#as an almost middle (shudder) age woman i can certainly take care of myself but

[scottstiles]

i also wish that instead of wasting time trying to absorb twitter @staff was working on making this website a safer place for minors

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow Of Fate PT. 5

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: So I was inebriated for the first portion of PT. 5 so excuse any errors. I’ll fix ‘em tm lol. Enjoy! -Thorne

Movement roused her from her slumber, and she shifted, wrapping her arm around whatever was moving. It stilled, and she groaned, burying her face deeper into the fabric against her. A low chuckle sounded in her ears, causing her fingers to twitch. “(Y/N), you’ve been asleep for almost nine hours. Don’t you think it’s time to get up?” She groaned again, burrowing her face closer to the warmth.

           “Mmm…ten more minutes…” The owner of the voice chuckled again, gently caressing her cheek.

           “You might need ten more minutes, but your annoyance of a brother has now threatened me seven times for being close to you.” (Y/N) huffed a laugh, cracking one open, shifting her gaze to the golden eyed vampire smiling at her.

           “Are you sure I can’t lie here for a few more minutes?” Adrian huffed, shaking his head.

           “While I don’t see a problem with it, I wouldn’t,” He raised his fingers making quotation marks and recounted, “want to be ‘stabbed up through my testicles to my heart.’” (Y/N) tipped her head back, cackling loudly; when she calmed, she pulled away, stretching her arms above her head.

           “Yeah…that sounds like Trevor.” She glanced at Adrian and offered, “Sorry, he’s an overprotective jackass sometimes.” He shook his head and stood, offering his hand to her. (Y/N) took it, allowing him to pull her up. He tugged and she stumbled forward, landing against his chest. She placed a hand against his shoulder, pulling away quickly, a warmth rising to her cheeks. “Oh, uh, sorry about that.” Adrian shook his head, a warmth of his own climbing under his skin.

           “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t mean to pull so hard.” (Y/N) shook her head.

           “Don’t worry about it.” Thrusting his coat into his arms, she turned, pointing towards one of the rows. “I’m gonna go find Trevor.” She listened to his laughter sounding in her ears as the warmth spread across her face. An hour later, she stumbled across Trevor staring at a sword he’d found. (Y/N) plopped down next to him, leaning into his side. “Whatcha find over here?” He glanced up from the silver sword, then back to the blade.

           “Sword.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs.

           “No shit smartass.” She rested her elbow on her knee, propping her chin on her hand. “Was that father’s sword?” He tipped his head side to side.

           “I think it is. It’s been awhile since I saw it.” Trevor handed it to her, watching as she thrust it out in front of her, eyes focused straight down the blade.

           “I’d’ve thought he’d taken it with him.” (Y/N) passed the sword back over and he returned it to its scabbard.

           “Wouldn’t have done much good.” She looked away and he added, “He must’ve put it back in here because he knew we’d end up getting in here somehow.” (Y/N) nodded, resting back against the bookshelf. She observed him for a moment before muttering,

           “I know that face…you want to talk about our life choices.” Trevor didn’t look at her, but his grip tightened along the scabbard.

           “We do need to talk (Y/N)…about Alucard.” (Y/N) placed her hand in his peripheral vision, her palm flat as if to say, ‘enough’, and firmly stated,

           “His name is Adrian, and if we’re going to talk about him, you’re going to use his name properly.” Her brother turned to her, and she met his eyes, staring at him. He didn’t say anything at first, but then he said,

           “You need to be careful about how close you’re getting to Adrian.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

           “Why? Because he’s a vampire?” Trevor nodded.

           “That, and because he’s Dracula’s son.” (Y/N) looked over at him and scowled,

           “Yeah, and his mother was a human. Mind you, he’s trying to stop his father because it’s what Lisa would’ve wanted.” He opened his mouth, but she raised her pointer finger. “Trevor, I get that you’re concerned, but if Adrian wanted to kill us, or at least harm us, he wouldn’t wait until we were in the middle of a fight with his father, he’d have done it between leaving the crypt and arriving here.” (Y/N) watched Trevor’s expression darken, and she rested her hand atop his. “Look, I get that you’re concerned about me, and I thank you for that, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and my love life.” Trevor looked away for a moment, then glanced back at her and whispered,

           “Does it have to be him?” (Y/N) snorted, resting her head on his shoulder.

           “You say that like I’ve got a choice.” He grunted at her, crossing his arms across his chest.

           “I mean, you could choose someone else.” Trevor looked down at her. “A priest. You could choose a priest and I’d be okay with that.” (Y/N) laughed at his statement.

           “Priests can’t get married Trevor.”

           “They can before they become priests.”

           “But I thought you hated priests?”

           “I do…but I hate them less than I hate that asshat.” She whacked his arm and corrected,

           “Adrian’s not an asshat Trev…he’s just…lost…” A frown grew on her face and she whispered, “He needs someone to stay beside him Trevor…he’s hurting inside.”

           “You don’t need to be nor are the one to save him.” (Y/N) nodded.

           “You’re right. I can’t save him.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “But I can help him.” She knew her words were resonating in him, and she squeezed his hand. “Trevor, I know you wanna keep me safe and protect me, but I’ve seen just how bad this world can be…and so has Adrian…except he’s never had someone to stand beside him to help carry all his hurt with him.” (Y/N) turned her gaze to the upper levels of the Hold, catching Adrian and Sypha in her vision. “My job is to help people…and I can help him. I certainly can’t fix all his hurt, but I can be there to listen and to help him weed his way through it.” She looked back at her brother. “You know I’m right Trevor.” A grimace appeared on his face, and he went quiet for a few moments, then he sighed heavily and nodded.

           “…Yeah…I know you are.” He shook his head. “I still don’t like the idea of you getting close to him.” (Y/N) grinned, resting her head back on his shoulder.

           “I know…but it could be someone worse Trevor.”

A Few Hours Later:

           She ran her fingers up the column of a book, pulling it out to scan its contents. She leaned against the bookshelf, reading the pages when she felt a presence beside her. (Y/N) waited for him to speak. “Reading something interesting?” She nodded, showing him the book.

           “Sir Gawain and The Green Knight.” She nodded towards a book on the shelf. “I think there’s a copy of Beowulf right there…I was going to read it once I was finished with this.” Adrian picked up the book, flipping through it.

           “I haven’t read this in a while.” (Y/N) glanced up at him, watching his golden eyes scan the words.

           “You’re well read, aren’t you Adrian.” He looked over at her and nodded.

           “Well, my father was a polymath and my mother was a doctor, so much of my childhood literature was educational.”

           “Bummer then. Fictional works are fantastic.”

           “They’re fantasy.” (Y/N) closed the book with a snap, pulling the book from his grip to put it away.

           “Yeah, but that’s what makes them great.” He arched an eyebrow, following her around the bookshelf.

           “How so?” She snorted, running her fingers along the spines as she walked down the aisle.

           “Haven’t you ever read a book and imagined yourself within the story? To be apart of the world within the literature?” He paused a moment, then nodded.

           “Yes, I have.” (Y/N) spun around, taking his hands in hers.

           “Doesn’t make you feel alive? Like everything around you doesn’t exist?” Adrian nodded.

           “It does.” She smiled, lifting one of his arms to twirl under it.

           “Fictional works allow you to bring to life all that goes on up here.” (Y/N) reached up, gently tapping his forehead with her pointer finger. “Worlds beyond wonder exist behind our eyes…and it’s okay to sometimes close your eyes and live within them.” He stared at her as if she’d said something profound, and she pulled away, moving down the aisle. “Tell me about your childhood, Adrian.” He followed her, thinking about his childhood.

           “It was…a good one. My parents loved me, and they raised me well.” She glanced at him as she pulled another book from a shelf.

           “Did you ever get to play with kids your age?” He nodded.

           “A few times, here and there. My father moved the castle around and wherever we’d end up, I’d accompany my mother to the village where she would treat the people there.” (Y/N) paused and looked back at him.

           “Tell me about Lisa.” At this, he stopped moving, eyes clouding over with an emotion she could only recognize as sadness.

           “My mother…was the most beautiful and kindest woman I ever knew. Obviously, she didn’t put up with anyone’s shit…but still, she was so kind and caring to everyone, even if they were the most evil being alive.” (Y/N) stepped closer to him and quietly asked,

           “How did you find out she was murdered?” Adrian didn’t look at her and he shut his eyes, whispering,

           “I returned to my mother’s hut to find it burned down. The old lady she’d treated just before she was taken was there…she…told me the church had taken her to Târgoviște.” She watched him swallow thickly as he began shaking his head. “I travelled as fast as I could, but by the time I arrived…she was already…she was…” His words fell short and she brought up her hand, resting it on his arm. Adrian took a shuddering breath and continued. “When I returned to the Castle, my father had issued his threat to Târgoviște, and I tried to oppose him.” (Y/N) caught sight of the red scar peeking above his shirt and she reached out and traced the tip of it.

