson had soaked.

“Were you hurt? What happened, Kagome?” He finally asked, once more touching her waist to feel if he’d missed something.

“I’m fine.” She’d stated, almost unsure. But, then it clicked. She understood what he was looking for. “No, no. That blood wasn’t mine. I was attacked by a demon, but that was his blood. I swear.”

“Kagome, how the fuck…” It wasn’t that he was exasperated. It was that he desperately needed to know. He’d agitated his nerves just now, and all he could think about was her hurt, mortally wounded while he couldn’t get to her.

“Do you want to see? Would that help? There’s nothing there, I promise.”

“Show me.” The hanyou hastily agreed.

She was quick to oblige, reaching for a clean towel off to the side. Skillfully, she shoved it beneath her dress to blanket the upper portion of her thighs, covering up what didn’t need to be seen as she then pulled the skirt up to expose her tummy. Kagome allowed him to look as long as he needed, to feel the skin of her abdomen, to reach around to her back and feel for any bandages or wounds - the both of them ignoring his grunt and wince as he leaned forward for better reach.

“It wasn’t mine.” Kagome swore again, lowering her garment as he sat back against the wall. She discarded the towel and breathed out, ready to relay the events that had unfolded. “The demon came out of nowhere, and grabbed me from behind. My arrows spilled everywhere, so it turned into a head-on fight. I got him pretty good.” She smirked with the hint of pride, raising her right hand as she looked down at her bandaging.

Inuyasha tenderly took her fingers, bringing it closer to him. Her knuckles were wrapped tight, and to his dismay, there was the slightest hint of pink poking through the off-white wrappings. He didn’t release her hand. He didn’t want to. He lightly stroked his thumb over her wound, lowering it to his thigh to hold there as he glanced back at her to get the rest of the story.

“The blood came from me stabbing him. He was on top of me so I used my dagger to get him in the side.”

“With purification?” He inquired.

“Of course.” Kagome answered.

“So, he’s dead?”

The memory of the demon’s body collapsing on top of her lit up in her mind, and her throat tightened. Swallowing thickly to try and subdue the discomfort, to try and keep it all from view so Inuyasha didn’t have that to add to his list of worries as well, Kagome took in a breath and nodded. “Yes. He’s dead.”

The hanyou let that information sink in, remaining quiet as he now held her hand with the both of his. His thumbs played over the bandaging, calloused skin scratching on the cloth’s surface, but when it skimmed down to her soft flesh, he felt a small sense of peace spread over him. So, he kept up that action, over and over rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles and toward the uncovered skin, then back. She took care of herself, just like she’d proved she could. Just like he knew she could. He would have felt better ripping that fucker to shreds, though. He’d said it before and he’ll say it as many times as necessary: no one touches Kagome.

Still, he was extremely proud of her. She held her own and then appeared in the nick of time to help his ass out. What a fucking woman.

“In that case, you look pretty good for someone who went toe-to-toe with a demon.” He lightly chuckled.

“Thank you.” She playfully grinned, raising her shoulders in feigned smugness. “I had to show him who was boss.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you could actually kick my ass.”

“Nah, that guy was just cocky and talked too much. I used all of that against him, pinned him down, and punched him in the face.”

“You punched him in the face?” He laughed, regretting it but that time he was able to properly hide his discomfort.

“Yes!” Kagome tightened the fingers he held. “He had sharp teeth, so it cut my knuckle, that jerk. But, I still got him.”

She was fucking cute as all hell as she raised her left arm and flexed her bicep, the slit in the long sleeves opening to fall away so he could see the definition. It brought the biggest smile to Inuyasha’s face. She really was okay. She was perfect.

“So, I take it you saw?” Inuyasha had to ask, his grin dwindling to a small, careful one. He found himself needing to know what was going through her mind. Why was she so anxious? Sure, it was unpleasant to be separated while he was wounded; he could see himself physically throwing people off of him that tried to keep him away from her had their positions been swapped. But, he remembered the way she looked when she came in last night. He vividly remembered her visible fear, the frown, but worst of all, there was a vague remembrance of her expression this morning. When Wakana woke them up and Kagome noticed his stomach. The way she’d stopped breathing and looked damn close to panicking. Of course, she’d seen the extent of his damage. He’d hoped she hadn’t seen it uncovered. But, had she seen it take place? “Moryomaru, when he… Did you?”

Her own smile faded then, and after a deep breath, she scooted herself a little closer to his torso, careful of how she leaned on his hip. She took one of his hands then, placing it in her lap as she busied herself, running her fingers over the lines of his palm. Brown eyes could no longer meet amber, instead staring down at the trail she left over his skin. It had been impossible to get that image out of her mind. Kagome knew it was something that, much like Shinosuke had mentioned, would stick with her forever. The only reason it wasn’t crippling her was because she knew Inuyasha was alive, and his condition was only improving.

“Yeah,” She breathed. “I saw.”

“Ah, fuck.” Inuyasha groaned. “I was really fucking hoping you hadn’t since you were busy fighting someone.”

“Our fight ended just before.”

“Kid, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Her gaze shot up to his, her upper lip curled in question. “For what?”

“If I had seen that happen to you, I would have lost my mind. I can only imagine what you felt watching that. I didn’t mean to make you worry. Fuck, that’s why you haven’t been eating, isn’t it?”

She softened, allowing her fingers to trail over the veins of his forearm for a moment. When her nail gently skimmed the thin skin of his inner elbow, she noticed a small twitch from him. A tickle spot.

“No, that’s not it.” Kagome admitted, the corners of her lips very subtly raising. “Well, I guess it’s a contribution, but really it’s because I miss you. I should be right next to you so I know you’re okay every second of the day, but I can’t be and I don’t like that. I don’t feel content not hearing you call me an idiot or kid or something mean because you’re unconscious, and not being able to help in any way doesn’t sit right with me. But, I also understand that they’re right to pull me away. You need to rest. And, you wouldn’t with me here.”

She was breaking him. He could feel any remaining borders between them beginning to shatter like glass with each statement she spoke. Her sincerity was his welcomed demise. The power Kagome had over him with her honesty was so much more incredible than Inuyasha could have ever imagined, and his heart climbed into his throat. How did she say that all so easily? How did she brighten even the worst of his days? She missed him.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he caught the sound of walking approaching. Inuyasha outwardly cursed, knowing that it was Wakana coming to force his next dose down his throat and Kagome’s temporary guard coming to take her away. With the remaining seconds he had, he looked back to the conjurer, bringing her right hand to his lips as he kissed her damaged knuckle just before releasing her.

“Sneak back over tonight.”

Kagome’s heart gave a heavy thump inside of her ribcage, damn near bruising the bones in its excitement. With a nervous agreement, Kagome nodded, trying to keep composure as even she caught the footsteps and comprehended his reaction.

The door slid open and in walked Wakana, the housemaid Kagome had threatened the day before, and Shinosuke with his notorious smirk. The housemaid remained by the wall, visibly uncomfortable as she refused to make eye contact with either she or Inuyasha. With a grimace, Kagome’s attention flew over to her companion, silently communicating with an awkward but amused expression that she knew exactly what the girl’s stiffness was about.

Inuyasha read her well. He’d remembered her mentioning she’d almost fought someone to stay with him, and given the housemaids opposition to near either, and Kagome’s humored but ashamed smile, along with the way her eyes flickered between the woman and he, he put two-and-two together. With as much effort he could muster, he tried - really tried - to fight back his laughter. For the sake of the housemaid’s dignity, Kagome’s embarrassment, and his sore abdomen. Still, a small snort left his nose, and he ducked his head to the side to try and further stifle it.

“Matsu, would you mind brewing the tea? Remember, three dashes this time.” Wakana spoke, putting her aid to work. The woman gave a feeble nod, immediately doing as requested but still keeping her head low.

“That woman’s fine whenever you’re not around.” Inuyasha whispered to Kagome, giving a small tug to a section of her free length of hair. Another amused but embarrassed grimace came from her in response as she covered her grin with her hand so that Matsu wouldn’t see how funny this was to her. “You fucking troublemaker.”

“Ready to go?” Shinosuke asked from the doorway.

Kagome peered at him from over her shoulder, curling her upper lip in disdain before turning back to Inuyasha.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.” He ordered quietly just as she began to stand, wagging his finger so she’d lean in closer. As she did, her brows arched in curiosity, he asked, “This guy, is he trustworthy? Do you feel safe with him?”

“Well, he skillfully protected me from a ten year old so far, so he’s not half bad.”

“Seriously, Kagome.” He deadpanned.

“Um, I’m - I’m not lying.” She liked that Inuyasha couldn’t help but crack half a smile there as he rolled his eyes. “He’s attentive, and pretty cool. Likes to joke around, but I can tell he’s serious about his duties. Follows me everywhere -“

“Has he touched you?”

“Yeah, but only appropriately. Unless he’s being a jerk and carrying me out of the room over his shoulder.”

“Like I’m about to.” Shinosuke commented with a chuckle, strutting forward. “You know, you two don’t whisper as quietly as you think you do.”

Inuyasha leveled a glare at the guard as he kneeled right beside Kagome, looking him once over.

“What’s up?” He asked, smiling, unfazed by the clearly unwelcoming attitude the hanyou presented. “Ah, I get it. You don’t know me, so you don’t know if you can trust me with Kagome here. Alright, what would you like to know? Name’s Shinosuke, I’m twenty-four, used to be a chubby kid, favorite color’s red, I like long walks on the beach -“

“Knock it off.” Inuyasha drawled. “You’re not making me like you.”

“Not trying to. That’s not in my pay grade.”

“Shinosuke!” Wakana warned, approaching. “Inuyasha, I’m sorry. He’s got awful people skills, but he is in charge of our guards. With everything you two did for our people, and with how protective papa noticed you were of Kagome, he felt it would give you peace of mind to know our very best was watching over her.”

“Just leave her with me. She’ll be fine. She doesn’t want to go, anyway.”

“And, what’s to happen to her while you’re in your medicinally-induced coma?” Shinosuke challenged, that smug grin never fading.

“Kagome can take care of herself.”

“So, you’d rather she be left alone to worry about you. Alright. Makes my life easier.” He shrugged, rising to a stand.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” Inuyasha ground out through clenched teeth. He turned to Wakana. “I don’t like the mind games he plays.”

Wakana quickly used the back of her hand to slap Shinosuke’s arm, silently reprimanding him with her scowl. The guard winced, grimacing but still laughing.

“What? I got through to him.”

“Just take her.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes pridefully, giving Kagome’s thigh one last stroke of his palm.

“You heard the man. Come on, tiny might.” Shinosuke boasted, reaching to grab the back of Kagome’s dress and lift her up.

“That name again?” She complained, following his leverage and quickly standing.

“By the way, you don’t have to worry about me touching her inappropriately.” He said down to Inuyasha as the half demon ground his jaw uncomfortably. “Not that kind of guy, and I’m pretty sure your girl here would twist my pinky off. Not to mention,” He gestured to Wakana. “Fiancee.”

It took a small moment, but after watching Wakana nod in reassurance, Inuyasha found himself relaxing slightly. He still wasn’t a fan of the fact that someone else was looking over Kagome, but it surprisingly eased him a lot to know that there was no physical or romantic attraction taking place. Especially while Kagome looked as she did now. Inuyasha found his shoulders dropping an inch, his frown lessening, and a nod of acknowledgment coming forward.

Without another word, Shinosuke grabbed Kagome’s shoulders and guided her toward the door, stopping after just a few steps to make her face the incoming housemaid that carried the brewed tea over.

“See, Matsu. She’s harmless.”

The woman tensed considerably and ducked her head, eyes landing on the floor while her hands wrapped around the tray even tighter. Kagome was taken aback by the woman’s trepidation, her jaw dropping as she couldn’t help but look back over at Inuyasha. Never in her life had she caused a single person to fear her as much as this woman currently did. Not even her younger brother took her this seriously.

“She’s harmless!” Shinosuke urged, laughing. Even he was surprised by the housemaid’s reaction.

“She - uh - she killed Moryomaru, sir.” Matsu softly said as a way to prove Kagome was, in fact, not harmless.

“You know what, I’ll give it to you. You’ve got me there.” The guard bobbed his head. “You seem fine around Inuyasha, though.”

Matsu didn’t say anything. She merely stood there, eyes on the tray of herbal tea as she bounced from foot-to-foot.

“You - you realize he’s half demon, don’t you?”

“I am aware, sir.” She answered.

“Kagome, you damn ruffian.” Shinosuke snickered, shoving her toward the exit and away from the apprehensive housemaid. “You’re seriously gonna tell me the nickname’s still undeserved?”

“I’m sorry!” She guffawed, stumbling, once more looking back at Inuyasha as she laughed. The hanyou merely watched her exasperatedly, his large hand swiping down his face as he silently communicated his dumbfounded nature.

“You scarred the poor girl!” Shinosuke jokingly harassed, pushing her out the door.

Just before she disappeared, she shared one last, bright smile with Inuyasha, waving goodbye to him with the promise to see him soon.

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[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 12 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: None

[autolovecraft]

His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about.

You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. Great heavens, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced.

The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree.

Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider.

Birch, before 1881, had been the village undertaker of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible.

Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks.

The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry.

God, what a rage! He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it.

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone.

He was the devil incarnate, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds.

I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was wise in so doing. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four.

He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications.

Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th.

Birch returned over the coffins to the door.

You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Being without superstition, he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever.

His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate.

But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus.

His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer.

[cecilspeaks]

156 - The Trouble with Time

‘tis better to have loved and lost Than to be slowly eaten whilst still alive. There are, on the whole, Many things worse than having loved and lost. Welcome to Night Vale.

Well, listeners, we have all been grappling with the same problem. Time has become normal in Night Vale, or as normal as time ever is. Time is pretty weird everywhere. As a result of this shift in our experience of time, none of us are remaining the same age for centuries anymore. We are aging one year per year, one month per month, one second per precious second. Every moment that passes our skin is less supple. Our mind is less pliant. Our joints ache just a little more.

The entire town is in an uproar, as we are all coming to terms with the idea of getting older. Gym memberships have soared. Everyone is talking at the same time and they’re all recommending green juice diets to each other. The City Council has tried to make ageing illegal, but it turns out this would be unconstitutional as the Supreme Court decided that slow deterioration of the mind and body is an American right.

I myself am not immune to these worries. When I think about what my life would be like after Carlos or, what his life would be like after me… These are the kinds of fears that can’t be shaken off by the light of day. That linger, even after all the shadows of evening have faded. Is love a gift in a finite world? I’d like to think so, but oh, my stomach is in knots. I’m sure your sis too.

And now a word from our sponsors. Afraid of ageing? Terrified of the tides of time? Spooked by the sequential nature of existence? Stop looking at the calendar and moaning. Sure, it may be cathartic to start every morning by picking up your alarm clock and shouting: “You are a murderer! Your numbers are murder weapons! I am the murder victim!” But it’s not helping you out. Instead, try lotion. Just lotion those limbs. Lotion that face. Got any other parts? Lotion them too. Rubbing lotion on yourself won’t stop time. It won’t end the inevitability of death. But when you die, you will be silky smooth, and folks will whispers: “Why, it doesn’t look like they’ve aged a single day.” Buy lotion now and we will send you a box of other things that will not stop you from dying, but will make you feel a little better on your way out the door. Such as fish oil pills, a pair of running shoes, and books with titles like “Get Happy Now, or Else”. Lotion – you can’t stop ageing, so settle on mitigating the surface appearance of ageing. And this has been ma word from our sponsors.

In a new press release, Night Vale resident Leah Shapiro announces the Mariam McDonald memoriam fund. This fund, in honor of the recently deceased Mariam, will be used to finally fulfil Mariam’s lifelong dream, a dream she did not live long enough to see come to fruition: the removal of all sand from the Sand Wastes.  Mariam hated the sand, thought it looked frightfully untidy, and that it made a bad first impression for folks just coming to town. She could often be seen when she was alive out with her broom, dutifully sweeping the dunes into her dustpan, and depositing the result into a black trashbag. Obviously, this was slow going, but Leah has vowed to continue Mariam’s quest. “It’s a stupid wish, a real dumb one,” said Leah. “I hate it! I hate it so much, but I don’t know, it’s what Mariam wanted. And so I feel obligated for some reason to keep after it. God, this sucks!” Leah concluded. According to the press release, the Mariam McDonald Memorial Fund currently contains 3 dollars, and is not taking donations. Well, isn’t that the feelgood story of the year? Good luck, Leah. I do hope you get rid of all that sand. Mariam was right, sand is very untidy.

