#at first he was shocked when Oak asked for his permission to touch him

[wendimydarling]

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj​ and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira​ for betaing! 

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death. 

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.” 

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already. 

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet. 

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me. 

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls. 

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

[nightshade-minho]

-The One-

Warnings: very very mild knifeplay, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, light navel play, tiny mention of blood, rituals, themes of witchcraft + demons, jealousy, sir kink, master kink, threesome, aftercare.

Felix × fem!Reader × Minho

Wc: 3k

Note: I stayed up all night writing this and was half-asleep so I apologize for any mistakes or incoherencies. Regardless, I’m quite proud of this fic hehe, and I’d love some feedback on it~

You could barely breathe. The feeling of his cock stretching you out as you sat on his lap, combined with the heady feeling of the knife's tip pressed against your skin was driving you insane with arousal.

"Such a pretty one you are...we don't usually get customers like you."

You scrunched your eyes shut, not wanting to make eye contact with him. His smirk, his golden eyes that gleamed with confidence...it would all make you even more nervous than you already were.

"Sir...p-please don't hurt me."

"Tsk. I won't, princess. Not yet." He shifted you on his lap, causing his tip to rub up against your sweet spot. You let out a soft moan as he did so, your eyes slowly opening and drifting down to the shiny steel pressed against your torso.

"Will it...will it hurt?"

He gently dragged the knife upwards, eyes fixed on you. He wasn't applying any pressure, and the blade itself wasn't very sharp...but it still sent tingles through you.

"Not really. If you're a good girl for us, it won't. The ritual is a very short one, and doesn't have many side effects."

"Okay...wait, us?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. My boss. He'll be here soon, don't worry. He's a busy man. I take care of the shop when he's not here."

"Oh...so you're like, his assistant?"

"Mmhm. You could say that. He doesn't pay me, though." He mutters, expression faltering for a second. The smirk slowly returned though, as he dragged the steel gently up between your breasts, pausing.

"Why...w-why do you work here, then?"

"He's family. My older brother,to be exact."

"O-oh..."

"Yup. In fact, enjoy my leniency while you can. I can assure you, my brother is a lot more..."

He sighed, poking the tip into your skin lightly, but not enough to draw blood.

"Sadistic."

You gulped as Felix suddenly started thrusting up into you, his hips gaining a newfound vigor. You groaned, throwing your head back as he hit your sweet spot again.

You never thought you'd end up like this...A few weeks ago, you were living your life like any other college student.

When winter break came along, you'd been more than excited to get back to your hometown...the place you'd grew up in. One of the first things you did was visit the woods, searching for the tree house you'd made when you were about 10 years old.

Of course, you hadn't expected to see a cottage where your tree house had formerly been. On hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to knock.

You hadn't expected to see a cute boy open the door, either.

Felix, he said his name was.

The cottage wasn't a house after all...it was more of an eccentric little shop, the shelves lined with curious looking bottles and dusty books.

You'd definitely thought the man was cuckoo, especially when he started talking about witchcraft and rituals. He was undeniably hot, though...

One thing led to another and here you were a few days later, having sex with someone you barely knew. That someone also happened to talk an awful lot about demons and witchcraft. God, you were stupid to trust him.

"This ritual...what does it require, again? And there's absolutely no side effects?"

"Nope. All you want is revenge, correct? We can make that happen."

"Having sex with you is part of it, right?"

Felix laughed, taking his knife away and resting it on the table next to him. "Oh, you truly do hurt me. Here I was thinking you were having sex with me cause you wanted to." He adjusted himself in his chair, lifting you off his cock and turning you around.

He slowly eased you back down onto his length, groaning softly under his breath at your tightness.

"Look here. Intercourse with a virgin is stage one of the ritual, and semen also happens to be one of the ingredients." He said, pulling your back against his chest and lifting a finger, causing a dusty old book in the corner of the room to hover over.

You squinted at the page, the words registering itself in your brain.

"Wait...how did you know I'm a virgin?"

"It's glaringly obvious, doll."

You gritted your teeth, biting your lip as Felix let the book drop to the floor, his hands on your waist as he slowly started fucking up into you.

"Remember, you asked for this. You're the one who came here first. You gave me full consent to do this."

"I d-did."

"Mmhmm. Don't forget to tell Minho that. If he's not a corpse somewhere, that is...he usually isn't this late."

A shiver ran through you as Felix suddenly got up with you still on his cock, his fingers digging into your skin as he took you over to the window. He slid apart the heavy purple curtains with one hand.

"Ah...there he is."

You twisted your neck slightly. Eyes misty with arousal, you could barely make out the shadowy figure approaching. Felix's fingers on your chin forced you to face him again, his smile slightly unsettling.

"He's here. I'll remind you again. This was your choice."

"M-my choice..." You gulped as the door opened, the bells tinkling.

There was silence for a few minutes. Felix's form was blocking the figure in the shop. You made a sound of frustration as you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious man, despite the fear enveloping your heart.

"Hm. What do we have here? Felix, I've told you before. Don't bring your playthings into the shop."