           “That’s how you got this, I assume?” He nodded, reaching up to hold her hand firmly against the spot she was tracing. (Y/N) felt his heart thumping underneath and she offered him a sad smile. “I’m sorry you witnessed such horrors, Adrian. No one deserves to witness that…and they especially don’t deserve it to be someone they care for.” He gazed at her, golden eyes filled with a sadness that bled so much, she felt it in her bones. He reached up and caressed her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing her skin.

           “Neither did you.” (Y/N) let a smile cross her lips and she shook her head.

           “No, you don’t get to turn this over on me right now Adrian Tepes.” His brows furrowed and she reached up, placing her hand atop his, curling her fingers into his palm. “Right now, it’s your time to be comforted, not comforting.” Adrian chuckled, pulling his hand away.

           “You are very good at making people open up about their pasts, (Y/N).” She shrugged, flashing him a cocky grin.

           “I’d even go as far to say that it’s one of my best perks.” She paused, then tipped her head side to side. “Well, that, my fighting prowess, and my boobs.” For a split second, Adrian’s gaze flitted down, and she snapped her fingers, bringing them back upwards immediately. “Oi. My eyes are not on my chest.” A flush rose up on his cheeks causing her to cackle as she turned around, prancing around the other side of the shelf.

           “I’m…I am…sorry.” The warmth across his skin only darkened as she cackled louder. When she calmed, she asked,

           “So…what were you and Sypha talking about earlier?”

           “Are you jealous?” (Y/N) scoffed.

           “Oh please, it’s obvious to see that she’s not into you. We both know who she’s fancying.” Adrian grunted, then said,

           “We were talking about bits of my childhood…and your brother.” She chuckled.

           “Was it how annoying he was?”

           “More or less.”

           “And your childhood?”

           “We talked about how well-read I was, Sypha mentioned a box full of works on phalluses, then I told her I grew quickly as a child.” (Y/N) went silent for a moment, then muttered,

           “I’m gonna have to ask her where that box was...” She cleared her throat then asked, “You grew up fast? I thought you had a good childhood?” He nodded.

           “I did. I’m being literal. I aged very quickly.” (Y/N) hummed, then quipped,

           “So that explains why you’re acting like a rebelling teenager despite the fact that you’re an adult.” The sound of falling books reached her ears and she worried, “Adrian? Are you alright?” He didn’t respond, but she could hear him grumbling as he picked up the books, and she let out a laugh. “Oh, I see…Sypha said something extremely similar, didn’t she?”

           “No…maybe…” This caused her to laugh more.

           “Not fun when you’re on the receiving end of the truth talk, is it Adrian?”

           “Yes, yes, laugh it up Lady Belmont. I’m glad you find my misfortune so funny.” (Y/N) peered around the shelf, watching him slide the last book into place.

           “Oh Lord Tepes, I’d never laugh at your poor misfortune. To do so would be a shameful display on my part.” She watched a grin grow on his lips as he looked over at her.

           “Something tells me you know all about shameful displays.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and murmured,

           “And I bet you’d like to see them, hmm?” Before he could respond, Sypha shouted for her and Trevor.

           “Trevor! (Y/N)! I found something!” (Y/N) looked over the railing down to her as Trevor looked up from the bottom floor and called,

           “What?” Sypha pointed to the book.

           “I found something you need to see!” Her brother grunted.

           “Uh, when I say ‘what’, that doesn’t mean ‘I would like to ask even more questions’.” (Y/N) swore the Speaker was going to chuck the book at his head as she vexed,

           “Would you please-oh you are the most annoying, just stop!” Trevor let out a dramatic sigh and muttered,

           “Alright…I’m coming up.” Sypha smiled and exclaimed,

           “I think I’ve found a locking spell. Wait! Listen! Your family have an entire literature here about the castle. They tried for centuries to eliminate its main advantage. It transports itself through magical means!” Adrian passed behind (Y/N), leaning on the railing beside her as Trevor climbed the stairs.

           “Right. So, you can’t attack it if it just jumps somewhere else.” The Speaker nodded.

           “Yes! Some clever Belmont eventually formulated most of a locking spell! A method to catch the castle and lock it down to a single location so that it can be invaded!” Adrian crossed his arms, deeply in thought then inquired,

           “Most of it?” Sypha nodded.

           “I can finish the final clauses of it myself. It’s all based on Adamical structures.” The vampire pulled away from the railing, and (Y/N) followed, flipping over the barrier, landing with a thud.

           “You keep saying that word.”

           “Adamic is the original human language. The one spoken by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The one that was split into all other languages at the Tower of Babel by God to prevent human cooperation.” Both (Y/N) and Adrian raised an eyebrow, and he asked,

           “Is that how you understand that story?” (Y/N) leaned over and whispered,

           “I thought the story of the Tower of Babel was how God was concerned that humans had blasphemed by building the tower to avoid a second flood, so God brought into existence multiple languages. Then the existence of other languages was created.” Sypha waved a hand.

           “We Speakers are the enemy of God. We live in cooperation and hide our stories inside ourselves so he cannot strike them down in jealously.” The two Belmonts and the vampire shared a look, but said nothing, then the sound of rumbling shook the Hold. They turned their gazes upwards, and Sypha announced, “See! God hates me!” The rumbling grew louder, and the Hold began to shake more, and (Y/N) watched dust fall from the ceiling. A cry came from somewhere above, and (Y/N) and Trevor’s hands immediately went to the swords they had sheathed. Adrian looked at them and emphasized,

           “That’s probably not God.” (Y/N) looked at Sypha.

           “How fast can you finish the spell?” The Speaker looked at the book then back to her.

           “I need some time.” She nodded, looking at Adrian.

           “You get the mirror to the index and start working on it while Sypha finishes the spell.” (Y/N) eyed Trevor. “Let’s go.” He nodded, and the two ran towards the staircases, weapons unsheathed and ready.

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 14: Can You Keep A Secret, Professor?

(Click here for chapter 13!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

It was late at night, and Severus was in a truly splendid mood as he made his way through one of the school’s deserted corridors.

Just a few hours earlier, his house’s Quidditch team had absolutely smashed those stupid little Gryffindors he despised so much. 60 to 190 points – he still marvelled at that superb score. Finally, after all those years, his beloved Slytherins were again on their way to take home Hogwarts’ Inter-House Quidditch Cup! He could not help but smirk as he thought of the shocked expression on Potter’s face when Draco Malfoy had caught the Snitch right before the Chosen One’s eyes. After the game, the Potions Master had then spent the rest of his night harvesting Sopophorous beans from his secret acreage hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest and was now on his way back to his chambers. Ah yes, today had been a good day!

Snape was just about to turn the corner when he heard the unmistakable creak of a heavy door echoing through the nocturnal quiet. Maybe it was a remnant of his spying days or maybe it was the teacher in him evermore prepared to catch some unsuspecting students breaking the rules, but he immediately stopped dead in his tracks and squeezed his body against the wall before risking a stealthy look into the corridor to his right.

At first, he could not see much as the light coming through an open door situated a mere few metres in front of his position was simply too bright; it took his eyes a second or two to adjust. It was only then that he realised he was looking at the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Funny – he hadn’t even noticed that he had wandered into the Hospital Tower. But maybe that should not have come as a surprise, considering how much his mind had been all over the place lately.

Turning his attention back to the scene before him, he could make out a person looking suspiciously similar to Madam Pomfrey standing in the doorway, evidently speaking with someone out of his sight. The wizard’s brows puckered. Normally, Poppy had a zero-tolerance policy when it came to her sleeping schedule; one that she defended with all kinds of nasty hexes, as he himself had had to experience first-hand. The only exception, of course, was in cases of emergency; but in that instance, every one of the school’s teachers would have been informed. And Severus knew for a fact that Albus’ Patronus would have easily found him no matter where he had been, even deep down in the woods.

Trying to get a better look, he scooted a bit closer, making sure not to step out of the protective cover provided by the nighttime shadows, just as the matron moved aside to let her conversation partner exit the room. To say that he was surprised when he saw Granger set foot in the dark corridor would have been an understatement.

He had not seen her since they had shared that quick hug in the Entrance Hall; as far as he was aware, she had not even attended the game earlier. Presently, she was dressed in what seemed to be a light grey bathrobe over a pair of red plaid cotton pyjamas, with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck – certainly a drastic difference to the risky Halloween costume she had worn just a few days earlier.

Severus watched as the Gryffindor exchanged a few more unintelligible words with the elderly healer before turning around and walking off into the direction of the Grand Staircase, her cloth slippers audibly dragging across the stone floor. He waited until the door to the infirmary had been pulled shut before moving to stealthily follow her. The thoughts in his head were running wild. Why had she been there, at this time of night at that?! Had she somehow gotten injured? Had she contracted some sort of disease? Panic already arousing in him, Snape forced himself to calm down. No, he would have been told if his personal apprentice had become sick or gotten hurt. Also, he knew that Poppy would never discharge a patient in the middle of the night. So what was really going on?