And now for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. So today, we will be discussing how to tell whether something is a person. Here are simple tests that can be done at home with whatever you find in your parents’ cabinets when they don’t know you’re looking. Does it grow? It’s a person. Does it bend? It’s a person. Is it square or similar to a square? That’s a person. Nodes or nodules? Person. A frank and enticing laugh? Person. Can it hold liquid? Person. Is it a dog? Yup, that’s a person too. That ooze at the back of your closet? Not a person. We don’t know what hat is, best not to touch it, best not to think on it. Perhaps it is the thinking that gives it its power. This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

In response to the current “time is normal” crisis, many companies are moving in to offer services to alleviate ageing. Arby’s is suggesting that a regular diet of roast beef has been shown to extend life expectancy by up to 20 years. When they were asked who showed that and how they did so, Arby’s kind of mumbled and sad that they would have those sources for us soon, but in the meantime, come on down and buy yourself a meal. 

A number of new gyms have opened up in town, promising advanced workouts that will keep the body and mind tiptop. There is an LA Fitness, also a 26 Hour Fitness, which promises workouts at any time day or night, plus two bonus hours every day that are only experienced by members. And local legend Louie Blasko has started what he calls a Crossfit gym, but it appears to be just the burned out remains of his old music store, untouched since the night of the fire. “Oh yeah,” Louie said. “You can really get a good workout in here, believe me.” His eyes flicked back and forth nervously.

A different angle is being taken by newcomer to town, Casper Rhodes. Casper says that he has conquered the ultimate obstacle: death itself. He does this by freezing the brain upon death until it can be resuscitated by advanced technologies of the future. “Cryogenics means never having to say ‘I’m dead’,” Casper declared, whirling around the red cape he wears and wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh yes, this is a completely real technology. Once you die, we simply and safely remove your bran and freeze it in here.” He indicated the disused grain silo on the edge of town. “That thing is full of brains,” he said. “And each of those brains will be reanimated to a bright and beautiful future hundreds of years from now, and you can too, for a mere 10,000 dollars. Payable upfront, no refunds offered.”

Suspicious journalists asked if they could take a peek in the grain silo and see if it was actually full of brains. But Mr. Rhodes blocked the door with his body. “Uh oh uh,” he said. “Opening the door would mess up the, uh, freezing process. Uh, wouldn’t want that to happen. You just have to trust us.” Hmmmmm.

And now traffic. It’s looking pretty clear on the roads right now. There isn’t a single car to be seen. The parking lots are barren, the highways are mere doodles of the gods without the roaring machines that give them purpose. Where did every car disappear to? We wonder this as we walk to work. Walk to school. Learning the limits and the capacity of our own legs, magnificent machines attached to our own bodies that we had long ago discounted, but now can only propel ourselves by the length of them. And then again and again, one after another. The hours pass and we gradually pass through them, and where are the cars? Did they ever exist? The factories where cars once were built are now full of robots with no purpose, arms ending in specialized tools and drills, all designed to construct a thing that no longer is there to be constructed. And so they bob and weave for nothing. In this way, perhaps, it could be said that they are dancing. To take purpose from a movement is to suggest the possibility of art within it, that perhaps the movement could have meaning merely for itself, but I ask again: where are the cars? Where did they go? Every other form of transportation still exists. Planes still claw their way into the stratosphere, while boats wobble on churning seas. Motorcycles even, given the compete freedom of the highway, tearing into the turns and straightaways at dangerous speeds, but no cars. Was it something we did? Is this our fault? At least there’s no traffic, I guess, and we’re all getting a little more time outdoors which is nice and, oh – Nevermind. The cars are back, all of them. Aaaall at once, driverless and speeding. Well, it’s nice to have them back. This has been traffic.

And now for corrections. In a previous editorial aired on this station, a reporter indicated his belief that peanut butter is a type of rock. That reporter sincerely believed, based on a half remembered lesson from elementary school that he now realizes might have actually been a cartoon he watched, that peanut butter along with sedimentary, metamorphic, and ignius was in fact one of the main types of rock. This reported harbored no ill intent when he lectured for what may or may not have been two hours about his belief that peanut butter was a type of rock. This well meaning reporter may have ignored several calls from his scientist husband, who was trying to get through to correct this completely understandable mistake. But the reporter was on such a roll that he didn’t even notice the calls coming in. Which could happen to anyone. The reporter may have even printed up posters for local schools showing the types of rock, with peanut butter prominently included. If that is the case, these schools should feel free to return the erroneous posters, or keep them, if they feel it might be in some way educational. In any case, the reporter in question regrets the error and now amidst that maybe, peanut butter isn’t a type of rock. Maybe that’s true. Decide for yourself. This has been corrections.

Casper Rhodes and his Quality Cryogenics Corporation continue to advertise their dubious service all over town. He has bought a billboard next to the Waterfront Recreation Area declaring: “A new life awaits you in the future”, with a picture of a disembodied brain that is somehow both smiling an giving a thumbs up, despite its lack of hands and mouth. The Quality Cryogenics Corporation strung a banner along the top of the disused grain silo on the edge of town saying the name of the company. Except the word “quality” has been misspelled, as has “corporation”. Listeners, I am not one to editorialize, not after the recent peanut butter debacle we’ve heard so much about. But it does not seem to me that this Mr. Rhodes is on the up and up. Nothing about this strikes me as a scientific operation, and trust me, I know from scientific operations. Despite these warning signs, a few people have in fact taken them up on their offer, including weekday shift managers at the Ralphs, Charlie Bear, whose lifetime ambition of becoming a ghost has recently curdled into a frantic fear of death. “I thought we had eternity. Now every minute spent is a minute lost,” Charlie said to me when I asked him if they had any more cilantro. So that was a bummer on my afternoon. I must warn everyone not to buy into this Casper charlatan’s lies. Cryogenically freezing brains is not going to save you. In fact, it is time for me to bust this scam wide open. I will sneak into the disused grain silo, and I will tel you what is inside. Then all of us will know the truth.

As I head over there, Let’s all head over To the weather.

[“Revolution Lover” by Left At London http://leftatlondon.com]

OK, listeners I’m.. hold on. This portable recording rig is just a little heavy. Whoo! I have got to get back to my weight training. I was deadlifting as much as 15 pounds, and now look at me.

OK, I am looking up at the towering disused grain silo on the edge of town. The silo that one Casper Rhodes would claim contains cryogenically frozen brains, destined to be reawakened in the future. Well, I’m sure Mr. Rhodes, but allow me to just check in on it myself. The door to the silo is locked with a padlock and heavy chain. Fortunately, I don’t go anywhere without my Special Reporter’s welding torch. It comes in handy more than you’d think. [welding noises] And off it goes. Another win for the first amendment. Listeners, I am opening the heavy metal doors [creaking], and inside it is dark even in this late afternoon sun. I am stepping in. [voice echoing] My eyes are adjusting and oh my god! Listeners, oh my god! The tanks are full, frozen intact human brains, attached to various support equipment, it is all completely clean and seemingly running well, this – this isn’t a scam! The great Casper Rhodes is telling the truth! Death is now voluntary, aging is meaningless! We will all see the future! We will ALL see the future!

Listeners, I must go, I must talk to my husband. We could be together forever, don’t you see? A new world awaits us in the future! I must talk to Carlos, I must! [equipment drops]

Today’s proverb: On one hand, you have skin. On the other hand, you don’t- oh man, what happened to that hand?!!

[theateared]

I Have a Right to be Angry.

Summary:  Edgar is a malicious bastard that likes to play with his food. 

    Hunters weren’t commonplace in No-Man’s, but occasionally they would attempt to breach the chaotic sanctity of the woodland.  Most weren’t from Huron but Vide.  Their ignorance often made them easy targets for predators.  Not knowing that paths changed and trees shifted had them falling into the maws of the hungry, or the clutches of the bored.  Edgar was a strange blend of both.  His hunger was a ravenous, hateful thing, a feeling that defied reasonable explanation, but it wasn’t permanent.  His boredom, on the other hand, was a source of perpetual frustration.  Whatever he could do to alleviate it, he did.

    “I’ve got you this time--”   As the lye wove his way around a tree, arrow narrowly missing his hind leg, the hunter grunted with frustration.     “You fucker! Stay still!”

   As if I’m going to wait for you to impale me, Edgar thought, body folding neatly into a sitting position atop a thick branch.  He’d been toying with this man for the better part of an hour now, luring him further and further away from the path.  He was sure that, had his coat not been such a lucrative sale for collectors, the man wouldn’t even have bothered following him.  His fun stemmed from the fact that lyes were a coveted kill.

    The man loaded his weapon once more, aiming at him before releasing it.  Edgar stepped nimbly to the side.  It was a taunt in itself, how little he moved in order to evade it, and he watched as the hunter’s face contorted into an ugly sneer of rage.  What he could only assume was a fierce expletive in the Vider’s native tongue was hurled at him before another arrow was shot.  His anger made his aim worse, projectile sailing over the small feline’s head after he flattened his ears.

    “You cocky little--  I’m gonna wear your fuckin’ guts like a scarf, I swear to the Gods--”

    His next shot flew straight, as if powered by indignation.  It would have been a direct hit had Edgar not twisted his body and caught it using his iron-cast tail.  He allowed his wide sideways step to send him plummeting towards the ground, though what connected with the earth was a pair of feet, now lanky, human-esque form smothered by shadow before he stepped forward into the light of the clearing.

    “Very creative,”     Edgar mused with a grin, tail curling around his legs, arrow still clutched firmly.  After a moment of silence, the appendage snapped it in half.     “But I’m afraid there will be no scarf.”

    The hunter was more confused than afraid, brow knitted hard, lips parting several times in vain attempts to speak.  Eventually, he settled on a baffled:     “Wh-What the hell is goin’ on…?”

    “What?”     Edgar allowed himself to snicker before feigning shock.     “You didn’t know that lyes could swap forms?  My, my…   you really should study your game more effectively!  How embarrassing for you!”    Crimson eyes landed on his empty quiver.     “...it would seem you’re out of ammunition, too.  How unfortunate.”

    He knew that his expression alone was intimidating the hunter.  He imagined that it was beginning to dawn on him:  what a horribly precarious situation he found himself in.  The man took a small step back, his bravado suddenly turning tail.  It was amazing how quickly people shrunk to their original size when their weapons were removed from the picture.

    “What’s this?  Are you running?”     Edgar lunged as the other attempted to retreat, long tail darting forwards and getting caught in his legs.  He stumbled to the ground gracelessly, breathing hard as he fumbled around for a means of defending himself.  Anything would suffice at that point;  a dull rock;  a sharp stick;  a spare arrow that had fallen from his quiver when he’d been tripped…  but all he found was plush grass and leaves.     “You were so full of energy just minutes ago!  Where has your fight gone?”     Along with your arrows, I presume.

    He watched the man’s face fall slack with terror as he gazed up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.  Without a weapon, he had no way of fighting him off.  To engage in combat using only his hands when his opponent was a lye was suicide in itself.  His best  -  and perhaps only  -  option was to act as pathetically as possible.  He huddled there on the ground, silent and small, the booming shouts that had left him just minutes ago now a boisterous memory.  Being completely at the mercy of a creature known for its ruthless appetite was nothing short of heart-stopping.

    Edgar didn’t fit the bill in a conventional sense.  Though his human form was tall and imposing, his body was thin, abnormally so, limbs long and lanky.  Hell, had he not had such a terrifying set of jaws, the hunter would have thought that the ears atop his head made him look ridiculous.  However, the shadow they cast across his face as he stared down at him made him feel nauseous with fear.  He wasn’t an outwardly ugly-looking fellow, but there was just enough wrong with him to take a trip into the uncanny valley.  Eyes too red.  Fingers too animal.  Teeth too sharp.

    “Truly disappointing…”     The lye muttered, one hand curling into a loose fist.  His nails more closely resembled claws, and the way he observed one boredly would have seemed flippant had his reputation not been looming over him like a dark cloud.     “I went to all this trouble to play with you and now you won’t even partake!  You really were a waste of time.”     He tutted, one arm sweeping wide as he gestured to the quiet clearing.     “Look around.  You’re all alone out here.  You followed me like a dog  -  strayed from that path like it was your job.  It was endearing at first.  Now I’m beginning to find it irritating.”

    “Don’t…   don’t be angry with me--  d-don’t--”

    “I have a right to be angry, you spineless waste,”     Edgar crooned, bending at the waist as if his spine was made of elastic.  His face was close, razor teeth but a breath away.     “You come to my doorstep, arrows flying, curses a-plenty--  anybody would be affronted by such tasteless behaviour.”     He paused, unimpressed frown slowly curling into a devious smile.  A hand raised up to the hunter’s face, thumb and forefinger gently squeezing at his chin, forcing him to look up at him.  It would be so easy…  I could spit poison into your eyes without even blinking.  I could burn a hole through your skull just because I felt like it.  I could snap your neck like a twig with just my teeth.     “...but fear not.  I’m not hungry.  I won’t kill you.”

    That brief pang of relief was almost as tantalising as your fear.

    “Y-You…  you won’t?”

    The chuckle that Edgar let out was low and mirthless, one claw slowly dragging across his cheek.  A small cut opened up, tiny beads of blood beginning to drip down his chin.  The smell was slow to enter the air, though when it did it was unmistakable.  That familiar metallic aroma had an ache stirring in the predator’s stomach.   He watched the hunter’s brow furrow with confusion, that intoxicating terror returning in full force.  Fear always smelled its most divine when it had flirted briefly with hope.

    “I won’t.”

    In the near distance, a small group of glowing lights appeared.  It took a moment for the hunter to realise what he was staring at:  three pairs of eyes, those of which most certainly belonged to Edgar’s pack.  When the penny finally dropped, Edgar was treated to a chaotic display of clumsiness, upper body straightening as the man wrenched himself free, tearing into the forest. He felt his suit jacket billow around him like a sheet when three bloodthirsty lyes darted past him, giving chase.  It was as if Lucifer had let his hellhounds loose.

    It wasn’t long until he heard screaming.  The noise was stark against the still night, cacophony of sound enough to reach even the most untrained of ears.  Slowly, it began to dissipate, wailing dimming into distant whimpering, then a stagnant silence.  Edgar waited a while, standing in the clearing as if rooted to the spot, claws scraping gently together in an attempt to occupy himself. Only when his packmates returned, mouths bloody and fur dishevelled but ultimately satisfied, did the alpha think to leave.  He followed them like a sheepdog rearing its flock, sending them all further into the shadows.  At one point, his human body melted away, mock-feline taking its place as they vanished into the night.

                    Hilarious, he thought to himself.  How quickly the over-confident fall.

[jackbabewang]

03 | In the woods

Snow white and the huntsman au (?)

1,758 words

The Queen, your stepmother, who seized control of her kingdom by marrying and killing its rightful ruler, needs the life force of young maidens to maintain her beauty. However, to become truly immortal, she must consume the heart of yours.

When it reached her ears that you had escaped from the castle, she called the guards and sent them out to search with strict instructions not to return back with empty hands.

You had fled into the woods, threading your way down animal paths, dipping below branches and gliding over fallen trees, as determined to stay far away from the maze of death but to where, to how far you have to run to? Adrenaline powered your angst and quickened your pace. You looked over your shoulder to be sure the guards were out of sight, caught unaware and then you bumped into something solid. The sudden change in momentum sent you tumbling backward until you plummeted to the ground. 

“Oh, dear-” 

The man’s apology was cut short when you heard the sound of metal armor plates rubbed together, patter and crunch running through dead leaves, whinnying of horses in the distance. Panic took over and you pushed yourself to your feet and continued your sprint. The success of the entire escape rested on your shoulders, and this stranger who got in your way. You had to make it.

“Hey! Why are we running?”

“Keep it down!” 

You hissed like an angry snake, head whipping from side to side as you searched for a hiding place. You saw the dark mouth of a cave and staggered to it, hiding yourselves in its inky blackness. Your legs gave out, and as you sank to the ground, the stranger sank with you, guiding your fall, never letting go of your intertwined hands. Your body trembling, face flushed and glowing, pieces of hair flying everywhere, lips parted as you panted and tried to catch your breath. 

“What— what just happened?” he mused.

You lifted your eyes to stare at him, studying him, then you felt a hysterical giggle bubbled up. All your troubles were in your chest and throat. “Thank God,” you breathed out as you leaned against the ragged edge of the wall. 

It was his turn to look at you now, his eyes scanning over your entire body. “Are you running away?” It was quite obvious that you were. What does one do with a stray girl in the middle of the woods. He said, “You’re running away, aren’t you? Why?” It wasn’t in the least what he had meant to say. 

The soft, orange light of early sunset shone on your face. It looked sad and rather tired. You said very earnestly, “I’ve got to — I really have.” 

“Why?”

You considered. You could not risk exposing yourself to huge danger by telling him the truth. “Responsibility.” 

How irony.

You had clearly stated to him when he had asked for your reason, and he could not help but chuckle at your answer. “I see your point. However,” then he stood up and was brushing himself off. “I should be heading home now, miss. It’s getting late.” 

You kept your face calm, but your mind was racing ahead, planning, calculating. “W-wait! You can’t leave!”

“And why is that?” he cocked an amused eyebrow at you. 

If it was not that you stumbled upon him, you would be alone right now. The consequences had not been considered when you exited the castle gates. 

“You’re gonna get to the guards and tell them about me.” You were afraid of the dark, of what you could not see, of what would attack. 

He could only look at you for a moment in disbelief, wondering what exactly happened which had you desperately wanting to keep yourself away from that dreadful place you came from. He sighed—It was not the sigh of one who saw distress he could not alleviate, or of one who regrets that he is called on to help, but—It was the sigh of sympathy. 

“Alright,” he surrendered unconditionally. Perhaps, you did not realize what an effect your puppy-dog eyes had on him. Perhaps, he would keep that as another one of his secrets. He nodded, coming back to the same position in front of the cave entrance where you were quick to halt his step. 

“I’m going to look for some branches just outside.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He had to roll his eyes at your persistence, “No, stay here. I promise I’m not running away and I’ll be back as quick as I can.” You could not deny the sincerity you had seen in him. And for the third time, you stopped him in mid-track, you realized you did not even know his name. 

“It’s Jaehyun,” he smiled a perfect smile. 

Deepening shadows all around you, growing blacker as the minutes passed. Soon it would be night, somewhere around eight o’clock. Dark outside. Darker inside. There was not much more you could do now except wait. 

All of your worries vanished when he returned with branches of all sizes in his arms, enough to keep yourselves warm throughout the cold night. 

He dumped the firewood in a heap and you watched him used his knife point to dig a tiny hole in a piece of white, tinder-dry driftwood that had been lying beside the creek for ages. He sharpened the point of a straight little branch, then shaved off tiny slivers of wood shavings which he piled around the stick in the hole. Vigorously he rolled the stick as fast as he could between his two palms until smoke started to rise from within the hole. 

“Now you try it,” he said, offering you the fire stick. You mimicked his movements and found out it was hard work to keep rolling that stick. You are beginning to doubt that it would work when a tiny plume of smoke began to rise. 

“That’s it!” He exclaimed encouragingly. “You’ve got it going. Don’t give up now.” He made more shavings to the wood while you kept twirling the hard stick. Soon a flame started to rise. A glint of amusement was in your eyes, amazed at seeing how the little fire that was now blazing up the branches. 

Glorious red, orange, gold flames flickered and danced, illuminating the cavern, accentuated the surrounding darkness. Jaehyun’s eyes widened, momentarily, stunned as he looked at something behind your shoulder. A second later, you realized why. You screamed, and your scream echoed in the cave. You shuffled backwards, scraping your hands and legs on the rough stone floor, until your back collided into him. You had felt relieved by his presence but you swore your heart skipped a beat out of fear.

“Someone must have lived here long ago,” he said above your head, then you registered you had practically slumped into his lap. 

He studied your features for a long moment, telling himself it was not really an invasion of privacy. The delicate straight nose, the stubborn chin, the high cheekbones. Your lashes were dark, and fanned like tangled back shadows against your cheeks tinged with a modest blush. He gazed at your slender neck with its light blue and pink veins that quivered as you spoke. He had not been listening. 

“Beautiful,” which was so natural and simple, he whispered. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you found yourself unable to quell the fast growing affection for him. You looked away slightly, shaking your head a little. That’s not happening, you thought to yourself.

Unexpectedly, he gently placed the tip of his finger under your chin and lifted your face to his. The way he locked gazes with you, searching your eyes, did nothing to allay the dizzying sensation. Your breath felt as if it had become solid in your throat as you held it. And then everything else, your surroundings, it just faded into the background like so much inconsequential scenery. You were acutely aware of your heart and the ramped-up rhythm it had attained. He lowered his mouth to yours and ever so lightly, grazed his lips against yours, once and then again, so lightly that it felt more like teasing. 

“What made you believe that I’m a man of nobility, princess?” he said huskily, delicate flesh caressing the very top of your Cupid’s bow. He had known your identity all along.

Cold metal felt against your neck. At first it seemed like nothing, but then the prod was pressed into your skin. You gasped and flinched, your eyes shot wide open. 

“You protected me…” 

The blade traced the contours of your throat, the ridge of your collarbone, and it dragged down your chest. With a flick of his wrist, the thread snapped, and a button rolled across the ground. 

“If I said I was dispatched by the Queen, and here you are… with me?” 

“I trusted you.” 

He smirked, “You really do?” 

But, before you could utter a word, his lips descended upon yours in his mind numbing kiss that left you breathless. He dropped the knife, it fell clattering off the rocks and his strong hand reached over to gently cup your face. His lips tasted yours as though you were all sweetness, and he sucked at them and traced them with his tongue until your mouth melted into his.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice ragged, and you realized he was shaking, as he pressed you to him and kissed you over and over.

Something in your consciousness finally broke through the haze. You wanted to be in his arms forever, but a moment of reality broke through the craziness and stopped you. Just moments ago he had threatened to kill you, had fully intended to kill you; yet he desired you and wished to keep you alive.  

You were pulled from your thoughts when your stomach growled audibly. You heard him chuckled at the sound of your blatant need for food. “I guess it’s time to feed you.” 

He reached into a small burlap sack and dug around inside it. He pulled out an apple; you saw that the bag contents also included plums and hardy kiwis. He must have picked the fruits when he went to gather firewood. You grabbed the round fruit of brilliant red, rubbed it on your sleeve and took a bite. It was wonderful. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It had a tinge of tart to it after chewing for a bit. It was one of the best… probably

I want to strangle kim for this photo.

Here’s to a writing game I’ve proposed with @icedcappujaeno, do check out what I had her to work on! Link

[aballpitofsin]

Okay, can I also get family, obsession, exhaustion, aaaaaaand (god I feel like I'm in a drive thru rn) a side of lost?

Rek’yrs song lifted into the sky to be carried away with the rest, filling the wellspring. Many Dousan had come to return the old Sandmaster to Thra, to remember the man he had been, and to see the cycle of life and death once more completed. For that was the way of their people, but even so Rek’yr could not shake the weight from his chest as he watched the last rites of his Father’s funeral carried out before him. 

Then it was over,

The mourners dispersed.

Some remained to offer their condolences or to speak of the man his father had been…but soon they too left. Death and Life were an eternal cycle. Death was not to be feared, for all things returned to Thra in the end. Rek’yr knew this just as he knew the aching in his chest was natural, but that did not make his want to alleviate it less. 

His father was gone. 

With all the grace he could put forth the Sandmaster returned to his ship and his room, the weight nearly dragging him to the floor as he closed the door behind him. In spite of his grief the Dousan was not so lost to his despair that the figure in his room went unnoticed. Exhaustion betrayed by his voice, he spoke to the one looming in the shadows. “Hunter,” 

“Rek’yr. ” Growled the shadows, the figure at last stepping forward, hunched over for how tall he was…the bones on his shoulders threatening to scrape the ceiling. “You reek of death” 

“How are you here Skekmal?” The Dousan was in no mood to entertain, moving away from the other to begin to remove his boots. At the very least he knew it was unlikely that he would be disturbed, the chances of Skekmal being caught, and thus causing trouble were unlikely. To his right the Skeksis huffed, tail dragging against the floor. 

“Easy enough to hide away on one of these boats of yours, easy enough to keep out of sight. I am the hunter, what would I be if my prey saw me stalking them?” Skekmal growled and crept closer…Rek’yrs quarters were by no means small but even still the hunter filled a good part of it. “I listen, and I watch…you wouldn’t believe the things people say when they think no one else is listening. Gossiping about a dying Sandmaster, and then you come reeking of death and sickness.” 

Skekmal was closer now. “It was only a matter of time and waiting, and then watching for the chance to sneak aboard once the ships turned for the wellspring.” The Hunter appeared as if he might say more, one clawed hand twitching towards Rek’yr, yet the Dousan stopped him. 

“Why have you come here Hunter?” Rek’yr met Skekmals gaze, turning with him as Skekmal began to circle about him.

“I go where I please.”  Skekmal raised a talon to tap at one of the many skull charms that rested on a nearby shelf. Appraising it before distracted by the ruffling of sheets, turning his head to see the Dousan climbing into bed despite the lingering twilight.

Turning over the Sandmaster watched as the Hunter loomed closer. “When will you leave?” 

“When I feel like it,” he replied, obtusely, and sat down. 

Silence grew between them for some time and the room grew darker as the three sisters slipped further beyond the horizon. “He was my father.” 

Skekmal said nothing, merely leaning back slightly, waiting for Rek’yr to continue. Staring at his own hand the Sandmaster recalled how weak his father’s body had become, sickness and age making every day just a little more difficult. “He was in pain and now he is not… he has returned to Thra… but he was all I had left…” 

Sharply, wetly, Rek’yr sucked in air and held his breath and when he released it his eyes were damp. Skekmal’s back had turned to face him and a new sound filled the room, the Skeksis was carving something but Rek’yr could not see what. “Hunter?” 

“Go to sleep Rek’yr.” 

The gentle scrape of metal against bone filled the room, taking all of Rek’yrs words away. Exhaustion washed over him anew and dragged any remaining protest the Sandmaster might have had…rolling over unceremoniously, he soon found himself in a deep, empty sleep.

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

Part two of Sabrina’s angsty, then fluff induced pregnancy story!

I honestly did not expect that, for one of the least liked characters in the series, that I would feel absolutely heartbroken and grieved by the first part. But I was, and oh for the love of all the gods, did I feel horrible this morning. It also didn’t help that I was up until 3am writing the first part, lol

Anyways, this will be a much happier part.

And, to reiterate from the first part, thank you again @enid--an-gleanna for helping me brainstorm!

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Sabrina didn’t know what to expect from her pregnancy, and had shared her concerns with Yenna, who insisted that her daughter, Lavinia, should stay with Sabrina to keep her company and to monitor her pregnancy. Lavinia had, of course, protested to her mother’s declaration, but after some coaxing from both Ciri and Geralt, and meeting Sabrina in person, she relented and agreed to stay with the red-haired sorceress.

Sabrina had just woken for the day, her body stiff with sore muscles and aches from carrying the little one for the past eight months, but she was glowing as she stepped out into the living area, her eyes scanning for her friend’s daughter. The clang of steel outside caught her attention, and she made her way to the front door to peek outside, catching sight of said daughter hacking into a practice dummy that was enchanted to fight back as if it were a real person.

Sabrina was captivated by Lavinia’s movements, how much she had inherited her mother’s grace while still taking on her father’s trade, the way she moved around the dummy, parrying each swing and cheap hit, how she ducked and dived and how she danced through each counterattack as if it were nothing to her. She tore her eyes away for a moment to glance down at her swollen belly.

“I only hope that I can raise you to be that strong and independent.” She spoke, her voice low, as she ran her hand over the swell, resting it beneath the curve as she leaned against the doorframe.

It was at that point where Lavinia caught sight of her, unenchanting the dummy before glancing over to her, her breathing slightly quickened from her morning practice.

“I’m sorry. I... I didn’t mean to spy.” Sabrina quickly spoke, trying to convey her apologies to the young woman before her. Lavinia shook her head, a playful smirk on her lips.

“I’m not worried about that. I’m more concerned that you’re up and walking about when you should be resting. You’re due at practically any time, and the last thing I would like to find is you lying on the floor when you could be in bed.” Lavinia chastised, making her way to Sabrina’s side.

“But--”

“Besides, mother would kill me if she were to appear and see that I’ve neglected to uphold my end of our deal.” She gently took Sabrina’s arm and lead her back into the living room, easing her down onto the couch. “And I make it a point to never have to receive a verbal, or magical, thrashing from my mother.”

Sabrina chuckled at that, the mood lightening as she relaxed into the cushions and pillow behind her. She watched as Lavinia made her way over to the bookshelf, her hand lingering over the exposed spines of the books before turning her head to look back at Sabrina.

“Which book would you like today?”

“The one from yesterday, which I swear I left sitting over here on the table.”

“You did, I just put it back on the shelf after bringing you to bed last night.”

She grabbed the book, bringing it over to Sabrina and handing it off before asking what she would like for breakfast. She disappeared into the kitchen then, and reappeared a few minutes later with a cup of tea in her hands. Sabrina looked at her with confusion as she accepted the offered glass.

“It’s lavender and oat straw. It’s meant to help alleviate any symptoms of insomnia, which I know can develop over the course of a pregnancy, and anxiousness. This last month is where that all culminates together, so it’s important that I have you drink this infusion daily. Not only that, but the oat straw in incredibly high in calcium and magnesium, and is therefore very healthy for you, especially when it’s infused in a tea.”

“Wow... I’m impressed.” Sabrina spoke, her expression sincere as she looked up at Lavinia. “Where did you learn that?”

“Margarita.”

The admission brought laughter from Sabrina, and Lavinia soon after, both of them settling in as they ate breakfast in the living room. When they were both done, Lavinia gathered their dishes and disappeared into the kitchen once more, leaving Sabrina to her book.

She couldn’t focus on the words, and after several failed attempts, closed the book and placed it on the table beside her, rubbing at her temples to ease her racing thoughts. She had allowed her mind to travel more than once back to the night that she had been assaulted, and it had severely dampened her mood, leaving her depressed and bedridden for several days, unable to even eat small bites of food, and leaving Lavinia no choice but to forcefully encourage her to eat by sitting at her side until she finally relented and ate several bites from the plate. She brought her arms down to her belly, cradling it as she reclined against the couch cushions.

“You are a blessing from a terrible action... I can only hope that I will be able to look at you and not see him... To care for you without the fear of seeing his face reflected in yours.”

A few soft kicks pressed against her arms, and she let out a small laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks. Lavinia returned then, catching sight of the troubled woman. She approached slowly, having heard the story of what had transpired, and sat down beside her, gently placing her hand on her shoulder. Sabrina flinched at first, but sensed Lavinia beside her, and allowed her body to relax. She turned her gaze to the girl, a sad smile coming to her lips.

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be.” Lavinia replied, her voice soft as she tenderly took Sabrina’s hand in hers. “You are allowed to feel what you feel... No one is telling you otherwise. The only thing I will point out is that you are suffering in silence. If ever you want to talk, I will listen.”

Sabrina broke, spilling out all of her fears and worries from the past eight months, telling Lavinia how fearful it was to think that her baby would look like the man who had assaulted her, how terrified she was to raise the baby alone, how lonely it had been for her as she went through the whole pregnancy without support outside of Lavinia and her family. She shared how terrified she was to face the pain of childbirth, and how scared she was of being alone when she went into labor. Lavinia moved from the couch and kneeled down before Sabrina, gently taking her hands in hers, resting them against the swell of her belly.

“Will you do me a single favor?” She asked, her lilac eyes gazing up into Sabrina’s dark brown.