The strides of his long legs great, he was quick to catch up to her petite figure.

“Miss Granger,” he growled, causing the witch to jump in surprise. “What were you doing in the Hospital Wing at this hour? It is almost one o’clock in the morning, so you are not only outside of visiting hours but also past curfew!”

“Merlin, keep your voice down or someone will hear you!”

Severus did not even have enough time to get angry about being shushed by a student – or to blush at his new love interest tightly gripping his arm – before Granger pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. Pulling out her wand, she quickly locked the door and cast a privacy charm before turning around to face him.

“My apologies, sir.” She regarded him with a slight frown on her face. “But I simply could not risk anyone eavesdropping on us.”

“I demand to know the meaning of this right now, Miss Granger!” snarled Snape.

After giving him a long and calculated look, the young woman tilted her head as she asked, “Can you keep a secret, Professor?”

“Keep a secret?” He almost felt as though he had just been insulted. “I was a Death Eater and a double agent for longer than you have been alive, you foolish girl!”

Granger ignored his little emotional outburst. “I will take that as a yes.” She walked over to one of the wooden tables in the front row and leant against it. “My visit to the infirmary did not concern myself.”

Severus just glared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Rather, I was there to act as a sort of moral support for Ginny.”

“Miss Weasley.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she confirmed nonetheless. “I’m sure that you noticed her absence at today’s game. You see, her and Harry have been an item for a while now. But it seems as though they recently had a little mishap.”

The Potions professor was growing more and more impatient. Potter and anything concerning him was one of his least favourite subjects.

“A mishap of what sort?” he pressed her.

“Well …” Seemingly searching for the right words, Snape thought that he could see her face turn red a little. “A mishap as they became more intimate. Carelessness in the heat of passion, if you will.”

Snape’s eyes turned big and he could feel a burning sensation starting to spread in his cheeks.

“You mean …” He could not even bring himself to say it.

Granger nodded. “Ginny got pregnant. She obviously freaked out, not knowing what to do. So after she confided in me, I set up a secret appointment with Madam Pomfrey.”

She did not elaborate further, looking at him as though he should know where the story was going. But after a few seconds of Severus just staring back at her blankly, she finally lost her patience.

“The pregnancy was terminated.”

“WHAT?”

Granger simply rolled her eyes. “Come on, Professor! Don’t act like you aren’t aware that things like this happen at our school all the time. Every year, there’s at least half a dozen of girls seeking Madam Pomfrey’s assistance in such matters.”

“No, I did not know that!” he barked back. “What do the girl’s parents have to say to all of this? And Potter?!”

She offered him a sad smile. “He doesn’t know.”

“What?!” he exclaimed appalled. “How could that idiot not know he impregnated a fellow student?”

“Ginny just never told him. I advised her to do so, of course; but she didn’t want to. And at the end of the day, it’s her body and her choice. All I can do is be there for her as a friend.” She crossed her arms. “It’s probably for the best anyway. Harry would have tried to convince her to continue with the pregnancy for sure, and they’re just not ready for that kind of responsibility. I mean, neither of them has even finished their education yet! And while Harry might have brought about Voldemort’s downfall, he cannot even keep up with his schoolwork, let alone take care of a child.”

Severus was taken aback by the maturity in her voice. “She is probably right,” he thought. He did not even want to imagine having to deal with another Potter brat in eleven years’ time; just the idea of it made him shudder. Still, the thought of two students being sexually active made him highly uncomfortable somehow. Ironic, considering his own current emotional state.

“And so that’s the reason why I was in the Hospital Wing,” he could hear the brunette conclude.

“Very well.” He let out an audible sigh. “10 points from Gryffindor.”

“Excuse me?!” she bellowed.

“Miss Granger, as the school’s Head Girl, you should lead by example. Wandering around the castle after curfew is a punishable offence.” He smirked. “Regardless of the circumstances.”

It was painfully obvious that that was an attempt at lightening the mood, and the brightest witch of her age threw her hands up in frustration.

“You really are something, Professor Snape! I guess I better get going before you deduct even more points – for ridiculous reasons, I might add!”

She removed her magical guards and made for the door.

“One last thing, Miss Granger.”

A head of full brown locks turned to him. “Yes?”

Severus regarded her quizzically. “Why would you tell me such damning information willingly?”

“Oh, I don’t believe you would ever tell, sir. You would have to admit to having conversations with your apprentice in private, after all.”

And with one last cheeky grin, she disappeared into the night.

(Click here for chapter 15!)

[crescentmoon223]

Two Worlds Collide Chapter 13

Read it on AO3 | Rated: NC-17 | Stella x Scully

Chapter 13

Scully stared at Stella without really seeing her. She gasped for breath, tears blurring her vision, emotion pouring out of her in an uncontrollable wave so intense she couldn’t speak.

“Dana, what’s happened?” Stella asked quietly.

Scully lifted a hand, gesturing for Stella to come and sit beside her at the kitchen table. Stella sat, so close her shoulder bumped Scully’s as she looked at the letter spread out in front of them. Scully smoothed her hands over it, noticing a dark circle in the middle of the paper, a teardrop threatening to smudge the impossible, improbable words written there.

Stella clasped her fingers around Scully’s as she began to read. Scully released a shaky, shuddering breath, her eyes tracking to the words on the paper, words she’d already read a dozen times. Somehow, the letter felt more real now that she had someone to share it with, to confirm this was really happening.

Fox and Dana,

We’ve debated many times whether to send this letter, whether it’s in Will’s best interest, in ours, or in yours, but he’s a strong-willed boy, and he’s been very insistent. We’ve heard about your circumstances from Agent Doggett, the reasons you had to give him up for adoption, and that the danger to Will and to yourselves is now past.

So, we’d like to honor our son’s wishes and invite you to his eleventh birthday party. He knows who you are, knows an age appropriate amount of information about your situation, and he would very much like to meet you both.

We hope that, for his sake, we can all come together to honor his wish, and that, if it goes well, and if it’s what he wants, you might be able to keep in touch with him in some small way. The last thing we want to do is disrupt his life in any way, but we also don’t feel like it can be a bad thing for him to have more people in his life who love him.

You’ll find a copy of the invitation enclosed. Please send your response as quickly as possible. We haven’t told Will that we agreed to his request, so if your answer is no, we’ll simply tell him we decided it was best to wait until he was older to try to get in touch. We don’t want him to be hurt by any of this, so please, if you decide to come, make sure that you’re doing so for Will’s sake, and with his best interests at heart.

Best,

Tom and Marsha Van De Kamp

 Stella looked up, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Dana…”

“I know,” she gasped, fingers clenching around Stella’s. She sucked in a breath and held it, trying to get control of herself. Her heart raced, and her lungs spasmed from the intensity of her tears. She exhaled slowly.

“This is a big development,” Stella said quietly. “Did you have any idea it was coming?”

“No,” she whispered. Her head swam. Her pulse was rapid, and a sheen of cold sweat coated her skin. She was hyperventilating. She might even be suffering the mild effects of shock. She tried to take another slow breath, pressing a hand against her diaphragm.

“I’m very happy for you.” Stella’s thumb traced back and forth over the palm of her hand, so soothing.

Scully concentrated on her touch, swallowing thickly. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. “I need…a drink of water.”

“I’ll get it.” There was a scrape of wood against linoleum as Stella stood, and a minute later, Scully heard the clunk of a glass against the table. “Here you are.”

She wiped the tears from her face, meeting Stella’s concerned gaze and offering her a shaky smile. Then she gulped the glass of water Stella had placed in front of her. “Thank you.”

“Are you all right?” Stella pressed a hand over hers, warm and soft against Scully’s cold, clammy skin.

She nodded, causing fresh tears to spill over her cheeks. “I’m going to see him, Stella.”

She smiled. “Yes, you are.”

“I have to call Mulder,” she whispered.

Stella pushed back from the table. “I should go.”

“No.” She gripped Stella’s hand. “Please stay.” I need you…

Stella nodded. She stood and walked into the living room to give Scully some privacy for the call. And so, for the first time since arriving in London almost a month ago, she dialed Mulder’s number. It was mid-afternoon on the East Coast. He’d be sitting in his office chasing conspiracy theories, maybe looking at a letter like the one she held and feeling like the earth had just shifted beneath his feet.

A chance to see their son…

Will. The Van De Kamps called him Will. He was turning eleven. Fresh tears spilled over her eyelids as the phone rang in her ear.

“Hello,” he answered, his voice so clear, he might have been sitting at the table across from her.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey, Scully.” He sounded tired. “How’s London?”

London? He wanted to talk about London? “Mulder…did you get the letter? The one Doggett sent us?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

She sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around the phone. “I can’t believe it. After all this time, we’re going to see him again. I don’t even know what to think. I’m just…in shock.”

“You’re going, then?” he asked.

“Of course, I’m going. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, Scully. I feel like I’ve had to put William behind me to move on with my life. Maybe it’s best to leave him there.”