“I... I suppose I could...”

“Believe in yourself.”

Sabrina stopped, staring directly into Lavinia’s eyes as she processed what the young woman had just said to her. She blinked a few times, then questioned Lavinia.

“Believe in yourself.” She replied, gently squeezing Sabrina’s hands. “You’ll make a fine mother. You’re more than capable of raising the baby, and mother has offered to help in any way that she can. Plus, I know you have stayed in contact with the Lodge, and there are some with children of their own. You will be fine. You will be okay.”

Lavinia stood from the floor and moved over to gaze out of the window, her own mind clouded with a few stray thoughts, before she turned back to Sabrina.

“Over the last few months that I’ve stayed here, I’ve gotten to know you fairly well. Having watched my own mother deal with dad being gone for many extended days on contracts, and knowing just how much of her pregnancy with my brother he missed out on, I can see how alone you feel. So I’d like to make you an offer, a child to a mother.”

Sabrina gazed at her with confusion, still wiping the tears from her cheeks, before nodding her head for Lavinia to continue. Lavinia came before her once more, dropping again to a knee as she gazed up into Sabrina’s eyes.

Lavinia offered her a smile, her eyes glittering in the morning light, before wrapping her arms around Sabrina’s waist, her ear pressed against the swell of her belly. New tears spilled down Sabrina’s cheeks, one hand covering her mouth as the other came to rest on Lavinia’s shoulder. Nia tilted her head up, gazing into Sabrina’s eyes with the smile still on her face.

“Will you allow me to stand in as an unofficial older sister? Will you take me as your unofficial daughter?”

“Of course I will.” Sabrina cried, her arms outstretched to gather Lavinia into a hug, which the latter accepted. “You’ve just made me... The happiest I’ve been in months.”

“I’m glad... Mom.” Nia replied, her smile mirroring Sabrina’s.

The afternoon passed by in a complete blur, and soon the moon hung in the sky above the cottage. Nia glanced outside, gazing up at the constellations that littered the darkness, a soft sigh passing her lips.

“What’s wrong, Lavinia?” Sabrina asked, struggling to her feet before making her way to Lavinia’s side.

“The placement of the constellations...” She whispered, her eyes locked on the sky. “The crescent moon... It all signalizes change.”

Sabrina gazed up as well, but she didn’t have the same grasp of astronomy as Lavinia did, so she simply admired the purity of the night sky. She took hold of Nia’s arm, giving it a light squeeze to break the girl from her trance. Nia glanced over to her, her eyes searching Sabrina’s as she looked at her, before finally shaking free of her trance.

“Sorry... The night sky is usually a comfort for me.” She whispered, her hand coming to cover Sabrina’s.

“Why don’t we call it a night, hmm? Some sleep will clear your head.”

Nia nodded her head in agreement and walked with Sabrina down to her bedroom, where she helped her ready herself for bed with the snap of her fingers. She helped Sabrina lower herself onto her mattress before she eased her back into the pillows, bidding her goodnight before she began to walk towards the bedroom door.

“Lavinia... Wait.” Sabrina called, her voice soft as she gazed at Nia’s back. She stopped and turned to face Sabrina, confusion in her eyes.

“What is it?” She asked, returning to Sabrina’s side.

“I... I don’t want to be alone tonight...” Sabrina replied, her voice soft as she looked up at Lavinia. “I don’t know why... But I don’t want to be alone.”

“It’s okay... Let me change first and I’ll come right back. Okay?”

“Okay.” Sabrina breathed, trying to make herself comfortable against the pillows behind her.

Her back was acting up, and every little movement seemed to trigger some response from the already tense muscles. She tried to place some of the pressure onto one hip, which aggravated her back, then tried the other, but to no avail. Every twinge that could ripple across her muscles did, so she gave up and settled back as best she could against the pillows. She gingerly ran her hand over the swell of her belly, since the little one was now kicking like crazy. She took some deep breaths to steady her racing heart, but it wasn’t helping. Lavinia returned at that moment, seeing her as she was. A flash of panic crossed her face, followed by fear, until she settled back into a more neutral expression. She made her way to Sabrina’s side, climbing up on the bed beside her and placing her palm against her belly, her eyes glossing over as she entered a trance-like state.

Sabrina watched her for a moment, the kicks of the baby slowing to a dull pain, rather than the intensity they had been before. Lavinia snapped out of her trance and gazed down at her.

“I must contact mother. She should be here.”

“What? Why?” Sabrina asked, taking Lavinia’s wrist before she could leave.

“Because you’ve started to go into labor, and I am in no position to deliver my unofficial sibling.”

Sabrina’s eyes widened, shock washing over her before a small contraction set in. She pressed her hand to the spot, fear replacing shock, and looked to Lavinia for support. Nia came to her side immediately, her own hand placed over Sabrina’s as the contraction passed, leaving her just minutes to connect with Yen. Through their telepathic link, Lavinia was able to update Yen and urge her to come as quickly as she could. She informed Nia that she would be bringing Geralt with her, to which Lavinia said to do what she must, but to come soon.

The familiar hum of electricity came to her ears minutes later, and she watched the front door down the hall expectantly, waiting for her family to come in. Sabrina yelped in pain then, squeezing Nia’s hand as a painful contraction set in. Nia offered her support, returning Sabrina’s hold while gently brushing her hair back from her face.

Yen and Geralt walked in moments later, much to the relief of both Sabrina and Nia. Yen instructed Nia to gather a few supplies, and told Geralt to help her settle in against the pillows. When Nia returned, Yen asked her to pull Sabrina’s hair back from her face, and she did, putting it up into a ponytail to keep it from sticking to her skin.

“Nia, Geralt, sit with her and keep her calm.” Yen spoke, glancing between her husband and daughter.

Both did as they were told while Yen coached Sabrina as she delivered the babe. Her labor was long, painful, and taxing to her body, but she persevered and pushed through until the sounds of her crying newborn rang through the room. She collapsed back against the pillows, her breathing ragged and shallow, gazing down at Yennefer as she swaddled the babe in clean linens.

“It’s a girl, Sabrina.” She spoke, lifting the newborn up so that Sabrina could see her.

She saw the tuft of red hair and her pale skin, and breathed a soft sigh of relief that she hadn’t inherited anything from the man who had sired her. She stretched her arms out towards the infant, and Yenna gently laid her in her arms, easing her down towards Sabrina’s chest. The soothing sound of Sabrina’s heartbeat lulled the baby girl until she stopped crying, opening her bleary eyes to gaze up at the foggy world around her. Sabrina gasped then, fear coming to her face as she gazed down into her daughter’s piercing green eyes.

“Sabrina... Hush... Shhh…. It’s okay.” Yen soothed, her hands on Sabrina’s knees as she spoke, gaining the sorceresses gaze. “Everything else about her is you. Her eyes mean nothing when your traits outweigh his.”

“But--”

“No buts, Sabrina. Take a few deep breaths and look back down at her. Actually see your baby.”

Sabrina did as she was told, steadying her heartbeat as she breathed. When she had calmed back down, she brought her gaze back down to the squirming infant in her arms, taking in the sight of her. It was only then that she saw her daughter, and not just the product of assault.

“She’s... She’s so beautiful...” She breathed, tracing her finger over the girl’s arm.

“She certainly is.” Yen replied, watching as Sabrina fawned over the baby in her arms. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Lavinia helped me decide on a few several weeks back, and I know which one fits her best.”

“Which one did you pick?” Nia asked, gazing down at the newborn with fascination.

“Renna.” She cuddled the girl close to her chest, her happiness radiating off of her. “Welcome to the world, my little flame.”

[eleart2019]

A simple case of exhaustion - a vampire story

She was very surprised about that, but the cold remained, the sweating continued…her pallor was almost ghastly. She examined her reflection in the mirror, if she looked very pale and felt cold, she didn’t look ill at all, strangely, the young woman who looked at herself was…beautiful. Somehow, this illness had enhanced some quality, she couldn’t say what, but the body looked toned, athletic now, her eyes, pretty in normal circumstances, sparkled. Her hair was fuller…so it seemed to her, shiny, voluptuous…ah. A bit of bed sheet action, can do that for you and more…she examined the blemish on her neck…it had almost completely healed.

She was cold, very cold. She stumbled to the bed, an incredible pain, running through her whole body it seemed, from her spine down, hit her like an éclair and she screamed in pain, except, not a scream came out, but a beastly growl, a guttural, low, animal noise which took her aback, even in pain as she was.

She kneeled on the floor, bent in two, in foetal position, when again pain run through her, but this time she managed to control her voice, and wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, as no tears would come out of her eyes. The pain was so intense, so lasting, that the five minutes this continued were to Nat like an hour: but it did end, leaving her exhausted, on the floor, in a cold sweat…she lay there for quite a while, not even able to feel panic anymore, so consumed by the pain she had been. She lost consciousness then, and there was really nothing she could do about that…still strangely lucid, the last thought she recalled was that this was her death, she was watching her death.

But she did wake up…feeling nauseous again. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, and as she stood up she realised that she could walk freely, so she grabbed some clean clothes, brushed her hair and refreshed her face-so pale! –ready to go to hospital, for a full examination and maybe a solution to this problematic illness.

“It’s most likely a case of exhaustion, brought by intense study and a very rich schedule…I see here, Natalie, that you are one of you’re the top students at your institution” the doc, a young doctor who happened to be on turn at A & E, kept studying Nat’s tongue and eyes, checking the colour of her membranes.

Some pressing on her pulse and a reassuring smile.

“Your blood pressure is low, and, I maybe wrong, but I’m almost certain, there is a lack of iron…have you had fainting spells lately?”

Nat felt frustration coming up: there was something distinctly patronising about the medic, his blond preppy looks betraying a good university and a lot of daddy’s money…she could smell, faintly, some good cologne on him. She wondered if doctors were supposed to wear cologne at work.

“The thing is, I was perfectly healthy until two days ago. Then…this. What I am most concerned is the blood, I don’t understand what may have cause to throw up blood” she swallowed and winced. Very mildly, but she had still occasional cramps in her stomach.

“It is indeed worrying, but it seems that it was an isolated case. Besides, are you a hundred per cent sure that was blood?”

“I could taste it in my mouth!” she said exasperated. Why didn’t he believe her? Why did he think she was a drunken student recovering from a boozy week end, the way he probably did in the old days at uni?

“As I said, it is cause of concern. At present, from what I can see, yours may be a straight forward case of just lightening the workload and taking it a little bit easier on the study and other fronts…”

Again! She felt beaten. The doctor continued, barely noticing the creased expression on her face.

“…what I would suggest, Natalie, is that you stay a couple of days with us, in complete rest, so that we can keep an eye on you. Meanwhile, I will take a few samples of urine and blood so we can check iron values and any anomalies in general..”

Anomalies. He was checking her for drugs! Oh this was great help indeed…but, if indeed there was a problem, they would find out. She was feeling marginally better, the nausea having subsided, some strength gradually returning, but the off feeling still there.

“…a combination of reduced stress and rest should do the trick, Natalie. I’ll send a nurse to take the relevant samples. Anything else, any concerns, let me know Nat, we are here to help.” He was about to say something else but Nat broke in.

“Well there is a concern. This has all started after I had… an encounter with another student.’

The doctor’s expression said to her that this was confirming his prejudice. He nodded.

Nat’s voice was pitched a bit higher now, making her sound almost strident.

“Look, I know this may sound crazy but…he left me these marks here, on the neck” she showed the almost healed bite near the jugular. ”It isn’t fully visible now, here are the pictures I have taken…” she produced the digital camera, and showed the doctor.

He examined the mark and the pictures, attentively, not a hint of irony on his face: he was suddenly very serious.

“Do you know this student well?”

Oh God, this was the inquisition. She paused, then, resigned she answered, seeing where this was going.

“No”

The doctor appeared vaguely troubled now.

“Well, you see, there are quite a few nutters around and this is something very strange indeed. If he has produced such wound on you, I may be inclined to say that you are rather lucky to be here talking to me, now”

Clarity returned to her mind, in the wake of this unpleasant reality. Maybe he was right, after all…she did not know Roland at all and he might be a blood fetishist or something…she sat there, her face devoid of any feeling, any rebellion at this point, accepting the doctor’s view more and more.

She snapped out of it.

“Anyway, Natalie, I’ll organise for samples as soon as possible and we shall see that your system is not affected in any way. I’ll go call the nurse so that this can be done. I’ll be back with you as soon as the results come, so we can discuss any course of action.”

Nat nodded, internally agreed and tossed her head on the other side, observing, spent, the view out of the window.

She knew well somewhere that the doctor’s view was limited and tainted, but she didn’t have the strength, the will to fight it: besides she was as puzzled and as confused as he was, except that he was attempting to give this whole illness a logical explanation, and the only way to do that was to assume that there was more to this story than met the eye, e.i. a drunken night or else.

He was right: there was otherwise no logical explanation for what was happening to her, but this strange thing, she knew, was the truth.

In the following hours, she emptied her bowels many times over, to the point that there was nothing left in: the sense of nausea had gone, but she was very pale indeed. She felt well again, on some level, although something very distinct, very weird, was happening to her, she could clearly sense that: she didn’t know what. She felt also, as the hours passed, an increasing sense of detachment, an absence of fear which she found in herself rather peculiar, as she did tend to be a relatively anxious individual: she dealt with that organizing her life in perfect order. Was she worried in the least about her studies, the papers, uni…the future? She found peculiar that she could remember what it felt to be anxious, but she wasn’t…what was happening to her? She felt… detached. Where was Roland? What had happened three nights ago? Because, whatever the doctor may say, something must have happened then.

What, she could not comprehend: she did need to speak to Roland. He might be a dangerous fetishist, and in that case she had to alert others, the uni, the police, do something…she needed to speak to him first, to gather the truth from his own lips, a truth he would freely disclose or the one he would conceal, with his words, but betray with his gestures. She was good at reading people. She would know only then.

The doctor found her quiet in her room, that evening: there was not much to add, the results were all average and there was no underling cause of worry, according to her blood and urine readings.

“The only thing I would check if I were you in the future” he said neutrally “is your iron levels. They are, as it is, pretty low on a normal scale, the minimum requirement being 12…you being a 13.”

Nat listened, unaffected.

“…this might indicate a dietary deficiency-often vegetarians have this problem, as they don’t eat red meats- or a more problematic structural deficiency…in any case, I have prescribed some iron tablets for you so to avoid any possible problems. All you will need to do is have a good rest, take it easy…and take a course of these tablets. I will examine you in one month’s time, to monitor the situation.”

He was, in the dim light of the room (she only had the table lamp on) -and devoid of the arsehole attitude- rather handsome. Surely he did the best he could to do his job properly…gone was the underlying patronising questioning and the rest: he had probably found no alcohol in her blood.

“Thank you doctor….”

“Sam, please call me Sam… Mcdowell.” He indicated the tag on his coat, and smiled.

“Thank you, Sam” she managed a smile, sincerely grateful.

“What I would suggest, Natalie, is that you stay here tonight and we’ll discharge you. How do you feel about that?”

Nat looked thoughtful for a second, then spoke.

“Ok…but I still don’t understand what happened to me…I feel ok now though.”

“Sure…well, I cannot tell you what happened because it is a mystery to us as well, Nat, in all sincerity…medicine doesn’t have all the answers. Sometimes all we can do is help and try to alleviate. Said this, I would still like to monitor you in the next month or so, to be on the safe side.”

“Sure” she smiled.

He smiled back and after tossing all his papers together, he stood up, about to leave.

“I better …go now. It’s going to be a long night for me. You sleep well.”

“Are on turn on the ward?” she asked.

“Yep!” he said faking a happy smile, in a comical effect.

She laughed. He wasn’t such an arsehole after all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” and he left the room, leaving behind him an intense scent of musk…was it musk? It was delicious.

And that was it, Sam walked through the long corridor, silence in the ward, the quiet balbbering of the tv in some of the room: all was generally quiet.

Hopefully it will stay like that, he muttered to himself, he really could do with an interrupted sleep, he had worked for 12 hours now, it had been a long turn: still the night to come. So it is, the destiny of the junior doctor.

His room was small, a cubicle, but it had all one needed for a decent sleep and it was wide enough not to give one a claustrophobic feeling: he could have slept in a box, if asked, at this point.

Obviously, he could not wear a pyjamas, but he abhorred wearing clothes in bed, it was a matter of personal hygiene: he took everything off but his Calvin Klein undies (cute on his well formed butt) and a white t-shirt.

He checked his teeth and attended at his personal routine before collapsing on the fresh bed, for some due sleep.

Maybe a couple of hours had passed, maybe three: enough time by any rate to allow Sam to fall into a slow rhythmic deep sleep. She, for some reason, knew, likewise she knew where he was…was it his scent, the musk, she was following? She knew. She passed, barefooted, feeling no cold or else, through the deserted corridors, in the dim neon light that graced this hospital like any other.

She knew where he was. She kept walking, very silently, until she found a door which bore his imprint…the door was of course locked, like it should be, although it magically gave in when she applied what seemed minimal pressure: she knew it mustn’t be so, because a locked door is a locked door, nonetheless, she continued her journey, merely observing what was happening. It was as if, her own old self, which she felt was dying, was watching the new self act and feel and…she closed the door behind her. She could see perfectly in obscurity.

“Doctor…doctor…” she whispered as she approached his lone little bed, where he was dreaming the night away…she might have found him attractive-when?- she merely saw his well formed muscles and the strong body, which was host to a rather healthy life force…she watched him, fascinated. She blew some air on his face, while whispering, again, a number of times, until he came back from a deep sleep, disturbed in his rest and puzzled, as much, to see… Natalie? What the…?

She giggled….she didn’t know what took hold of her, or why she found him so funny as being startled, but she giggled…and provocatively, with a really naughty look in her eyes, she took her top off, exposing a pair of tits that were so perk and peachy they seemed unreal: which he had a full view of as he had rushed to switch the table lamp on. Gosh, she was dead pale, or was it the light?

He was about to say something when she laughed again, this time sitting on the floor, her legs bent and kind of open, her arms back wards, then she put her index finger in her mouth and started licking it like a lollypop: he was entranced, for the inappropriateness of this spectacle in first place, but also and mainly for the transformation Natalie Warren had undergone. She looked in all like the person he had spoken to, but she moved and acted totally out of character-not that he knew her well, but he had put her down as a pretty bookworm who got hammered by a brush with college life- in a way or the other, not this sexy nymph who was attempting to seduce him…but he didn’t have the time, neither to say something nor physically remove her from his sleeping quarters, which he was going to do next.

Nat, with an impossibly fast movement, had grabbed his throat and sank her teeth in it, lustfully: he was unable to move a muscle, as if paralysed by her bloodsucking: moreover, he felt, gradually but surely, his strength and lucidity abandon him…he could smell, blood…it was his blood. She was gorging on it.

She sucked until he died: she knew he was dead because his heart was not beating anymore…had she meant to kill him? God no! Had she meant all of that? Sucking blood, is, for a vampire, the ultimate experience: a young vampire can hardly control their senses once started…he looked ghastly, empty.

Nat felt satiated, full and could feel his life force running through her, be her.

Calmly, with a calm she had not known in her human life, she cleared her mouth of any blood: calculatingly, she took a uniform and a pair of shoes found in the closet of the room, which was used by many doctors and staff, she also took his beeper and his badge.

“Sam” she said aloud, as if reflecting on what had just happened. Yes, what was that? She was almost pleased to discover that she didn’t give a damn. She exited the room, as composed as if nothing of notice had really happened- it hadn’t, no-one had noticed…She found the exit to the hospital, through lifts and corridors, and nodded politely when the guard saluted, her badge well in sight, Dr Sam Mcdowell, finishing her turn…she laughed inwardly, at the happy coincidence. Oh well, not that an exit wouldn’t have been possible otherwise, but this one was spectacular…a name which could be both a female or male name.

Alone, in the middle of the night she walked leisurely towards the uni’s dorm, where she would find her old room, with her old things.

[intim3ate]

Irresistible Indulgence | McCree/Mercy/Sombra/Symmetra [Overwatch]

The mission was supposed to be easy. It would have been, too, if a certain someone hadn't triggered Mercy's heat a few days early. Fortunately for her, though, they happen to run into a few others with the same problem...

A kemonomimi AU commission for a certain someone’s special someone. :3c The prompt was for a sex-pollen like situation involving scents and pheromones, with Bunny Mercy, Bunny Sombra, and Bunny Symmetra getting knotted by Wolf McCree. 

Happy Easter?

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Leave a Tip?

Heavy, pounding footfalls echo along the hallway behind them.

“This way!” Angela feels a tug at her wrist, then a short, harsh jerk as McCree grabs her and pulls her around the corner and down a new hallway.

They hadn’t meant to get caught. This was supposed to be a quick infiltration mission: get in, grab some files, get out. Mercy shouldn’t even have been on this mission, technically, but McCree had had a nasty accident about a week ago and she had insisted on accompanying him to monitor his recovery.

And he’d been fine – no trouble at all. It wasn’t his injury that caused them to get caught - no, there was no longer any trace of a wound at all - it had been faulty intel. LumériCo was supposed to be in the middle of a big corporate overhaul and undergoing renovation, but apparently, their timeline for it was much shorter than reported. All halls that were meant to be deserted were armed with security patrols.

And they’d just happened to get stuck between two of them.

“Shit!” McCree growls as another troop appears at the end of the hall they’d just turned down. He looks around wildly for another sign of escape, but this time it’s Angela who pulls him aside and throws him into a supply closet.

She closes the door as quietly as she can and waits for the sound of footfalls to fade into the distance. Even then, she waits, not wanting to accidentally blow their cover.

She breathes in quickly, shallowly. Then deeper. Deeper. Deeper…

Angela closes her eyes. She feels a distinct tingle between her legs, signifying the start of her heat cycle. She curses herself mentally for not being prepared for it - she knew it was coming up. She was expecting it a few days from now, though, not today. But she had failed to account for one specific thing:

McCree.

She was used to these frequent heat cycles. As a rabbit, she fell victim to them often, but normally she was able to keep them under control. Still, the intensity of these heats could hit her hard, and like most rabbits, she was susceptible to other animals’ pheromones.

And few animals had scents as strong as wolves.

Mercy had been around her fair share of wolves. She’d gotten used to them, to some extent, but even she was no match for McCree, who had one of the most overwhelmingly powerful scents she’d ever come across. And normally, this isn’t a problem. If their heats ever end up syncing, they’re usually able to take care of matters quickly and privately. That isn’t an option on missions, though, so they’ve found a number of workarounds. Provided McCree takes them, that is.

Mercy sighs heavily. “I wish you had remembered your suppressants,” she says.

McCree raises a brow. “I did.”

“Did you?” Angela looks at him incredulously. He can’t have - he smells so strong. “How many did you take?”

“Just the one.”

Mercy sighs and leans against the wall. “Next time, take two.”

“Thought one would be enough.” McCree's mouth breaks into a wide grin, his sharp canines stirring a mixture of primal fear and deep, deep arousal in Mercy. “Guess when the season hits, it hits hard, huh?”

Angela glares at him, long ears flattening behind her head, but her face turns pink. “Wolves.”

McCree shrugs. “Can't help it anymore than you can,” he says.

And isn't that the truth. Angela can tell he's trying to rein himself in, to make himself seem as unappealing as he can by trying to get on her nerves, but there's not much he can do to stop the wonderfully heady, musky scent rolling off him in waves…

Before she realizes what she's doing, Mercy inhales deeply, drinking in that beautiful scent. She leans forward subconsciously, following it…

“Whoa there, partner,” McCree says, holding up a hand to push her away. The touch, light as it is, sends an electric tingle all through her body. “We're on a mission, remember?”

“Y-yes, of course I do,” Mercy responds, hating how her voice falters. She can feel her face warm even more. “Is the coast clear?”

McCree hums and turns to face the door. His ears perk right up, then twist and turn left and right as he tries to listen for people approaching. “Seems safe to me. Can't hear nothin’.”

“Good.” Mercy waits for him to open the closet door for her and she strides out ahead of him, only a little less gracefully than normal. She takes a deep breath, glad to no longer be in that cramped closet where all she could smell were the pheromones radiating off of McCree.

“Which way now?” she asks.

McCree takes a second to re-orient himself before pointing to a hallway to their left. “This way.”

He takes off and Angela follows without question.

---

They make it a fair distance before they have to stop again. The two of them run together, McCree just slightly ahead - Angela is fast, even for a rabbit, but she still can’t keep up with McCree’s powerful wolf legs - until McCree suddenly halts at a corner, sticking out a hand to stop Angela going any further. He presses himself against the wall, and she presses herself to it too, right next to him.

Close. Too close.

And that’s her first mistake.

Her second mistake is not holding her breath. She closes her mouth to breathe through her nose and immediately knows she’s messed up: McCree smells even stronger now, the sweat gathered beneath his clothes and armor amplifying his scent. Angela bites her lip and clenches her legs together, trying in vain to alleviate some of the pressure that’s gathered between them. And oh, god, she’s wet, too. She squeezes her eyes shut, wishing for nothing more than the ground to swallow her up and put her out of her misery--

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, McCree shifts next to her, his hand brushing her shoulder (probably to get her attention), and it’s like a switch goes off in her head. She opens her eyes and grabs McCree by the arms, dragging him down into a forceful kiss and wrapping her arms around his neck. Angela pushes herself into him, sighing through her nose at the pleasant feel of her sensitive breasts pressing up against his chest.

McCree leans into the kiss, slipping his tongue into Angela’s mouth and sliding it against hers. It doesn’t last long, however, because he comes to his senses and pulls away almost immediately. “Ange, what’re you--”

He stops, seeing the look on Mercy’s face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide open, and her face is flushed desperately. McCree licks his lips. No words need to be said: he knows what she wants.

And he wants it too.

He lets her drag him through the hall until they find another door. She reaches for the handle, but McCree beats her to it and practically throws the door open, dragging Angela inside and throwing her up against the nearest wall while the door slams shut behind them.

But then they hear something. A voice.

“Um, excuse me? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

McCree goes stock still. Angela tenses against him, and slowly, she looks over his shoulder to see that the office they’re in is currently occupied.

By two more rabbits.

One of them has her arms around the other - this one has brown ears and a dark mohawk flipped over one side of her head, the ends of it tipped in purple and white. The other looks serious, if not annoyed, and she has a long, straight curtain of dark hair hanging down her back. She glares at the two intruders, her black ears flattening down behind her head.

“Just what do you think you are doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” McCree says back, somehow managing to sound composed despite how wildly his scent indicates the opposite. “You don’t look like LumériCo employees to me.”

“We’re not,” the purple-haired one says back. Mercy notes the way her lips curl into a smile and how her grip on her… friend loosens slightly. “But neither are you.”

“How perceptive.” McCree turns around fully now, stepping away from the wall and taking a small step towards the other women. Angela frowns: she knows that tone, recognizes the cautious, but intrigued tilt of McCree’s ears, the way his tail tenses…

The purple-haired woman walks forward too, leaving her friend behind. “I know you. You’re Overwatch.”

“You can call me McCree.”

“Sombra.”

They stop, half a foot apart. McCree leers down at Sombra, and Sombra smirks up at him. “That don’t sound like a real name to me.”

“You don’t need to know any more than that.”

Sombra licks her lips. She looks McCree up and down, very obviously checking him out. Angela steps forward, her ears perked and her nose twitching wildly as she steps closer. She sniffs the air as she approaches the two of them and her eyes lock with Sombra’s. The scent of sex and want is in the air, radiating off all three of them like sunlight through a break in the clouds. Angela can smell it on herself, on McCree, on Sombra…

And she wants more.

She can tell Sombra must be thinking the same thing, because the other bunny turns to face her as she approaches. And like she was returning to a lost love after years of being apart, Sombra opens her arms and pulls Mercy in, kissing her hungrily and desperately.

Angela moans. Her knees go weak and she lets Sombra guide her through the kiss, opening her mouth the instant a tongue prods against her lips. She hears McCree growl behind her (possessively? Enviously?) and she backs up, turning and pulling Sombra with her until she’s sandwiched between the purple-haired rabbit and the big, hungry wolf.

She can feel McCree’s dick pressing up against her ass, already hard, and she grinds up against him wantonly. He groans, deep in his throat, and leans down to press his lips to her neck. It’s a little bit awkward with Sombra still kissing her so deeply and eagerly, but it still feels so, so good. Mercy moans again and throws her head back, at last breaking the kiss. Sombra hums, half-chuckling to herself as she backs up to watch McCree take her place.

“Look at them,” Sombra says, voice low but still distinct enough for Angela’s sensitive ears to pick up on the words. “They don’t even try to fight it.  Why do you? I know you want this as bad as I do…”

“I’m busy,” the other woman says. “I’ve been tasked with--”

But Sombra cuts her off with a hand trailing down her chest, over the swell of her breast. Mercy opens her eyes to watch.

“Symmetra, please,” Sombra croons. Her other hand comes up to stroke that long, shimmering hair. “We’ll get to it. Why don’t we have some fun in the meantime?”

Symmetra glances at Mercy and McCree, still locked in their embrace, and frowns. Sombra waits for an answer patiently, but when she doesn’t get one, she says, “Fine. I’ll just go enjoy myself then.”

She practically skips back over to Angela and McCree, leaving Symmetra red-faced and appalled. But the long-haired rabbit doesn’t make a move to leave - she stands where she is and watches instead. Sombra turns back to wink at her before giving Angela and McCree her full attention.

Angela immediately feels a hand on her hips, guiding her so that Sombra can press herself firmly against her back. She sighs when she feels Sombra’s breasts squish against her, and she gasps when she feels another hand reach around to stroke between her legs.

“Ohh…” Sombra groans. Angela pulls away from McCree’s lips and shrinks in on herself a little bit, closing her eyes to lose herself to the pleasure of Sombra’s fingers stroking her through her leggings.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Sombra asks. “Is this all him?” She glances up at McCree, eyes hooded and cloudy with lust. “He smells so good… no wonder you’re so wet.”

A chill runs through Angela, but she smiles through it. “Have you never been with a wolf before?” she asks, and she can’t help the smugness that seeps into her tone.

Sombra shakes her head. Her nose twitches as she inhales McCree’s scent. “Never.”

“Oh?” McCree leans forward, grinning. Sombra’s eyes light up when she sees his canines shine in the low light. “Well now’s your chance, sugar.”

They surge forward at the same time, kissing over Mercy’s shoulder while she grinds between the two of them. Sombra’s hand on her pussy provides some much-needed relief, but it’s not enough. She needs more direct contact - a finger, a tongue, a cock, anything.

As if sensing her desperation, McCree pulls away from Sombra with a wet smack. He backs up and gives Angela just enough space for her to slip her leggings and panties off, and she does so in a rush, not bothering to be graceful or teasing about it. Her audience seems to appreciate it just the same.

“Damn, Ange, you’re worse off than I thought,” McCree says, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes hungrily at her. The smile he gives her is absolutely predatory, and she can’t wait any longer: before he or Sombra can make any other move, Mercy thrusts a hand between her legs and starts to rub at her own clit, whimpering and whining as she works at it furiously.

“What a good little bunny you’ve trained,” Sombra says, eyes locked on McCree before she turns to look longingly at Symmetra. “If only my little conejita was the same…”

Symmetra’s eyes had been on Mercy, but her attention snaps back to Sombra as soon as she hears the nickname. Both other women look at her smugly; she can try all she wants to hide it, but she’s clearly been affected not only by the intense scents and pheromones in the room, but by the sight of Angela’s desperation. Still, she does not relent, though her hand moves suspiciously from the front of her dress to clutch at the side of it. “I don’t think so.”

Sombra shrugs nonchalantly. “Whatever you say. More for me, then.”

She turns back to the other two. McCree is stripping slowly, watching as Angela continues to masturbate, and Angela’s eyes are firmly locked on him. She doesn’t notice Sombra taking off her clothes until the other bunny comes up behind her and drops to her knees, spreading Angela’s folds and slipping her tongue between them.