“What?” She pressed a hand against her chest as more tears rolled over her cheeks. “But…he wants to see you. He wants to see us. We’ve been given a chance that might never come again.” A chance to make things right…

“You should go,” Mulder said. “I know how much he means to you. You should definitely go.”

“Mulder, he’s our son. Our son. How could you even think about not going?” Her eyes swept the kitchen, seeking and finding the baby photo of William tacked to the fridge. She remembered the way he felt in her arms, so soft and warm, the solid weight of him against her chest. She could still hear his delighted giggle as he yanked her hair and see the little star-printed hat with ears he’d been wearing the day she gave him away…

“I just don’t think it would be a good idea for me right now,” Mulder said, suddenly sounding hollow and tinny, as though an ocean separated them after all.

“You’re making a mistake,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, it’s my mistake to make. I have to go.”

The line clicked, and she sat there for a long moment, staring at her phone. Then Stella was there, looking at Scully with sympathetic eyes. She lurched out of her chair, wood screeching against linoleum as she pressed herself into Stella’s embrace.

“He’s not going,” she whispered, hands fisting in Stella’s blouse as her tears left dark spots on the gray silk. “How could he not go?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Stella said as she rubbed her back. “And they don’t have to be your reasons.”

“I’m going to see him,” she sobbed, clinging to Stella. “After all these years, I’m going to see William. I never thought…”

“Shh.” Stella guided her toward the couch, pushing her down to sit. “You deserve this,” she murmured, still rubbing Scully’s back. “You deserve this.”

“He goes by Will now.” She hiccupped, her face still buried against Stella’s blouse.

“It’s a good name.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Did you see the invitation? It’s a Harry Potter themed party. I’ve never read Harry Potter…”

Stella held her, one hand stroking her hair as Scully cried on her shoulder.

“After I gave him up, I couldn’t bring myself to read any of the books we might have enjoyed together. It didn’t feel right.”

“Well, I’m sure you could read it before next weekend,” Stella said calmly. “Or even on the flight to Wyoming. It will be a long flight.”

“Have you read it?” she whispered, turning her face so that her cheek pressed against the cool silk of Stella’s blouse as her tears finally slowed.

“No.”

“Will you come with me?” she blurted, fingers still clutching Stella’s shirt.

“Dana, I don’t think that would be appropriate, and it’s certainly not a good idea.”

“Not to the party,” she clarified. “I’ll do that on my own. But will you come to Wyoming with me? We could make it a long weekend together, see what there is to see out there. Grand Teton. Old Faithful.”

Stella was quiet for a long minute, still stroking Scully’s hair. She closed her eyes, focusing on that soothing gesture, the comfort of Stella’s fingers grounding her when everything else inside her still felt like it was spinning, like the poles had been reversed and she was dangling upside down, trying to find her way back up.

“Of course, I’ll come,” Stella said finally. “If you’re sure it’s what you want.”

“It is.” Fresh tears soaked Stella’s blouse. “Thank you.”

“Dana…”

Scully lifted her head, meeting Stella’s eyes, overcome by a rush of emotion so powerful she almost started crying again. I love you.

The words came to her without thought, and she knew them immediately to be true. She loved Stella, loved the fierce way Stella cared about the people in her life, including the victims she fought so hard for. She loved the seemingly limitless passion between them, the way Stella could shatter her into a million blissful pieces and put her back together with a single smile. She loved that Stella would drop anything for her if she asked.

Somehow, over the past few weeks when she was supposed to have been throwing her heart and soul into her new fellowship, she’d fallen head over heels in love with the woman sitting next to her, the woman currently staring at her with unabashed affection in her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Scully whispered.

“I’m glad I am too.” Stella’s arms tightened around her.

And she didn’t let go, not when Scully woke in the middle of the night, sobbing, and not when she screamed obscenities at Mulder sometime before daybreak. Neither of them got much sleep that night, and Scully was so tired the next morning, she felt like crying all over again at the thought of the twelve-hour shift ahead of her.

“I’m too old for this,” she mumbled into her coffee.

“No, you’re not,” Stella told her as she set a plate of toast on the table between them. “You’re just emotionally wrung-out, and that’s more exhausting than the most grueling workday.”

“That’s true.” She picked up a piece of toast gratefully.

“So, chin up,” Stella told her, sliding a finger beneath Scully’s chin for effect. “Today will be long, but I’ll be here for you at the end of it.”

“Thank you.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she leaned in to kiss Stella. “I mean it.”

Stella dropped her gaze to the table. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. And I don’t want it to end when my fellowship is over.” She exhaled, watching as Stella stiffened, knowing immediately she’d said too much.

“Dana…let’s not do this right now, not this morning of all mornings.”

“I could stay in London. I could get a job here.” It wasn’t even that outrageous. She loved it here, and she was about to start her career over from scratch no matter where she lived.

“When you finally have a chance to get to know your son in the states?” Stella finally met her eyes, her expression sharp.

“Do you have any idea how far Wyoming is from Maryland? If I get the chance to see him again, and that’s a big ‘if,’ but if I do, what difference does it make which airport I fly out of to get there?”

Stella stared broodily into her coffee, feathers clearly ruffled by the topic at hand. If Scully had taken the time to think before she spoke, she would have foreseen this reaction. It was perfectly predictable, and yet, it still hurt…a lot if she was being honest with herself. She’d spent so many years loving a man who had always loved his work more than he’d loved her, and now she’d fallen for a woman who was the same way, a woman who would give every ounce of her soul if it would save even one of the victims she sought to protect on the job, but couldn’t give Scully the simple satisfaction of agreeing to live in the same city with her.

And right now, on this particular morning, it was more than she could bear.

“You know what, forget I said anything.” She stood from the table, tossing her uneaten toast in the trash. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Dana…” Stella trailed behind her as she grabbed her bag, heading for the door.

“Don’t say anything,” Scully told her, seizing hold of her anger and using it to banish the tears that had threatened moments before. “You’ve already made yourself perfectly clear.”

Stella ran her tongue over her teeth, chin jutting in defiance, but she said nothing, following Scully quietly out the door. The air between them prickled with unspoken words and hurt feelings as they made their way down the stairs to the street.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Scully turned away, walking as fast as she could in the direction of the tube station, walking off her anger. By the time she’d arrived at the hospital, she was just plain tired. And now that she’d cooled off, she was a little bit ashamed of the way she’d treated Stella that morning.

Stella had held her all night, had promised to fly all the way to Wyoming with her to hold her together after she went to William’s birthday party, and how did Scully repay her? By biting her head off when Stella balked at the idea of Scully moving to London, which she’d dropped on her completely out of the blue after a sleepless night.

But still…

Even though she knew it was irrational, she was hurt that Stella hadn’t at least been willing to consider something more. Which meant, she was really only mad at herself for wanting more from Stella than she was able to give. Deep down, people couldn’t change the way they were. Mulder and Stella were both loners, and Scully was the unlucky, ignorant fool who’d fallen in love with both of them.

Well, it ended here. She could go to Wyoming alone. She’d been alone—emotionally, at least—when she gave birth to William and when she’d given him up for adoption. It was only fitting that she would take this next step in their journey on her own too.

She buried herself in work to keep her emotions at bay, completing a total of three autopsies, the third of which came after she’d driven with Dr. Linenburger to a crime scene on the outskirts of London to examine the body first on site. As she donned the white protective suit that law enforcement wore here in the UK, adrenaline burned away her fatigue. This was the first time she’d stood at an active crime scene in ten years.

“It’s good to be back,” she whispered to herself.

No matter where she ended up when all was said and done, it was good to be back.

It was past nine when she finally left the hospital that night. She was exhausted, famished, and emotionally brittle. She hadn’t heard from Stella all day. Neither of them had sent their usual text to coordinate whose flat they’d stay at tonight or what they should do for dinner.

Scully wanted to cry as she walked up the street toward home. Her cupboards were bare, but she was too tired—physically and emotionally—to stop somewhere for food on her way. Was this it, then? Had she and Stella broken up? Were they finished?

No. Scully would go to her tomorrow and apologize—after she’d had some sleep—but she might suggest that they add some space back into their lives if it was all going to end in a few short weeks when Scully’s fellowship was over.

As she walked, it started to rain, ice cold drops splashing over her head and shoulders. A slow drizzle soon turned into a deluge, and Scully was caught in her scrubs, no umbrella, soaked to the skin within minutes. She cast her eyes upward, cursing against this sad, soggy end to her already shitty day.

She sloshed her way up the street, sneakers squishing with each step. A peanut butter sandwich would have to suffice for dinner. And maybe a glass of wine, although she wasn’t even sure she had any. She and Stella had polished off a bottle together a few nights ago, and it might have been Scully’s last. As she turned onto her street, she blinked back tears.

Fuck this day right to hell and back.

That’s when she saw someone standing on the front step of her building. A woman. Her head was obscured by a black hood, but Scully would know that petite frame anywhere. She stopped in the middle of the street, shivering as rainwater trickled down her spine, shoulders squared, jaw clenched. Stella came toward her, stopping a few feet away, expression guarded, arms clasped around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Scully’s shoulders slumped as all the fight went out of her. “Me too.”

“I just don’t want you to make a mistake, especially not because of me.” Stella’s gaze dropped to the pavement, water flowing around the toes of her shoes.

“Being with you doesn’t feel like a mistake.” Scully took a step closer. This was a stupid conversation to have in the rain, even stupider than it had been this morning over a plate of uneaten toast after a sleepless night.

“Moving here for me would be,” Stella said.

“Why?” Raindrops rolled over her cheeks. They felt like tears. Maybe they were. Maybe she was so wet and so emotionally overwrought she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“Because you have a life and a family in America, a mother who loves you, a son you’re just about to reunite with. Those are permanent, important things, and I’m—”

“Also important.” She closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms around Stella. “Surely you realize that.”

“I’m not permanent.” Something cracked in Stella’s voice on that last word, and Scully felt like the earth had split open beneath their feet, a gulf yawning between them.

“You could be,” she whispered, throat aching with tears.

Stella swallowed hard, looking up into the rain-soaked sky. Raindrops slicked her cheeks, or maybe they were tears. Maybe they were both crying, or maybe neither of them was. “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.”

“Stella…”

“I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“I know.” She gulped. Her nose was running, and she had the totally irrational urge to laugh, to just double over and laugh until something in her life made sense, because right now nothing did. “I know. Thank you.”

Stella’s arms came around her, the plasticky surface of her jacket sleeves sending a shudder through Scully’s body as they slid over her bare skin. “I’m trying,” she whispered. “I really am.”

“Please keep trying,” Scully whispered back.

Stella kissed her in response, an answer of another kind, a language Stella was more comfortable with when it came to expressing emotion. Scully met her kiss, cold wet lips pressed against cold wet lips, and since it really wasn’t fair that Stella was still relatively dry inside her jacket while Scully felt like she’d just come out of a dunking tank, she pushed her fingers through Stella’s hair so that her hood fell back. They pressed together, water dripping everywhere, fabric scraping and skin slipping. Stella’s teeth skimmed Scully’s bottom lip, tongue teasing, as hot as the rest of her was cold, and then they were kissing for real.

Scully shut her eyes against the rain still splattering relentlessly over her head, absorbing the feel of Stella’s mouth on hers and the firm grip of her hands on Scully’s ass. Rainwater ran between their lips, cold mixing with hot, and how was she ever supposed to let go of any of this? This moment, this woman, this life here in London. She wanted it all, and she wanted it to last forever.

“Come on,” Stella murmured against her lips. “Let’s go inside.”

She nodded in agreement, remembering her bare cupboards as her stomach reminded her of its presence with a loud rumble. But she was so glad to have Stella back she didn’t even care if she had to feed them both peanut butter sandwiches tonight.

“I brought food,” Stella said, guiding Scully toward her front door and the plastic bag sitting on the top step. Her beautiful blonde curls were plastered to her face now, and Scully felt guilty for pushing off her hood.

I love you, she thought desperately. I love you so much.

And despite what Stella said, she was permanent, because she would be in Scully’s heart forever, no matter how many miles ended up between them.

[anthemverseduology]

The Stranger and the Priest

“Tell us a story, Uncle Ven! Something really scary,” Valentine said, looking up at me from the pile of candy he'd just dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. He shared a name with another candy-adjacent holiday, but the boy was obsessed with all things Halloween. “Something with blood and guts and ooze!”

“Ew! Nothing gross!” Francine swatted Val on the shoulder, a look of annoyance twisting her features. “You always get stories about gross things! This year Uncle Ven should tell us something really spooky, not just icky.”

I leaned back in my chair, surveying the tiny audience that had gathered in front of where I sat next to the fireplace. My own daughter sat in the middle of the bunch, looking up at me expectantly. “Tell them the story of The Stranger and the Priest,” she suggested, opening her third mini box of Junior Mints before tossing three of them back at once.

“Cece, I don't know that everyone here is ready for that story. You know why,” I said, raising my eyebrows at her slightly.

“How come I don't know this story?” Taylor grumbled. My brother's son was the oldest of his generation of kids, but still not old enough to join the party upstairs with the older family members, and he was disgruntled at having to spend his pre-midnight hours with 'the babies'. “Dad's told me all of these old stories anyway.”

“You've never heard this one,” Cece said, rolling her eyes. “I know.”

“We know that you know, know-it-all,” Taylor snipped.

“Alright, cool your jets, Lore,” I said, holding up a hand as I leaned forward in my chair. “You're all sure that you're ready to hear this?” A chorus of happy shouts and rustling candy wrappers filled the air, and the flames in the fireplace roared a little higher.

“Tell them, Dad,” Cece said, sitting up straighter.

I took a deep breath, picking up my coffee from the table next to me taking a sip of the dark liquid. “It was many years ago, and a man of the cloth found himself sitting side-by-side with a dark stranger that he'd never seen before...”

***

The stranger's black hair was matted to his head, ribbons of rain ran down his face, and droplets gathered and steamed off of his warm skin. He shivered, wrapping his denim jacket around himself further, though it seemed to do the man no good. The bartender, Sal, walked over to lean his hands against the edge of the counter, eyeing the priest for a moment before taking the stranger's order. “Double whiskey, neat, and keep them coming,” the man said, the timbre of his voice low.

The priest turned to the man, offering his hand, which the man looked at suspiciously. “I'm Father Michael,” he said, smiling though he withdrew his suggested handshake, picking up his glass of whiskey on the rocks to tilt in the stranger's direction. “You look like a man with troubles.”

“You could say that again, padre,” the stranger said with a scoff as Sal set a glass down in front of him, filling it half-full with bottom-shelf whiskey. He shuddered hard before picking his glass up, draining the alcohol from it in one gulp. “I hate getting caught in the rain.”

“That's not all that's bothering you, is it?” Father Michael said, leaning back in his chair a little to study the man a little further. Every stitch of clothing the man wore, from his jacket down to the tips of his hard-heeled boots, was black; made darker by the amount of water soaking him. “Only priests, nuns, marauders, and mourners wear that much black. Which one are you? If you tell me you're a nun I'll eat my collar.”

“I gave up my habit for lent,” the man said with a humorless, curt laugh. Sal walked over to refill the stranger's glass, but the man held up his hand. “Listen, Sal, just leave the bottle.”

Father Michael watched curiously as the stranger pulled out a gold money clip that was full of large bills. The man took two-hundred dollars from the clip, handing it to Sal before shoving it back down into his pocket. “You intend to drink that whole bottle by yourself?” Father Michael asked, raising his eyebrows as Sal walked away with wide-eyes.

The stranger looked at him curiously before uncorking the bottle, pouring liquid into Father Michael's glass. “I find that having to depend on other people to pour my shots gets tedious. Don't mind so much pouring shots for other people, though,” he said almost wistfully.

“Forgive me for prying, but I've seen that look in many a soul's eyes. You've lost something or someone important. Might help you to talk about it. It's part of the gig to listen,” Father Michael said with a smirk as he raised his glass. “Even after office hours! I won't charge.”

“Well, as you're drinking whiskey I just purchased...” the man said chuckling lightly. “Maybe you're right? If anyone who's ever known me could see me talking to you right now, I'd be laughed all the way into Hell's Fire.”

“The people you know aren't big on the clergy?” Father Michael asked, leaning an elbow against the edge of the bar.

“They're elitists, and at that, I can't blame any of them. They're just following my poor examples,” the stranger said, shooting back whiskey from his glass. “And it's just the monotony of it all! The same cycles and routines, day in and day out. Nothing ever changes.”

“Well, as a person with a solid set of routines—day in and day out—I've seen that while my circumstances don't change, I change right in the middle of them,” Father Michael said, shrugging a shoulder slightly. “Maybe that's one reason you might be frustrated.”

“I know that I've out-grown my whole life, but it won't let me be. I have this job that I have to do, and no one else can be trusted with it. You certainly wouldn't approve of it,” the man said, pouring himself another glass full of alcohol.

“Eh, my approval doesn't mean as much as the guy I work for...I understand having a job that can be tough.” Father Michael frowned, tilting his head. “Sometimes I think about leaving the church. Brief moments when I wonder if there's something I'm missing. In those times, I pray and rededicate myself to what I really love above all else.”

“Heaven On High,” the stranger said, his voice barely a whisper. “I had that once. I loved who I was and what I was, and I would have done anything for a little bit of grace...”

“What changed?” Father Michael asked.

“Being on this planet is what changed me. At first, when I was young, I thought that I would get my revenge on anyone or anything that had ever wronged me. I'd be the monster they made me out to be. Over time, I don't want that anymore. I want peace. I have this dream sometimes about an angel,” the stranger said, his smile finally reaching his bright-blue eyes. “What's the use in chasing dreams and ghosts...”