“Ah!” Angela’s knees buckle and Sombra catches her, holding her up with firm, steady hands on her hips. She feels Sombra laugh, the vibrations of it shooting up through her and coiling in her gut. She’s already so close, and yet…

“That’s it.” McCree’s voice catches her attention and she looks up to see him, shirt unbuttoned and naked from the waist down, walking toward her. “Get her nice and wet now, then we can give her exactly what she wants.”

“Please,” Mercy whines.

Another laugh from Sombra. Mercy clenches around her tongue and her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to hold back a scream. When she opens them, McCree is in front of her.

He leers down and puts his big, strong hands on her shoulders to push her down to her knees. Comprehension dawns on Angela’s face immediately and she goes readily, opening her mouth in anticipation of it being filled.

As she moves down, Sombra pulls away. There’s no more room for her to continue eating Mercy out, and Mercy whimpers, desperate to feel that sinfully skilled tongue inside her again. McCree seems to understand, though, and he grins.

“Ain’t no reason you gotta stop, sugar,” he says to Sombra. “Ange, be a good girl and spread your legs nice and wide for her. Let her in there, that’s it.”

Mercy does as she’s asked as soon as the words leave McCree’s mouth, and as soon as she’s in position Sombra slips between her legs, lying flat on her back on the floor. She kisses Angela’s leaking pussy gently before going right back to what she’d started and greedily lapping at her clit, but this time slipping two fingers inside her as well.

Angela’s mouth falls open. She cries out and McCree wastes no time taking advantage of it: he shoves his cock into her mouth as deep as it’ll go, and then that little bit deeper as it swells. Angela moans around it, her eyes brimming with happy, relieved tears. She’s finally, finally getting what she wants.

“You like that?” McCree asks. Angela wants so badly to nod, but she can’t; McCree’s knot has filled out in her mouth and she can barely move. She’s never been so happy to lack a gag reflex

Once Mercy has had time to adjust to his size and find where she’s comfortable, McCree lets her have it. He jerks his hips, growling as his cock hits the back of her throat over and over again. He can’t thrust as deeply as he’d like to, since his knot prevents him from pulling out all the way, but this is good enough. He’s hot and thick in her mouth and in her throat, and Mercy is certain he must be able to see his tip bulging in her.

“Fuck, Ange,” McCree grits out between clenched teeth. Angela tries to swallow around him, hoping to show that she’s enjoying this just as much as he is, and that she doesn’t just want him to fuck her face. She wants to work him to completion, to suck him down until he comes down her throat and fills her up.

And he does - but not before she comes. Angela gets so lost in the euphoria of McCree fucking her mouth that she almost forgets about Sombra finger-fucking her pussy, but she’s blissfully reminded of the other bunny when she feels a third finger slip into her cunt like it’s nothing. Angela rocks back against Sombra, moaning around McCree when Sombra crooks her fingers and rubs that sweet spot inside her that makes her see stars.

Every inch of Angela’s body tenses up. Her legs seize, her pussy clenches, and her throat closes tight around McCree’s cock, tight enough that it makes McCree moan - almost howl - with pleasure, and that’s when he lets go. Mercy takes shallow, greedy breaths through her nose as cum floods her mouth and gushes down her throat. Tears fall from the corners of her eyes, but she smiles and almost laughs through it, she’s so happy.

McCree’s brow relaxes as his knot deflates. He pulls out once it’s small enough, and as he does, the last spurts of cum follow and leak out from between Mercy’s lips. It dribbles down her chin messily.

McCree laughs. “Sorry, Ange,” he says, but Angela barely hears him. She doesn’t quite have the wherewithal to reply: her orgasm is still wearing off with the last few, gentle flicks of Sombra’s tongue against her clit.

McCree looks down just in time to see Sombra slide out from under Mercy. She licks her lips, satisfied, and turns her narrow, lusty gaze on the wolf instead. “Not bad,” she says. “But I think I’d like to get a taste of something else.”

McCree gets the message right away and walks forward. His dick is starting to soften, but that doesn’t seem to deter Sombra in the least: she leans forward, still on her knees, and licks at the tip, happily lapping up the remnants of cum still clinging to McCree.

And it’s like a switch flicks on.

Sombra goes all-in: she takes McCree as deep into her mouth as she can, like she just can’t get enough of the taste of his cum. Mercy watches with awe and just the slightest bit of envy: even though she’s already come, even though she’s already swallowed him down, she wants more.

McCree seems to notice. He grins, feral and toothy, and pulls Sombra off his dick. She whines and pouts up at him.

“Don’t you worry, now,” he tells her, taking her chin in his hand and directing her gaze back to Mercy. “Daddy’s got somethin’ else planned for you. But I don’t think Angie’s quite finished yet.”

With his free hand, he beckons Angela closer. She crawls to him obediently, then when McCree gestures to Sombra, she leans in to kiss the other woman deeply. Once again, the taste of McCree floods her mouth and she moans, wrapping her arms around Sombra and pulling her closer while McCree positions himself behind her.

It’s not just McCree she tastes, and the realization of it hits her like a truck - it’s herself, too, and the mixture of the two of them, salty-sour-sweet all together. It makes Angela weak in the knees, but she keeps going, keeps holding Sombra to her, unwilling to let her go for even a second, not when she’s still so aroused and Sombra’s lips are so soft and inviting...

But she doesn’t have much choice. McCree slips his fingers into Sombra and she gasps, breaking the kiss, and leaving Mercy wanting more.

“Fuck,” the wolf hisses through clenched teeth. “So wet you don’t even need me to warm you up. What say we just get right to it, then?”

He takes Sombra by the hips and yanks her back, but it’s hardly necessary; Sombra goes with him willingly, turning over so she’s on her back and looking up at McCree hovering over her. “Let me see those teeth while you fuck me, Papi.”

McCree grins and bears them. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

He slams in.

The moment he’s inside her, Angela moans. Sombra’s back arches right off the floor and she screams, so loud Angela wonders if she’s already come. She can practically feel the phantom stretch of having McCree’s knot in her, too, and she decides right then and there that if she can’t have it right now, she needs something. Her hand flies between her legs once again and she slips two fingers into her still-gaping hole, fucking herself on them as she watches McCree go to town on Sombra’s pussy.

Sombra’s eyes are hazy as she turns her head to face Mercy, but she smiles and laughs weakly through the fugue of being filled so completely. “Jealous, conejita?”

Angela is too far-gone to glare, but she tries anyway. Sombra laughs, shakes her head, then tilts her chin up and moves her gaze onto something behind Mercy. “Come on, Sym, why don’t you come play with us?”

Mercy turns around to look at Symmetra, who, though once-proud and defiant, is currently leaning, almost doubled-over, on the lone desk in the room. She bites her lip, trying to move so Mercy can’t see that her prosthetic hand has slipped beneath her dress. Although she’s a little bit more subtle than Mercy has been, it’s still painfully obvious what she had been doing up until Sombra called her out.

Symmetra freezes, wide-eyed, and looks from Sombra to McCree to Mercy and back again. Behind her, Mercy hears Sombra laugh, and she turns to look, but her view of Sombra splayed-out on the floor and loving every second of it is obscured by McCree leaning over and licking her face as he thrusts wildly into her dripping pussy.

McCree groans. “Fuck, can still taste her on you,” he says. He thrusts harder, faster, like the taste of Angela’s ejaculate has spurred him on and re-energized him.

It’s re-energized Angela, too.

She stands up, withdrawing her fingers from herself and licking them clean as she saunters over to Symmetra. She sits on the edge of the desk, right next to the other woman, with a sly smile. Symmetra eyes her warily.

“You look like you could use some help,” Angela says quietly. She leans in closer. “May I?”

“I refuse to let that wolf touch me,” Symmetra spits, but some of the venom of her words is lost from the way she gazes longingly at said wolf and his new prey. Angela just smiles.

“You don’t have to,” she says reassuringly. “But will you let me?”

Satya doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t protest, either. Angela just waits, watching Symmetra carefully even when the other woman won’t meet her eye. But eventually, she does lean in closer, offering her cheek to Angela.

And Angela takes it, kissing it softly. She kisses her again, this time moving slightly closer to the black bunny’s lips. Then again, right at the corner of them. On the fourth kiss, Symmetra turns her head so they can kiss properly, closed lips meeting gently.

Then all hell breaks loose.

All restraint melts away from Symmetra after that first contact. She presses forward, massaging Mercy’s lips open gently until they’re both kissing open-mouthed, tongues sliding against one another. Symmetra moans and Angela slides a hand under her dress to trace the hot, damp outline of Symmetra’s cunt through her underclothes.

The kiss breaks and Symmetra cries out, unable to hold back. Her face flushes and Mercy coos at her, leaning in to kiss her cheeks, her chin, her neck. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You can let go. I’ll take care of you.”

There’s one last moment of hesitation, but it quickly dissolves and Symmetra surrenders. She lets Mercy strip her of her shorts and panties, and practically jumps on her fingers when she offers them. Her short, fluffy tail twitches erratically when she finally gets something inside her.

“We’ve kept you waiting far too long,” Mercy teases. She smiles as she crooks her fingers, stroking Symmetra from the inside and quickly bringing her near the edge. Symmetra cries out, a hand flying to her mouth to once again try and silence herself, but Mercy pulls it away just as fast.

“I told you it was okay, didn’t I?” she says without a trace of malice. “Please, Symmetra, let me hear you. If you try to quiet yourself again, I might…”

She slows the movement of her fingers.

“...Just…”

She pulls them out.

“Stop.”

Symmetra nearly sobs. She looks at Angela pleadingly, face flushed dark and ears pinned back flat against the back of her head. “No, please…”

Angela smiles and moves around to stand behind her. “That’s better. Now be a good girl for me and let them know how much you’re enjoying this.”

Symmetra whips her head around, taking in McCree and Sombra once again with wide eyes, as if she had forgotten they were there (how could she, though, when McCree was fucking Sombra so hard they could hear every thrust?). Mercy giggles softly behind her, then carefully slides her wet finger over Symmetra’s rim, past her perineum, and back into her soaking-wet cunt.

Symmetra sighs with relief, sinking down to lean over the desk on her elbows. Mercy leans over and gently nips at the tip of Symmetra’s long, elegant ears. “Watch them, now,” she says, and she feels Symmetra shiver against her.

Mercy watches, too. She watches as Sombra wraps her arms around McCree’s neck, pulling him down closer to her. They kiss, hard, but it’s barely a kiss at all, really: it’s all tongues meeting, all Sombra licking at McCree’s sharp canines, all growls and groans and gasps.

There are scratch marks on Sombra’s arms and back where McCree’s grabbed at her. He does it again, his nails raking more angry red lines down her back, and Sombra half-moans, half-laughs at the feeling. When she falls back to the floor, her legs come around McCree’s waist and she clamps down around him, holding him in place for a brief moment.

“Knot ain’t enough for you?” he asks. “Not like I’m about to fall out, you know.”

“Cállate.” Sombra nips and McCree’s jawline. “Just let me enjoy myself.”

“Guess you are pretty new to the whole wolf thing,” McCree says. “Shoulda had Ange give you some pointers.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Sombra says right back without missing a beat. She jerks her hips and tenses up, and McCree grunts. His brows furrow and his fingers scrape against the floor - a sure sign that he’s about to come.

And come he does.

There’s so much. So much cum that it not just leaks out of Sombra’s pussy, but seems to flow out of her in waves. Angela is deeply familiar with the feeling, and she feels herself leak a little in an automatic response. She almost misses Symmetra’s desperate little whimper, but she doesn’t miss the way the black bunny clenches around her fingers. Symmetra is close, too.

Both McCree and Sombra continue to jerk and thrust against one another as they ride out their orgasms. Sombra looks absolutely wrecked by the time McCree finally deflates and pulls out of her. She lies there for a moment, just trying to come back down to earth, but eventually she staggers to her feet and slowly makes her way over to the other two ladies waiting for her. Jizz drips down her legs where it still leaks out of her over-full pussy.

Mercy swears Sombra’s belly is bulging.

Eventually, Sombra stops in front of the desk. She leans over, still foggy in the head, and sloppily kisses Symmetra. Symmetra eagerly returns it, the sound of her moans getting lost in Sombra’s mouth. Angela has stopped moving her fingers to give her a small break, but seeing how happy Symmetra is to be making out with her girlfriend (is Sombra her girlfriend?) gives Mercy an idea.

“Jesse,” she calls. McCree looks up, reaction time slowed by post-coital haze. “Come here.”

Slowly, he gets to his feet. McCree does as Angela asks and approaches her. He moves behind her when she gestures for him to, already knowing what she wants, as usual. Angela presses herself against his softening cock as he strokes it back to hardness, and as soon as he’s able to, he slips it inside her.

Angela does a marvelous job of keeping her composure this time. She sighs contentedly when she finally feels McCree’s knot swell and fill her up. She still does not move the hand buried inside Symmetra’s warm, wet heat, though.

Symmetra notices this, too. When Sombra pulls away from her, she turns her head to look at Mercy over her shoulders. Her eyes are cloudy, pupils blown wide - just as affected by all the pheromones as the rest of them, now. “Wh… why did you stop?”

Angela laughs. “Because I know this isn’t enough for you,” she says. When Symmetra looks at her uncomprehendingly, she clarifies: “I saw the way you looked at the two of them, and I don’t think Sombra is the one you want anymore, is it?”

Symmetra tenses, but stays silent. Bingo.

Sombra follows their gazes to McCree and smirks. “Aw, pobrecita,” she coos, leaning forward to take Symmetra’s chin in one hand. She turns the black bunny’s head toward her, and kisses her forehead gently. “I thought you were too good for the big bad wolf?”

Symmetra looks like she’s about to spit in Sombra’s face, but she doesn’t. Angela strokes her hair, right between her ears, and it seems to soothe Symmetra somewhat. “I… changed my mind,” she says simply.

“Oh?” Sombra looks like the cat that got the canary - not at all the rabbit running from its prey. “And why’s that?”

Symmetra grimaces. Angela plays with her ears. “Don’t tease her,” she says. “God knows how hard it is to resist McCree when he’s… like this.”

Behind her, McCree jerks his hips. Angela bites back a moan, but she turns her head so he can kiss her cheek. He licks it instead. “Hey now, you can’t blame all this on me,” he says. “I may smell good, but y’all are the ones in heat right now.”

“As if you’re not,” Sombra says, breathless, as she tries to take in another deep whiff of McCree’s scent. It’s not quite his time yet, but it wouldn’t surprise Mercy in the least if all of this - if her and Sombra and Symmetra in such heavy, obvious heats - has triggered it in him early.

“He just smells so good,” Symmetra says all in one breath, reminding them all that she’s still there, still desperate. “I can’t…”

“Can’t help yourself?” Mercy plays with Symmetra’s ear, rubbing the velvety tip of it between her thumb and forefinger. Symmetra melts into the touch, arching her head back to give Mercy better access. “It’s okay, dear. I know. But you have to earn your turn.”

She looks up at Sombra, extremely grateful that the other bunny is so quick on the uptake. Sombra climbs up onto the desk, sits in front of Symmetra, spreads her legs, and opens herself up. She’s still dripping excess wolf cum, and Mercy feels another jolt of arousal go through her that has nothing to do with the knot currently buried deep inside her. She swears she sees Symmetra’s mouth water, too.

“Go on, dear,” she says. “If you’re good and clean her all out, then I’ll let you have your turn.”

Symmetra practically dives in.

Mercy can’t blame her. She’s just barely held herself together up until this point, and now that both Sombra and Symmetra are occupied, she can finally let herself go too.

McCree must feel the tension leave her body, because as soon as Mercy stops focusing on Symmetra and starts to relax, he grabs her by the hips and starts to thrust into her like there’s no tomorrow. She feels his nails dig into her skin as he moves her, pushing and pulling her back and forth just as much and as hard as he fucks into her.

“I’m amazed you could wait,” she gasps out. “You’re not usually this patient…”

“Took everythin’ I had not to throw you down and fuck you ‘til you screamed,” McCree growls. “But I know not to interrupt you when you’re workin’.”

He licks her cheek again, lapping up the trickle of sweat that’s started to run down her temple. Mercy laughs and turns her head so McCree can kiss her properly. She clenches down around him, trying to stay nice and tight for him, just the way she knows he likes. He seems to appreciate it, because soon his rhythm is stuttering, losing all sense of control. He’s just chasing the high of orgasm now.