“Usually when people see angels they're facing some major change in their life,” Father Michael said, holding out a hand. “It's a good thing when they appear.”

“You haven't met a lot of angels have you, Michael?” the man asked, arching one dark, pointed brow. “Why do you come to this bar? It's empty and drafty, and the only person here to talk to on a regular basis is Sal, and he's been here as long as the building has.”

“I'm not that old,” Sal called from where he stood, putting glasses in a rack above his head. “My dad was gray by the time he was my age.”

“It's definitely not your genes that keep you youthful,” the stranger said, propping his elbow on the back of his bar stool. “Why do you come here to stare at Sal's mug all of the time, Michael?”

“In another life, this was a special place for me. Before I was a priest I was a person, you know. Most of us were,” Father Michael said, hearing his self-mocking tone ringing in his own ears. “There was someone that I cared about a lot, but she went away, and I found another path.”

The stranger poured a generous portion of the whiskey left in his bottle into his glass. “Sometimes paths come full circle,” he said, staring into the amber liquid as the bell over the door chimed, and the sound of rain cascading from the overhang just outside covered the sound of an Eagles song playing on the stereo. “We're all just chasing ghosts.”

“Anabelle?” the priest said, rising swiftly to his feet, staring in shock at the woman before him. “How is this possible? I was just thinking about you!”

“It's good to see you, Michael,” Anabelle said, smiling sweetly. “I hope that you don't mind me stopping in here. It's pouring outside, and I was just in the area.”

“No, no! It's wonderful to see you,” Father Michael said, stepping forward to hug her gently. His heart raced as he drew back from her, his gaze settling on the vivid gray of her eyes. He led her over to the bar, taking a dry tea towel from Sal to hand to Anabelle. She toweled lightly at her dripping hair and her wet coat before sitting down on the bar stool to Father Michael's left.

“What'll you have, Ann?” Sal asked, putting a glass down in front of her, as if he already knew what her answer would be.

“Soda and lime?” Anabelle asked more than declared as Sal opened a bottle of cola, poured it in, and stuck the wedge of lime on the brim. “Your memory's as good as ever, Sal.”

“You know how it is,” Sal said, looking at her in a manner that Father Michael thought to be curious. “You were in the area, you said?”

“I had something to take care of in the borough, so I was around. I decided to take a walk, for nostalgia's sake, and then the clouds broke open,” Anabelle said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “It was silly of me to go walking alone at night at all.”

“You should be careful. You're safe now, though,” Father Michael said before turning to the stranger. “This is Anabelle Tinas. Ann, this is—I never caught your name, mister...?”

“I'm called Luc,” the stranger said, finally introducing himself. “Anabelle knows that, though.”

“You've met?” Father Michael was starting to become a little uneasy. He hadn't seen Anabelle in years, and he'd never seen Luc in the bar at all, but somehow this man knew two people Father Michael had known for over a decade. “I must not get out often enough.”

“Anabelle works for me,” Luc said, flattening his lips as he kept his eyes on the bar top. “Sal, does, too.”

Father Michael laughed softly, looking from Luc to Anabelle, then to Sal. “Listen, I thought This Is Your Life went off-air years ago. Why am I getting the sense that you three know something that I don't know?”

“Do you remember that night in '52? I got you to walk me home because I wasn't feeling well?” Anabelle asked, gently folding the dampened tea towel in her hands.

“You had a fever, and you were tired. How can I forget? It was the last time that I ever saw you,” Father Michael said. “I didn't know what might have happened to you. No one in your building would say, and I didn't know where to look. I feared the worst for years. I thought you may well have...died.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” Anabelle said, reaching out to pat Father Michael on the hand. “No need to worry about me. I'm just collecting your debt.”

“What debt?” Father Michael asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I asked you, that night, what you would do for me,” Anabelle said, quietly. “I asked you if you would ever sell your soul for something. I asked you if there was anything so important that you would give up eternity in Heaven. You said that if there was such a thing as a price for a soul that you would pay it to live a peaceful life.”

“I was young and foolish, and trying to impress a pretty girl with fancy words,” Father Michael was beginning to realize that he'd stepped into a snare without even realizing it. “I was in love with you, Ann.”

“I asked if you were certain that you would sell your soul to live in peace and you said, 'Yes'. I wish that I could have been in love with you, but that's not how my kind works,” Anabelle said, her tone sad.

“Apologies for that,” Luc said, raising a hand, as if he was taking ownership. “You do seem like a very nice man, Michael, but now you have a choice. I don't have the power to see precisely when you're going to die, but I can tell you that it'll be soon. Being that you're a friend of Anabelle's and Sal's, and as I had nothing else going on at the moment besides sitting around daydreaming...I thought that I'd pay you a personal visit. Didn’t count on the damned rain, though.”

Father Michael moved away from his bar stool, a look of alarm on his face. “When I said that—all of those years ago—I meant that I wanted peace with you, Ann. Then you disappeared, and I had to go on. I couldn't imagine loving anyone else, so I took my vows and...”

“And you found peace,” Luc said, closing his eyes briefly as Sal lowered his head. “That's the way deals with demons work, I'm afraid. You'll get what you desire, but something always goes awry. That's Heaven On High trying to right the wrong, so the Path shifts. Anabelle has been a demon in my service for quite some time now, and you did make a deal.”

Father Michael backed away even further. “Luc...short for—”

“Yes, short for that,” Luc said sharply, standing up from his bar stool. “You can choose to perish at your allotted time, and then you'll burn in Hell Fire, or you can choose to become a demon in the service of Hell's army. I'd be honored to have you, Michael. Other than being robbed of your positive emotions, it's not really all that bad.”

“Not that bad? My whole life is countering your every move!” Father Michael said. “I'd give up Heaven!”

“Man, you've already missed that elevator,” Sal said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You've got two choices, Mike. Die and burn, or serve Hell. What's it gonna be?”

Father Michael felt his back bump into the wall, and he held Anabelle's gaze. “If I say yes, will I be able to be with you?”

“You'll barely care,” Luc said, rolling eyes that flashed with flames, and some other lonesome look that Father Michael couldn't put his finger on.

“‘Barely’ is enough,” Father Michael said, taking a step towards Anabelle. “The only questions I've ever asked myself were if you were still alive, and what would life have been like if I hadn't lost you somehow. What do I have to do?”

“That easy?” Luc asked, arching a brow. “You devoted yourself to On High, and you would turn against them because you've been in love with the same woman for years?”

“Think of your dream angel,” Father Michael said. “What would you do if you found her?”

Luc stood blinking at Father Michael for a moment, seeming to think on what he'd suggested before he waved a hand through the air. “She doesn't exist. She's just a mirage...So, you agree to becoming a soldier in Hell's army?”

“I agree,” Father Michael said. At that instant he felt like something inside himself imploded, even while he felt like he was on fire. Lightning flashed outside of the windows; bright, golden illumination that made the night seem like day time. He doubled over as wave after wave of nausea attacked, and he vomited up dark green bile, mixed with whiskey. The former priest hit his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath as pain rolled over his spine and his nerve-endings. He cried out, the air chilling his skin as the pain finally subsided. The lights from the bar were bright one moment, then dim the next, and Michael realized that Sal must have turned the lights off entirely. “Now...what happens?”

“I like you, Mike,” Luc said, tilting his head back. “I think that we're gonna get along nicely.”

“For some reason I'm not worried about what that means.” Michael turned his eyes to the floor before looking up to Anabelle. “I know what I said before, but now it all seems so pointless.”

“The ache will fade over time,” she said, stepping forward to put a hand to the side of Michael's face. “You'll serve our lord well.”

“Our lord...” Michael said, realizing that there was no way out. His fate had been sealed long ago, and now he stood in front of his new king, Lucifer, Light Bringer; the Devil.

***

“That's not scary at all,” Taylor said, flopping back to lean against the front of the love seat. “That's just one demon story in a bunch of other demon stories.”

“The grossest stuff in that story was the love parts. Blech,” Val said, bumping the side of his fist against Taylor's.

“One day you'll grow up to figure out that the love parts are the scariest parts, and the most tragic parts,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, that is a true story. Do you know who bought Sal's Pub?”

“You, Dad,” Cece chirped, her smile turning from bright to wicked. “And I know what happened to Michael.”

The other children turned to look at her expectantly, knowing their cousin's abilities to see things that they couldn't. “Well, where is Michael now?” Taylor asked, bobbing his head.

“He's right here,” a voice boomed as a lamp clicked on in the corner of the room to reveal Mike, smiling maniacally. Even infernal and vampire children are easy to startle at a young age, and they fled the room, the ground rumbling slightly at their involuntary flexing of power. “Every ten years I get to do that, and it's always fun.”

I stood up, looking down at Cece, shaking my head. “You set Uncle Mike up perfectly.”