And that suits Mercy just fine.

She breaks away from McCree’s lips to turn her attention back to Symmetra. The other woman is tight around her fingers, and though Mercy isn’t moving them much, she doesn’t really feel the need to: Symmetra flutters around her just fine, rolling and gyrating her hips in whatever way gives her the most pleasure. She seems much more focused on eating Sombra out, anyway, and swallowing as much of McCree’s cum as she can.

“Fuck, Sati, you’re so - ah - s-s-ssssoooo good,” Sombra breathes. Her thighs tremble. Her hands shake. She must be close. Must be.

And oh - there it is. Sombra’s head falls back and she breathes in loudly, desperately, trying to refill her lungs as quickly as the breath is knocked out of her. It sounds like she’s been sucker-punched, even more so than when McCree had finished with her. Angela can’t help but smile; she’s never seen anyone enjoy an orgasm quite as much as Sombra.

Mercy looks down at Symmetra, who now has finally pulled herself out from between Sombra’s legs to breathe. She licks her lips, smiling faintly, like she isn’t completely aware of how much she’s betraying her emotions. Angela smiles, too.

She supposes that deserves a reward.

Angela withdraws her fingers. Predictably, Symmetra makes a noise at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but she doesn’t say anything. All protest dies on her tongue when Mercy brings those fingers to her mouth and licks them clean.

“My, you taste good,” she says quietly. Symmetra preens a little bit, forgetting to look disgusted for once. She must be really far-gone. “But I think you’d taste better after you’ve been properly filled, don’t you?”

Symmetra’s ears perk up. Mercy feels McCree twitch inside her, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, his ears have perked up, too.

“That mean what I think it means?”

“Yes, Jesse.” Angela gives him a wicked smile. “But you’ll have to finish with me, first.”

He doesn’t have a choice, really. Not when his knot is so full, so deeply entrenched inside her. Not that he would complain, anyway: McCree is more than happy to continue at his brutal pace, and this time, when the rhythm of his thrusting intensifies, Mercy meets him halfway, grinding herself into him and bouncing her hips on his dick.

“Oh, fuck -- fuck, Ange,” McCree grunts. His hold on her hips tightens even more and he tenses up, curling in on himself even as he continues thrusting into her. “Keep goin’ like that and I’ll--”

But he never finishes his sentence. Angela squeezes down around him and McCree comes, spilling himself inside her and filling her up so much that some of his cum gushes out of her along with her own when she finally comes too.

His knot deflates and he pulls out, only for Sombra to take his place. She’s almost delirious with pleasure, moaning and humming wantonly as she spreads Mercy’s already-gaping hole open and cleans her up. If Sombra had any semblance of restraint before (and she hadn’t), it’s long-gone now.

Angela twitches and squirms against Sombra. She’s still coming down, still over-sensitive, and right on the verge of coming again with Sombra’s skillful tongue working her open. “D-desperate little cumslut, aren’t you?” Angela just barely manages to gasp out. She hears Sombra make a noise behind her, not sure if the other bunny is agreeing with her or if she just likes being called a cumslut.

It hardly matters. McCree takes only a second to gather himself, and when he does and he slides himself into Symmetra with no resistance at all, that’s where Mercy’s full attention goes. She doesn’t even realize as she comes again and again on Sombra’s tongue, she’s so enraptured with watching her big, bad wolf fuck his new little bunny.

Symmetra is not weak. That much is clear in her form alone, lean muscle rippling under smooth skin. She has the body of a dancer, of someone who takes the utmost care of herself. But right now, in McCree’s hold, she looks like little more than a doll, letting him lift her and position her and pound her into the floor. She screams, she moans, she gasps, she wails; and there’s a smile on her face the whole time, like she’s in the utmost ecstasy.

She comes on his cock quickly. Once, twice in rapid succession. It’s not surprising in the least; Mercy and Sombra have both kept her pent up for some time now with no release. It looks like it’s worth it, too, as Symmetra’s eyes roll back in her head and she grasps McCree’s shoulders desperately. McCree leans down and licks a stray fleck of his own cum off her cheek - left over from Sombra, no doubt - and she shivers in his hold.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls over her. “Keep on comin’ for me. Stay nice ‘n’ tight for Daddy.”

Symmetra’s legs come up impossibly high and wrap around McCree’s back. Her flexibility is amazing, and for a moment, Mercy wishes she could bury her face between those legs, but she’d hate to interrupt the good time the two of them - and Sombra - are having. She pushes the thought aside for now, deciding to revisit it when they’re done and she can properly clean Symmetra up, but the thought is renewed again when a new wave of orgasm hits Symmetra and she gushes ejaculate all around herself and McCree.

“Fuck!” McCree leans forward and sucks a mark into Symmetra’s throat as he tenses up one final time, letting himself go and coming inside the last of his three bunnies. Nothing leaks out this time, not until he’s finished and his knot slowly deflates and makes room. When he pulls out, he presses some of the cum that spills from Symmetra’s pussy back inside with his thumb. Symmetra twitches and shivers, still sensitive, but she does not come again.

Sombra finishes cleaning Mercy up, licking the last few drops off her thighs. She pulls away with a kiss to the blonde bunny’s labia, then lightly plucks at her fluffy tail.

“Feel better?” Mercy asks. She, for one, feels like a new woman: refreshed and satisfied, this wave of her mating cycle’s heat dealt with for the time being. It’ll return in a few hours, no doubt, but by then the mission will be over and she’ll have all the time in the world to ride McCree properly.

“Yeah,” Sombra says. She turns her gaze to McCree, who has now stood up. His tail flicks as he readjusts his spent cock. “But I don’t think we’re quite done yet, are we?”

Mercy gives her a questioning look, but quickly catches on when Sombra wiggles her eyebrows. She laughs, shaking her head fondly. “You really are quite the cumslut.”

Sombra shrugs, but the nonchalance is lost in the smirk on her face. “Guilty as charged.”

The two women move over to McCree and, at the same time, drop to their knees and slowly start licking him clean. Symmetra joins them shortly, apparently not wanting to miss out on the chance to reward McCree for doing such a good job for them all.

It’s so strange, tasting four different people on McCree’s cock. At least, Mercy can imagine she can taste all of them. She thinks she might even enjoy it more than McCree, which is saying a lot: the wolf can just barely stay standing under the feeling of three tongues working at him. They’re all careful not to go too hard, though: none of them want to fight over who gets to ride McCree’s knot next.

Angela is confident she’ll win, anyway.

When they finish cleaning McCree off, all three women stand and redress. All at once, they’re uncomfortably reminded of why they were here in the first place, and what still needs to be done.

McCree is the first one to break the silence.

“What say we all just go our separate ways now?” he suggests. “We get on with our mission, you get on with yours.”

“And if we are enemies?” Symmetra counters.

“Well, then, we call it a stalemate and get each other properly next time.” McCree shrugs. “I don’t much like shootin’ ladies. Especially not after I sleep with ‘em.”

Blasé as he is about it, Mercy laughs at the joke. “I agree. I would rather not have to fight after… all of that.”

“Right.” Sombra grins. “Adios, then, Overwatch.”

Mercy and McCree leave the room. A small feeling of dread trickles into the pit of Mercy’s stomach - they really shouldn’t have just walked out of there without doing anything, especially after being identified as Overwatch at the get-go - but she decides that that is a problem for another time.

For now, she has to get McCree some new suppressants.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 26

Catch up here

The Saturday morning breakfast crowd consists of most of the usual daily regulars, plus a few families and tourists. Of course all the dailies asks how I'm feeling and tells me they were worried about me.

“Oh, you have nothing to worry about,” Naomi says, passing by on her way to refill coffee at one of her tables. “She had a very handsome doctor who helped her mend.” She winks at me and I stand there flabbergasted. Thankfully none of the patrons ask any further inquiries, which makes me glad.

As soon as I can I pull Naomi to the side and ask her to keep her mouth shut. I tell her that I don't want to explain how I am friends with an actor and how he took care of me while I was sick, when his family was out of town. That it just wouldn't look right and might get the rumor mill going. She agreed not to say anything else but gives me a weird look. I don't get time to ask her because a customer sits down in my section.  

As I'm replenishing the sugar packets, Naomi sits down in the chair across from me. I keep my head down but look at her through my peripheral vision. She is staring at me, like she is waiting for an explanation.

“Naomi, I just really would like to keep my personal life, you know, personal.”

“Honey, I understand that,” she says, patting my hand. “I just said you had a very handsome doctor.”

“I know, but it kind of put me in a spot. What if they had asked who? Then I’d have to explain how I know him and with his being a celebrity and all, I don’t want any gossip rags getting hold of half the information and running with it.”

“Oh-kay,” she replies, sounding unsure. “You have nothing to hide. Friends helping out friends is all.” She shrugs her shoulders, I can feel the blush creeping up my neck and Naomi takes notice. “Unless you do have something to hide?”

I can’t make eye contact with her. I busy myself with repacking the sugar. “Drea Murphy, don’t make me go maternal on you! I am old enough to be your mother, ya know.”

Laughing, I take a chance to look at her. I’ve known Naomi Friedman for a little over a year now, from visiting the diner as a patron to becoming her co-worker. She and I have had many discussions on many different subjects, but this? This little secret I'm keeping, I’m not sure if I should tell her and what her reaction will be. I am in love with Jensen,and he with me. But he is married and most consider that taboo.

I decide to keep my secret just that, a secret. “Listen the Ackles’ are quiet people. Yes, they are both actors but they like to keep to as much as a normal life as possible,” I pause sighing. “Dani was out of town and Jensen just dropped by to check on me and I was sick. But, you know, if that got out, these celebrity rags would be all over it. Were we having an affair? Did Dani know? Was he leaving her for me? Yadda, yadda.”

“Yea, I get it. I’m sorry.” Naomi says. “You’re right. I just,” she pauses and laughs. “I still fangirl sometimes.”

I join her in laughter. I could easily see women fangirling over Jensen. He is hot but what gets me even more than that is how loving and thoughtful he is. Jensen always makes sure his friends and family are well cared for and supported. Jensen Ackles is man who takes care of his own. It’s just one of the many reasons I fell in love with him and continue to fall in love with him. The rest of my shift goes by in typical fashion. The lunch rush busy as usual. By the time it’s over my fears of Naomi spilling out more information about my mysterious friend is alleviated as she never spoke another word about Jensen or him tended to me while I was sick.

“Hey baby.”

Jensen is leaning against the outer door frame of my apartment when I open the door.

“Hey,” I say, surprised to see him. “I thought you were out with Jared today?” I step back and let him walk in.

“I was but I told him I had something I needed to do.”

“Oh yea,” I smile up at him. “What’s so important that you needed to do immediately?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“You.” He pulled me into his arms and his lips easily found mine. “I missed you.”

“How much time do you have?” I asked when we came up for air.

“Long enough,” he answered as I pulled him to the bedroom.

The constant knocking woke me. After we made love, Jensen and I both fell asleep. My head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around me.

I rolled away and sat up as the knocking continued. I found my shirt and a pair of shorts and quickly threw them on. Whoever was at the door was determined to see me and I needed to take care of it before it was found out who was in my apartment and why.

I opened the door and to my surprise Danneel stood there looking distressed and troubled.

“Dani, what’s wrong?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. She was standing here in my doorway and her husband was not 30 feet away, asleep in my bed. My anxiety went through the roof.

“Drea,” she said, walking past me into the main room of my apartment. “You’d tell me if anything huge happened, right?”

“Uh, yea.” Oh god did she know? Had someone seen Jensen come up to my apartment?

“So, you and Josh? You’re okay?”

“Wha?” Why was she bringing Josh up now?

“Tell me I didn’t just catch him cheating on you?” She rushed out.

“Dani, Dani. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

“I was at the store minding my own and in the aisle across from me, I see Josh walking along with some beach blonde. I didn’t think much of it until I saw her kiss him. And he kissed her back. Oh my god, Drea. He’s cheating on you isn’t he? I knew he was no good. I just knew it,” she paced back and forth in front of me. I was too stunned to speak. “Listen, break up with him. Tell him you were only dating him to help me out. I should’ve done this before. As soon as we got those paternity results, I should have told you you had done more than enough.”

I open my mouth to speak but before I could, Jensen’s deep voice split the silence.

“You wanna say that again?” I look to see Jensen standing in the doorway to my bedroom, dressed except for his flannel shirt, which he holds in his hand. He pulls the material on, all the while looking at his wife. “What paternity results? Why would you need….” I watch the realization hit him and his face falls. “Dee, is JJ mine?”

“Yes, she is! But the bigger question is why the hell are you coming out of Drea’s bedroom getting dressed?”

I stand back and watch them stare each other down until Dani huffs and turns to look at me. “Yea, you’re such a great friend. You whore!” She storms out of my apartment, slamming the door behind her.

“What the hell just happened?” Jensen said, looking at me. I can’t answer. My eyes overflow with tears and they begin falling rapidly down my face. Jensen walks up to me, pulling me to him, wrapping his arms tight.

“Shh, baby. Listen, I have got to go. Figure out what the fuck is going on.” I nod and he kisses the top of my head. I watch as the man I have fallen in love with walks out my door, probably never to return. Once he finds out that I helped Dani obtain his DNA to run a test to determine if he was in fact the father of her daughter and even went as far as dating the doctor who performed the analysis, he possibly would never speak to me again. And Dani, god now she knows I slept with her husband and thinks I’m a whore. Did I just lose my two closest friends?

Chapter 27

The Link Crew:

@xxdragonagequeenxx  @carryonmywaywardcaptain @darlingpeanut @sunskittlex @sis-tafics  @wayward-gypsy

[autolovecraft]

Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought!

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb.

I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate.

His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer.

It may have been encouraging and to others may have been encouraging and to others may have been just fear, and it may have been mocking. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. He was the devil incarnate, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. Being without superstition, he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. Birch? He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude.

He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave.

In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. Perhaps he screamed. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider.

Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. Why did you do it, Birch? God, what a rage!

There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste.

As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been just fear, and it may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. Birch still toiling. When Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made.

[susanmichelin]

Wanted to take a minute to thank @sorokinalina for spending her puppy-sitting time creating photos of the Echolls family as featured in my fanfic. From experience, I know how much work is involved in not only finding the right photos, but also doing the actual photoshopping. As a small way to show my appreciation, I thought she might like a sneak peek at the first chapter of the next story, Same Old Song.

The full fic is months away from being ready to post so I’ve hidden most of the chapter under the cut since it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger (read at your own risk). 

CHAPTER ONE

Veronica pulled open the front door to reveal a tall, leggy redhead. “Can I help you?” 

She hesitated, looked at the paper in her hand and then back to Veronica. “No, I don’t think you can. I’m sorry, I…” Her face crumpled and her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. A quick shake of her head and her composure returned. “I must have the wrong house.” 

“Veronica, do you want—” He froze, jaw slack with surprise.

“Logan?” The redhead rushed past her into the house and threw herself into Logan’s arms. 

Instead of pushing the strange woman away, Veronica’s husband actually pulled her closer, a smile crossing his face. One of the rare smiles- easy and unguarded, imbued with genuine warmth and happiness. His eyes flicked to Veronica and the smile faltered. 

“It is you. I was afraid…” Redhead started crying and Logan gently stroked her back, soothing and comforting her. What the hell was going on? “I’m in trouble. I need money fast and you’re the…I need two-hundred grand.” 

He gripped her shoulders and leaned back to see her face. “Whoa, slow down. What kind of trouble requires two-hundred grand?” 

Redhead took a deep breath. “It’s—” She stopped talking and glanced back at the door. “Did he call you Veronica?” 

Yes, because it’s my name. She kept the snotty thought to herself and just nodded. 

“The Veronica?” Redhead was staring at Logan waiting for an answer. 

He nodded. “I sent you a wedding invitation, but I didn’t hear from you.” 

Stunned was the only way to describe her expression, but then a wide grin split her face. “I knew it! I told you if you stopped being a fuckup she’d come back.” She shook her head. “Married? Holy shit, I’m sorry I missed it.” Her smile died and the tears started flowing again. “I’m not in Vegas anymore.” 