“It's a tradition,” Cece said in her sweet, small voice as she climbed to her feet to shuffle after her fleeing cousins. “It had to be done. Hell Fire, they are such babies...”

“You're still a baby, so mind the language, Cecelia!” I called after her sighing deeply. “It's always somethin', huh, Mike?”

Mike hummed in agreeance, moving over to stand next to me. “It is. My kids are driving me up the wall. Hey, though...parent’s candy tax,” he said, looking down at the floor before looking back up to me.

“Happy Halloween, Father Michael,” I said with a grin.

Mike scoffed loudly, reaching down to pick up a bag of chocolates. “Save it for next year, man.”

[dragonshost]

Pairing: Mard Geer/Lucy Series: Fairy Tail

Chapter 3 is finally out!  It’s almost 2k.  Link above, and the fic is below the cut.

Teardrops Are Racing Our Stopwatch Our Hope Is In A Headlock Tomorrow Always Comes Too Soon

-Seven Lions "Way To Say Goodbye"

Previously...

Phoenix lifted her head from the stone tiles, water pouring from her eyes and running down her face - her wrinkles canals of saltwater.

"Kill my summoner."

Lucy recoiled from the spirit, her feet carrying her backwards until her back collided with Ortez, and she wobbled. Warm hands steadied her shoulders, but she barely registered the contact - her eyes fixated, unblinking, on the still bowing spirit. "K-kill?" she stuttered. Her heart hammered in her rib-cage. "You want me to... to what?"

The old spirit's form shuddered with every breath she took, but she held Lucy's gaze with rock steady determination and steel behind her eyes. "I need you to kill the last person to summon me. You are the only one I can ask - there is no one else that bears the trust of the Celestial King, and the requisite power to carry the task out."

Lucy continued to stare at the spirit. She swallowed thickly, unable to string along a sentence.

Kill someone? Her? Why would a spirit ever ask this of her? Let alone a spirit she didn't even have a contract with.

Beside Phoemix, Corvus shifted uncomfortably as the stare-off went too long, sweat beading on his skin. It was clear he would rather be anywhere other than in the middle of this. "Um... Grandmother. Maybe you should... should explain the situation more," the crow spirit suggested. "And... um... maybe we should get some cushions before my new key holder keels over!" A high pitched, garbled noise of pure distress emanated from his throat. "I can't believe she pulled this right from the get go, oh stars why is this happening why are old people like this?!" he said, words tumbling out of his mouth like an unstopped spigot.

Phoenix's eyes narrowed, and her head whipped around to glare at her grandson. "Old people are what now?"

"Not meant to be sitting on the ground so long! You know, creaky joints and all." Corvus spun on his heels, striding towards a partition woven from starlight that Lucy had mistaken for another part of the scenery. "So I'll go get cushions!"

Softly, the old spirit sighed, her gaze refocusing on Lucy's petrified body. "My grandson has a point. I must apologize - that was far too abrupt, and unspeakably rude. Would you care for some tea?"

Lucy didn't move, her tongue locked away behind her tightly clenched jaw.

"Thank you for the offer," Ortez spoke in her place, the proximity of his voice startling Lucy out of her stupor. "Although I would very much enjoy the opportunity to partake of tea from the Celestial World... it seems there are more urgent matters afoot."

Withdrawing a handkerchief, Phoenix dabbed her face with the cloth. "Nonsense," she huffed. "You are guests."

Guests whom she was asking to kill someone on her behalf.

"Aside from which, I already made it," Corvus added, returning with the promised cushions. Swiftly, he positioned them, and then helped his grandmother onto one. "I'll be... right back with that. Make yourselves comfortable."

They did so, and Lucy quietly thanked Ortez. To which he merely smiled kindly, and said, "You're most welcome, my dear."

Once they were settled, and the tea sitting in steaming cups before them, Yukino was the first to break the silence. "Forgive me, Phoenix-sama. But there's something I don't quite understand. Aside from anyone wanting Lucy-sama to kill someone, I mean."

The celestial mage was grateful that Yukino felt the same as her on that part. The tension had mostly drained out of the room with Corvus's nervous rambling earlier, but it was slowly seeping back into all those present.

"Yes?"

"I was under the impression that none of the Ghost keys had been summoned for a very, very long time. So I'm not sure how Lucy even could fulfill your request."

Yukino's words brought life back to her friend. "Yeah, thanks Yukino." Lucy stared hard at the two spirits sitting before her - one calm and stern, the other flushed and fidgeting. Though he was her grandson, Corvus possessed little of Phoenix's composure at the topic of discussion. "Grandpa Crux is never wrong when it comes to the history of Celestial Spirits. He said that it had been over 75 years since Corvus was last called upon, and I trust what he told me. In which case I would have to assume that your summoner is very, very old."

Phoenix help up her sleeve to cover her mouth, but the crinkling at the corners of her eyes gave away her amusement. "Indeed. My grandson was the most recently summoned of the Ghost keys. I was last summoned... what year is it in your world, again?"

"Year X791," George offered, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived in the Celestial World. "This tea is most excellent. Might I trouble you in taking home some of the leaves?"

"Certainly. I am pleased you find it suitable to your palate."

Corvus cleared his throat, trying to nudge Phoenix back onto the prior topic.

"There is always time for pleasantries, grandson," she stated.

"This is coming from the woman who skipped them and jumped straight into ordering a hit...?" His mouth snapped shut at a pointed look from Phoenix. The second she looked away, he muttered, "I'm just saying. People normally... work... their way up to that."

He was ignored.

"If the year is X791..." Phoenix said, thinking it over. "Then I suppose it must have been around four centuries since I was last in Earthland." She took a long sip of her tea.

The group collectively stared in silence for several moments.

"...Eh?" Lucy uttered, hardly processing the revelation.

Humming, Phoenix nodded. Her eyes were unfocused - her mind far away from where they sat. "Yes... a little over four centuries. Give or take a couple of decades. I was quite the spry young thing back then. Earthland was beautiful, and vast. So much to see, and Caelestis and I were determined to see it all. He... he promised me that we would." Her gaze drifted to her tea, clasped in her wrinkled, age-worn hands, riddled with spots. "Twas not to be, I'm afraid."

Something about the way she looked at herself, in the regret and sorrow in her voice, tugged at Lucy's heartstrings. "Please," she implored. "Please tell me why you want me to do this."

"It's a long, long story," Phoenix said. "And so much happened that I... I know how differently time flows between our worlds, and there isn't much time left for this to be resolved, if it can be. So please, excuse my hastiness earlier. I won't bore you with all the details, but you do deserve to know why."

Nodding, Lucy clutched her warm teacup. "Please."

"I misspoke before, when I asked you to kill him. That's not precisely what I want."

Lucy's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You see... my summoner already is dead. He has been for centuries." Phoenix closed her eyes in pain. "He was murdered, while I was out on an errand." Tears began to slide down her face once more. "My friend needed me there to protect him, and I was running an errand."

Corvus placed a hand on her shoulder. "Grandmother..."

Phoenix set the cup down, and covered his hand with one of her own. "I'm alright." She patted his hand, and let it fall to the table. Then she opened her eyes again, and stared straight through Lucy. "The issue here is who murdered him. For after our contract severed, I heard from other spirits that they'd seen Caelestis. By all appearances, hale and hearty."

Lucy's stomach dropped to her toes. "I... I don't know how to say this... But are you sure the contract was broken by death? That he didn't just... end it for some reason?" She hated the idea - of cutting off a spirit without a single word of farewell, or explanation why. It went against her very grain. But there were celestial mages out there like that. Angel and Karen had proven just how brutal celestial mages could be.

But Phoenix shook her head. "Caelestis's student, Skaldra, found blood. Too much of it for him to have survived. No... my summoner was murdered, and his body was taken away. Skaldra never stopped searching for Caelestis, and one day... he found him. Or... what remained of him." Phoenix's gaze had hardened, a cold fire in her eyes. "It seems my summoner was murdered by a necromancer." She continued on, unheedful of her audience's shock, and her tone detached - as if she were recalling a fact from a textbook, instead of recounting the defilement of her friend. "Even dead, Caelestis was too strong for his student to handle. So Skaldra fled. I couldn't even bring myself to blame the boy. He idolized Caelestis. Later, Skaldra died as well, and I lost my last link to what happened to Caelestis. I've kept my ear to the ground, however. And from what I've been able to piece together, it seems as if he's still walking around now, long past the inevitable death of the necromancer that raised him up."

"So..." Lucy choked on her words. "So when you asked me to kill your summoner..."

"I meant, 'kill him again,'" Phoenix finished softly. "Please... I just wish for him to rest in peace. Even if nothing of him remains still inside that corpse. I just want him to be laid to rest, at long last. It's my only wish in this world."

Dumbfounded by the weight of the request, Lucy couldn't help the sympathetic tears that filled her eyes. "That's so not fair," she whispered. "That's so not fair that... that happened to you. To him." She sniffed, and set her jaw in determination. "I will do it," she stated, her voice stronger from the strength of her conviction. "I will lay Caelestis to rest, and give both of you the peace you deserve."

Reaching out to her, the ancient spirit clasped Lucy's hands in hers. "Thank you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

Preoccupied, neither of the pair caught Corvus's perturbed stare, deep worry etched into every line of his body.

And I'll Hold Onto Every Piece Of You That I Made Up In My Mind Until I Find A Way To Say Goodbye

-Seven Lions "Way To Say Goodbye"

[boredstudent-blog]

Smut Monday: Passion Marks/Love Bites

Alucard found Integra where he normally finds her after a long assignment: sitting at her desk late at night, working on some budgeting sheets or something like that (he never really paid attention to the work his Mistress was working on). He moved out of the shadows behind her, taking his physical form with his usual undead silence. Alucard loomed over Integra for a moment, watching the muscles of her shoulder as they tensed under her thick robe. Something was bothering her.

His hands rubbed at her shoulders, gently at first, so he wouldn’t startle her. She tensed further for a moment, then sighed, relaxing and leaning just a little into his hands.

“There you are. You’re later than I expected. How did it go?”

“It was annoying, honestly. To go all the way to Saint Helena for maybe fifteen minutes of battle? And you made me travel there like a mortal too… very boring.”

“You bring enough attention to yourself without using your abilities to travel great distances. It’s good to hear that things went well, at least. You didn’t attract attention while taking down the targets, did you?” Integra said, leaning back just a little into his hands.

“No, although the burning warehouse probably caught some attention. I was long gone before anyone from the local fire department got close, however. What did you do while I was gone? More meetings with the Convention of Old Folk?” As he spoke, Alucard increased pressure on her shoulders, his long digits seeking the knots underneath her coffee-and-cream skin.

“You of all people really shouldn’t tease anyone about age like that,” Integra chastised him. There wasn’t much heart behind her criticism, though, and she found herself smiling as he chuckled. “No, I didn’t have any meetings with them. I spent most of the week working out the budget for the next quarter, and reviewing more of these human hunters that have been seeking out work with us.”

“Hmm.” Alucard didn’t really care who he worked with, so long as they respected his Mistress’ wishes and were loyal to the Hellsing Agency.

There was comfortable silence for a long while after that. The mortal woman and the immortal man enjoyed these moments between them, where there was no one but the other and the world could fall away, and they could just be.

Alucard finally broke the silence with a deep sigh, kissing her gently. She smiled a bit as his cold lips met her warm mouth. It always amazed her that someone so passionate, so devil-may-care, so bloodthirsty in battle, could be this sweet. He saved this side just for her, and Integra relished in the gift of seeing this side.

Their tongues met, and she moaned slightly as Alucard sat down on the arm of her chair. Their kiss deepened as he wrapped one red-cloaked arm around her waist, pulling her just a little out of the seat of the chair. Integra shook slightly as his tongue stroked hers, as she traced the tips of his teeth, from his sharp canines and incisors, to his blunt molars. Integra could feel the strength of his jaw, bur knew he would not bite down. Alucard sucked on her tongue for a moment, smirking as her heard her moan.

Then, Alucard broke the kiss, his red eyes boring into her blues. He kissed her jaw lightly, almost so light she couldn’t feel them, and she blushed slightly as her nipples hardened against her robe. Alucard’s lips latched onto her neck, not biting, but sucking hard. She arched into his mouth, moaning loudly in his ear. He growled, arm tightening around her, and lips pressing down. After one long, hot moment, Alucard turned back and admired his work on Integra’s beautiful neck. He had created a deep purple passion-mark, a sign of both his affection and his possessiveness over his blonde lover.

“C-careful,” Integra shuddered, struggling to keep control over her lust. “Walter has been noticing them. He’s—“

“What’s his problem now?” Alucard quipped in irritation. “And how is he seeing the marks anyway? You wear long shirts, ties, and cravats. He shouldn’t be seeing any of the hickeys I place on your body.”

“Calm down, Alucard. He noticed them when the air conditioning broke a couple of days ago. It was hot, so I wore a blouse that did not adequately cover my neck. He stated that he was only concerned about the possibility of you breaking the skin and making me bleed. I told him I trusted you implicitly and that you wouldn’t ever bite me or take my blood without my explicit permission.”

“Then why are you concerned about him seeing them?” Alucard demanded.

“I simply don’t want the trouble. I’m tired of him watching you and myself for some not-there sign of abuse. I told him as such when he tried to bring up the marks this afternoon. More than that, Seras told Walter to suck an egg.”

Alucard laughed, surprised and proud that his blood-made child would stand up in such a way to a superior when that superior was being rude to their Mistress. “I’ll have to give her my thanks later. It’s good to have someone on our side. Now…”

Integra tried not to squeak when he stood and lifted her suddenly, effortlessly sweeping her into his arms in a bridal carry. “I’m going to take you to bed. I’m going to make love to you, and you’re going to forget about that silly, overprotective butler. Understood?”

“Really? Then do it, vampire,” Integra responded, challenging him with glee and lust in her voice. Alucard chuckled, leaving the office and taking her to her nearby bedroom and locking the door behind them.

In the bedroom, Alucard set her down on the bed, taking a step back to take off his red trench coat and heavy boots. Integra smiled at him deeply, pulling her robe off and lying nude against the pillows with her knees together and her ankles apart. Within that triangle of lower legs and bed, Alucard could see her slit, and he licked his lips as Integra slyly slipped one delicate finger down, down into her slit. Within seconds, Alucard slipped out of his clothes and was on the bed, crawling towards her like a wild cat stalking its prey.

“You’re gorgeous. Such a beautiful queen. Sexy. Smart. There is nothing about you that I don’t want for myself.” With this, Alucard reached his Mistress, pushing her knees apart and lying between her legs, licking and nipping at her lips, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere he could reach. Integra arched against him, feeling his cold hardness cradled against her wet, hot slit. She moaned into his black hair, and shook when he made another hickey on her, just under her chin. Alucard made his way down her body, kissing, licking, sucking at her throat and breasts, along the ridge of her collar bone. Every time he sucked at her skin, Integra got hotter, wetter. When he reached the apex of her thighs, she was shaking and couldn’t silence her moans. Integra was lost in the heat, the passion, in Alucard’s movements and mouth. He pressed his mouth to her inner thighs, feeling the blood under her skin rushing, feeling her femoral artery pulse. He nipped her lightly, not breaking the skin, but leaving tiny pinpricks of purple and blue. Alucard also sucked at her inner thighs, leaving large purple love marks, and licking each one gently when he was done.

“Alucard… if you plan on being down there any longer, please—ah!” Integra arched her back as he fulfilled her almost-spoken wish and began to lick her slit, focusing quickly on her clit. She moaned and clutched her knees against either side of his head, gripping the pillows she was resting on tightly with her hands. He licked and sucked at her slit, thrusting his tongue into her body and holding it there at random intervals, using his forefinger and middle finger to roll her clit. Integra swore and shook, crying out and trying to get closer and closer to her lover and his masterful mouth. After just a few minutes, she went rigid, her eyes rolling back in her head. Alucard felt her inner muscles clench and unclench repeatedly around her tongue.

Over several long moments, Integra relaxed. Alucard moved up her body, cradling her when they were face to face. She smiled, looking at him through half-open eyes hazily.

“Hello, you. Feeling better?” he teased her, kissing her lightly.

“Much. And I can see you aren’t quite done with me yet,” she responded, thrusting her hips into his. Alucard growled lightly into her neck.

“Are you ready?” he asked her, trying not to lose control and just jump on his mistress.

“Yes. Make love to me, Alucard. Take me—ah!” Integra cried out as he entered her, filling her in one powerful thrust. Alucard gasped, trying not to lose control right there. Integra was always so tight, so hot and wet! He had never been with a woman like her, and he had been with many, many women throughout his centuries. Every time they made love, he was shocked at how long he could hold on, for he always thought he would lose control upon entering her.

Integra held on, wrapping her long legs around her lover’s hips, moaning and crying out in pleasure. She loved it when he took her fast and hard like this. The lovers moved in tandem, passionately rolling their hips back and forth against one another.

“More, more, please!” Integra cried out, gripping onto his shoulders with her fingers, nails digging in and leaving half-moon marks.

“Cum, my love. Now!” Alucard told her, feeling his end rushing at him too quickly. He pulled back just enough to put two fingers where they met and pinched her clit, causing Integra to fall into a second orgasm. Her eyes rolled back again, and she gripped him, crying out and begging for him to join her. Alucard let go, watching his beloved Mistress and shaking as he came deeply within her.

In the afterglow, Integra looked down at her body, shocked at the dozens of passionate marks and nips on her body.

“Well, you certainly felt you needed to mark me, didn’t you?”

“You didn’t mind at the time,” he said, watching her observe her body.

“I don’t now. I’m just wondering how I am going to explain all this to my doctor. I have a physical in the morning.”