Pam Mitchell. Leggy redhead, wedding invitation, and Vegas were all the clues Veronica needed to put together the mystery woman’s identity. Turning away from the two of them, she closed the front door and briefly rested her forehead against the jamb. Dealing with her husband’s ex who was both in trouble and needed money was a radical change to her afternoon plan. She kissed her nap goodbye and moved away from the door.

Logan wasn’t holding her anymore, but his hands were still resting on Pam’s shoulders. “When did you leave Vegas?” 

Pam’s eyes clouded and a slight frown puckered her brow. “Right after I saw you and Carrie in Chicago?” She laid her head on Logan’s chest. “God, I’m so glad you’re here; I was afraid you’d be deployed.” 

They made a striking couple. At almost the same height, their bodies fit together; her lush curves molding perfectly to his hard muscular frame. Veronica felt like an interloper. 

“I left the Navy.” 

Dropping her arms from his waist, Pam took a step back and then another. Her gaze moved beyond his shoulder and landed on Veronica, a hostile expression on her face. “Why?” 

“Long story.” Logan dragged a hand through his hair as he glanced at Veronica and then back to Pam. “Uh… do you want to have lunch with us?” 

Not waiting for her answer, Veronica stalked from the room. If she was lucky the baby would sleep for an hour and she wasn’t going to spend that time being glared at by Pam. She frowned. It was learning that Logan left the Navy that earned Veronica the nasty look. What’s that about? 

Plates and glasses for two were already set out on the kitchen table along with a spinach salad. She took down another set of dishes and ladled out a generous serving of black bean soup. Logan sidled up behind her, slid his hand under the bowl and lifted it from her hand. “I’ve got this, you go sit.” 

Veronica titled her head back to see him and he kissed her nose. His eyes were troubled and his brow was furrowed with worry lines. Probably thinks I’m jealous. To alleviate his fear, she smiled at him before taking her soup back and turning to Pam. “We’ve got lemonade, juice, or water.” 

Opening the fridge, she took out the Brita water pitcher for herself and waited on Pam’s response. 

“Water’s fine.” 

With her hip, Veronica closed the fridge and went to take her seat at the table. Pam lingered in the doorway. She was hugging herself and staring at the floor. Finally, she raised her head and spoke to Logan: “I’m not really hungry.” 

He dished out a bowl of soup for her anyway. “At least sit down and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Her eyes tracked his progress from the counter to the table and then focused on Wyatt’s booster chair. Crossing the room, Pam brushed her fingertips across the green turtle’s head. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She swiped her hands over her face. “Boy” —her voice cracked— “Or girl?” 

Uneasiness descended over Veronica and she paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth to study Pam. The other woman was watching Logan, waiting for his answer. A grin split his face and his eyes brightened. “A girl. Actually, we have two girls.” 

His words knocked her back a step and she practically fell into the chair next to him. “I don’t… wow, you as a Dad? Shit, I’m impressed.” A lopsided smile spread over Pam’s lips and Veronica relaxed. “You don’t waste any time do you?” 

“Not when I know what I want.” As he spoke, Logan’s eyes were locked on Veronica. It was the intense stare that made her want to crawl across the table and do bad things with him. The smug uptick at the corner of his mouth said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She rolled her eyes and he chuckled. 

To get her thoughts under control, Veronica filled their water glasses and served the salad. It was made with warm bacon dressing, hard-boiled eggs, and gorgonzola cheese and was her new personal fave. She held out the plate for Pam who shook her head. Your loss.  “Two hundred thousand dollars,” Veronica prompted. 

Her husband was used to her bluntness, but Pam was not. She blinked and looked at Logan for rescue. Instead of changing the subject, he asked: “Do you owe it to somebody?” 

“No.” With an unsteady hand, she picked up her water glass and took a long sip. “When I left Vegas, I rented an apartment in Santa Monica and started waiting tables at a diner.” 

“Why did you quit the casino?” 

Pam fiddled with her glass, dragging a finger up its side to catch the condensation. “It was time for a change.” 

She’s lying. It wasn’t outright- more evasion than lying, but there was some piece of information she was withholding. Veronica’s general feeling of unease returned. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Logan didn’t look concerned and he knew Pam better than she did. “Big pay cut,” was all he said. 

“No shit” —a wry grin— “And the rent was crazy.” 

“Was? You’re not there anymore?” 

Veronica was losing patience. She wanted Pam to get to her reason for coming here and why she needed the money. The question ‘why Logan’ almost made it past her lips and she swallowed it down with another spoon of soup. Come on, Veronica you know the why doesn’t matter- Logan’s not going to say no. There was no way her husband would turn down a woman in distress. 

“There was this guy.” There always is. “A customer at the diner and he asked me if I’d ever danced before. I told him about Reno and Vegas and he offered me a job.” She didn’t make any excuses for her decision and Veronica admired her unabashed attitude. “It was a great deal; I didn’t have to pay stage fees or share tips. It was a fifty-fifty split for lap dances though, but I was an employee so,” she shrugged. 

Curiosity engaged. Veronica sighed and asked: “Stage fees? They make you pay to dance?” 

Pam nodded. “Some clubs charge a hundred bucks just for you to work. They take cuts from your tips, make you buy a set amount of drinks during your shift and some places even charge you fines- for being late, chewing gum on stage, not smiling enough.” 

“Seriously?” Veronica was surprised and a little appalled at the way the clubs were taking advantage of their dancers. 

“It’s their way of claiming you’re an independent contractor instead of an employee. This way they don’t have to pay you a minimum wage, or provide disability insurance or worker’s comp.” 

“That’s against the law.” 

Pam grimaced. “A lot of what happens inside some strip clubs is against the law.” 

Logan was being very quiet. His head was bowed and he was eating his soup like it was his last meal. Veronica rubbed her foot against his leg making him jump. “Cat got your tongue?” 

Bailey’s crying saved him from having to answer. “I’ll get her.” He practically sprinted from the kitchen.

Veronica gave him the benefit of the doubt -attributing his eagerness to leave the room because he wanted to quiet Bailey before she woke Wyatt and not a desire to escape a discussion between his wife and his ex about illicit activities inside strip clubs. 

“How long has he been out of the Navy?” 

“Almost a year.” Conversations about strip clubs and money troubles were preferable to this discussion. 

Pam was a walking and talking embodiment of the nine years of radio silence. She witnessed Logan’s drinking and drug use and sketchy behavior. Helped him through withdrawal, attended his college graduation, and watched him get his wings. Even though Logan let her read his journal, Pam still knew things about her husband that Veronica didn’t and it made her uncomfortable. 

“How is he?” 

Too many layers to that question. 

“Happy.” Standing, Veronica carried her dishes to the sink. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? Coffee?” Gracious hostess was an easier role to play. 

“Coffee works.” 

Logan chose then to return, asking: “Can you make that two?” Bailey was nestled against his chest wide-awake and sucking on her fingers. 

Veronica cupped the baby’s head. “Hey, Rabbit. How was your very short nap?” At the sound of Veronica’s voice, Bay smiled around her fingers and gurgled. “That good, huh?” Lifting the baby’s foot, she kissed her toes. “Did you check on Wy?” 

He nodded. “Still sleeping.” 

“Ah, sleep, I did that once back in the day.” She pulled three mugs from the cabinet, set the first cup to brew, and went into the living room to get Bailey’s bouncer seat. When she walked back into the kitchen, he was in the process of transferring the baby to Pam. 

Her grip tightened on the bouncer and she frowned at the two of them. Their chairs were pushed together, shoulders touching and heads bent over the baby. Bailey was gripping Logan’s finger and cooing at Pam. 

“She’s beautiful, Logan.” Pam cuddled the baby closer and brushed her fingers over Bailey’s cheek. 

Veronica slammed the bouncer seat on the table a little harder than intended and all three of them startled at the sound. “How do you want your coffee, Pam?” 

“Black is fine.” 

Turning her back on them, she concentrated on making the coffee. By the time she carried their mugs to the table, Bay was on the floor in her bouncer trying to catch the stuffed giraffe. She swatted at it and kicked her feet making the seat bounce and her squeal. 

After handing them their cups, she got her own and rejoined them at the table. “So are you still dancing at this club?” Veronica sipped her coffee and stared at Pam over the rim. Time to finish your story and go home. 

“Yes and no. Joey, he’s the guy who owned the club, started me on the day shift during the week, and then I moved to nights and weekends. After about a year, he made me manager.” 

The upward mobility of stripping. “You work there, but don’t dance.” 

Pam shook her head. “I still dance —Friday and Saturday nights mostly— plus I fill in for girls who call out sick and we do private parties.” Her coffee cup suddenly demanded all her attention. She traced the rim, nudged at the handle, and finally picked it up to take a sip. 

It was the mention of private parties that rattled her. Veronica glanced at Logan. In between drinking his coffee, he was making funny faces at the baby trying to make her laugh. She knew he was paying attention to the conversation; yet he wasn’t asking any of his own questions. If I wasn’t here would he have just given her the money by now? Veronica frowned at the thought. “Did something happen at one of the parties?” 

Her eyes widened in surprise at the astute guess. This ain’t my first time at the rodeo, Pam. “Yes, but… I thought Joey owned Shenanigans so last year when he approached me with a deal, I…” She banged down her mug. “Fuck.” 

Reaching across the table, Logan placed his hand on hers and gave it a soft squeeze. “It’s okay, Red.” A fleeting smile at his use of the nickname. “We’re going to help you.” 

Thanks for making that decision alone, Echolls. Veronica stared at their touching hands. “What was the deal?” 

Pam followed her gaze to their hands and slid hers off the table, tucking it into her lap. 

Logan’s head swiveled in Veronica’s direction, a frown on his face. Adopting an innocent expression, she gave him a one-shouldered shrug: beats me what that was about. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and she turned away. 

“Joey knew I was saving money; I make five, six hundred bucks a shift —five shifts a week— plus whatever I earn in the VIP room.” She looked away and Veronica wondered what else Pam was doing in the VIP room besides dancing. “I was banking most of it; thought I could open my own club.” It was said with a wistful tone like that dream was gone. 

“What did Joey—” 

Logan cut her off. “Take your time.” Her husband was no longer looking at her or the baby, his focus was on Pam’s story. 

Guess he’s done with me taking the lead. Veronica finished her decaf and went to put the mug in the sink. She glanced at the clock. The baby would probably be looking to nurse right around the time Wyatt got up from her nap. If Pam didn’t wrap up her story soon, she’d be telling it to just Logan. Maybe that’s what he wants. 

“He offered to make me a partner. I gave him what I had for a twenty-five percent stake in the club. What he didn’t tell me was that he already had a partner.” She planted her face on the table. “God- I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

Logan rubbed her shoulder. Does he have to keep touching her? Veronica started to load the dishwasher fully aware that she was being catty. Her husband was a very tactile person. Touch was something that was missing from the early part of his life and it was important to him. 

Without lifting it from the table, Pam turned her head. “Sam Carlucci is not somebody you want to be partners with.” 

“I figured that much out all by myself.” 

Another one of her crooked smiles- the kind that reached her eyes and lit up her face. “Logan Echolls, boy genius.” 

“Hey now, I’m well past boy.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” She sat up and tilted her mug. “How ‘bout you make yourself useful and hook me up with another cup of coffee.” 

“Pushy bitch.” 

Pam tossed her head back —sending cascades of auburn curls over her shoulders— and laughed. “Asshole.” 

Chuckling, Logan got up and fixed her another cup of coffee. “Do you need the money to pay off Sam?” 

She immediately sobered. “I wish it was that simple.” Reaching for his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve made a really good life for yourself here; I’m proud of you, Logan.” 

“You helped.” They stared at each other and once again Veronica felt like she was intruding on something. “Now let me help you. I can write you a check or I can make a call and get cash.” 

Relief washed over her. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.” 

He waved away her offer. “Don’t worry about it.” 

That’s it? Have the money and don’t worry about it? Veronica shut the dishwasher. “Are you being blackmailed?” The two of them turned to stare at her. “What? If she’s being blackmailed they’re not going to go away because she pays them. In fact, if she pays them this easily, they’re going to think they didn’t ask for enough and they’re going to make a new demand. A new demand for more- it’s never going to stop.” 

Pam’s face crumbled and Logan looked annoyed. 

“You know I’m right.” 

A solemn nod from Pam. “She is right, but it’s… it’s not blackmail.” 

“Then there’s no problem.” The words were for Pam, but Logan’s eyes were on Veronica. “Right?” 

Now she was mad. “It’s your money- do what you want with it.” 

“I will.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.” Tugging open the refrigerator, she pulled out a bag of breast milk and poured four ounces in the Mimijumi bottle. Unlike Wyatt, Bailey was not happy if she wasn’t actually nursing. Trying to feed her from a bottle was an unpleasant experience at best, but these anatomically correct, very expensive bottles made it at least sufferable. She stuck it in the bottle warmer. 

“I don’t want to cause any problems for you.” 

Logan said: “You’re not” at the same time Veronica responded with “No problem at all.” 

Pressing her hands flat on the countertop, she took a few deep breaths. If she tried feeding the baby while she was angry, Bailey would only fuss and cry more. 

“Before you decide to help, I think you need to know the rest of the story.” Pam held up her hand to keep him from protesting. “Once I bought into the club, Sam came around to introduce himself.” 

The way she said the word ‘introduce’ had Veronica’s head spinning around to look at her. Pam’s composure was a little shaken, but she pushed back her shoulders and plowed ahead with her story. “He started using the club to conduct his business. Sometimes up in front, sometimes in the back office or VIP rooms. Then he started having private parties.” 

All the color leached from Logan’s face and he shook his head. “You don’t need to tell me anymore.” 

The warmer shut off and Veronica plucked the bottle from its warm water bath. She couldn’t wait to feed the baby; Bay was already fidgeting in her seat and gnawing on her hand. Veronica scooped her up, sat at the table and got as comfortable as she could in the hard chair. 

As soon as she realized it was a bottle, the baby clamped her mouth shut and started rooting around for the breast. “Come on, Bay.” She gently tapped the nipple against Bailey’s lips until she opened her mouth and started to drink. She leveled Veronica with a baleful stare. 

Pam was watching them and her earlier tears returned in earnest. “Last week Sam had a party. It was him and two of his associates, plus three guys I’ve never seen before. I was there along with four other dancers.” She dragged her eyes away from Veronica and the baby and took a large gulp of her coffee. 

“It was a drug buy; I think Sam was looking for a new supplier so it was a small deal- five kilos at twenty grand a piece.” 

One hundred thousand dollars cash and one hundred thousand dollars worth of coke- two hundred grand total. “Did you steal it?” 

“Veronica,” he barked. 

Logan’s angry tone made Bailey start to whimper. “Ssh, it’s okay Rabbit.” She bounced the baby and gently started to rock. “I wasn’t accusing her; I was asking.” 

“Maybe you should go—” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

Pam’s gaze swung between them. “I didn’t steal it.” 

“I know you didn’t,” Logan reassured her. “But they think you did.” 

“Boy genius strikes again.” This time it was said without any humor. “Both the coke and the money went missing and they think one of us has it.” She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. “It’s bad, Logan.”

She dropped her hands. “They’re at the club all the time now; watching us- threatening us. One of the dancers… Karen, she called me, said they came to her house. She was whimpering and talking to herself. They… they terrorized her.” Tiny beads of sweat popped out over Pam’s upper lip. “She hasn’t been at the club and she’s not in her apartment. I tried calling her, but her cell phone’s disconnected.”

“It’ll be okay, Pam; you’ll give them the money and you’ll be fine.” 

Veronica was shaking her head. “It won’t work.” 

“Aren’t you just Little Mary Sunshine today?” 

“And you’re the King of Wishful Thinking- they’re not just going to leave her alone because you ask nicely. They think she stole from them and if she gives them the cash it’s as good as confessing.” 

She could see the exact moment the truth of her words hit him by the expression on his face. “Take the money and use it to disappear.” 

“I can’t.” Pam slumped in her chair. “If it was just me- maybe, but… I have a son, Logan. They’re threatening to hurt my son.”