Felix turned around, taking you to the counter and setting you on the edge of it, still inside you. The new angle finally let you make eye contact with the man.

Oh, fuck. Almost immediately, you wished you hadn't looked at him. Yes, Felix was scary and slightly unnerving...but this man's aura was a whole new shade of intimidating.

You tried your best to break eye contact, but you couldn't. His stare was mesmerizing, and you almost drooled.

A sharp thrust from Felix snapped you out of your haze.

"She isn't a plaything. She's been coming here for the past week...keeping me company. It gets lonely here when you leave on your little trips, you know."

Minho frowned as he set down the mysterious looking packages he'd been holding, leaning on the heavy oak table. His eyes fell on the open book. He lazily regarded the pages, sighing.

Despite his indifferent expression, when he spoke, his tone was menacing.

"Have you been showing this girl the texts? Felix, you know we're not supposed to fraternize with the mortals. I've let you copulate with some of them, but I've told you time and time again...magic and elements of the otherwordly realm are far too complex for their puny brains to comprehend."

Felix sighed, turning slightly to face his brother but not slowing down. He kept thrusting into you, a hand grasping your breast and fingers gliding over your nipple as he spoke.

"That's just it! This human here is different from the others. For one, once she got over her initial shock and surprise, she even started reading the rituals herself and helping me out around the shop! In fact, that's what we're doing right now, enacting the Interfectorem Inimicus Ritual. She has a silly little rival she wants to get rid of."

Minho sighed, his eyes coming up to meet yours again. You looked away meekly, making a small smirk appear on his features.

Cute.

He rarely found mortals attractive...but this one right here might have to be an exception. Besides, if what Felix said was true, she was special. Maybe she wasn't even a mortal after all...

Minho needed to know if that was true. And there was only one way to find out.

He stalked over calmly, tapping Felix's shoulder.

"Give her to me."

"What?!" Felix's look of confusion mirrored yours.

"You heard me." His gaze drifted slowly to you, a finger sneaking out to trace your jawline. You unknowingly leaned into his touch, shivering at the feeling of his cold fingers.

"Hmm now, kitten...why exactly were you snooping about in the sacred texts?" His gaze was stern as he locked your eyes with his.

"I wasn't s-snooping-"

"Did Lixie here give you permission?"

"I, well...no..." You hated the way his intense stare was making you blurt out the truth, cheeks flushed. "I was just curious, that's all. So I read one of the b-books when he wasn't looking."

"Curious." Minho let go of your chin, chuckling. "Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat." His eyes turned darker. "Although when it comes to this kitty, it might just be something else that leads to her demise..."

You swallowed, a fresh wave of arousal shooting through you as Minho smiled, saccharine sweet.

He glared at Felix, making him let go of you reluctantly.

"I'm going to fuck you now, kitten. Would you like that?"

You looked up at him. There was just something about him...his intensity, his demeanor...combined with his sharp beauty...he had you whiny and needy, keening in just seconds.

"Yes, Master, want you...want you so bad!" You mewled, just as Felix pulled out of you.

"Good girl."

In seconds, he gathered you in his arms, taking you over to the burgundy sofa in the corner of the room. "Now, let's do this ritual the right way, shall we? Felix, light some candles."

"Listen, brother, I really don't think this is a good idea and-"

"Do as I say."

Felix sighed, nodding as he went to gather some candles from the shelf. As he lit each one, his heart shuddered.

The two of them knew something you didn't.

Felix and Minho shared a demonic father, but had different mothers. Felix's mother happened to be human, while Minho's definitely wasn't. It was why Felix was able to have intercourse with humans without rendering them completely insane.

Minho, on the other hand...didn't possess even an ounce of humanity. He was draconian, otherworldly...

Felix glanced back, sadness taking over his features as he watched you, entranced as you stared at him.

He was worried you wouldn't last the night.

Minho leaned down, inhaling. He loved the way the human interacted to his touches, however featherlight they may be. He ran the tip of his fingers over your chin, down between your breasts. His fingers continued their descent until they reached your navel, his lust growing as he dipped his finger in, prompting a soft whimper from you. He fingered your navel gently for a few seconds, before he went even lower...finally reaching your clit.

If you were indeed human, you wouldn't be able to handle him or his cock. If you weren't, though?

The implications of it drove Minho giddy with excitement. He'd never had the pleasure of playing with someone as responsive and adorable as you were. Maybe you could even be his queen when he ascends his father's throne...

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. First, he had to make sure of your origins. Then, he'd let himself daydream.

His fingers slowly pushed into your already dripping pussy, an appreciative groan leaving his lips as your soaking walls hugged his digits tightly.

Felix finished with the candles, his own erection growing impossibly harder as the lewd noises your pussy was making filled the room.

He turned, making his way to the sofa and glaring at his brother. He already harbored quite a bit of resentment for the older man, and this only served to deepen his hatred. Why did he have to steal away everything that was his?

Minho pulled his fingers out with a pop, sucking on his digits as he looked over at Felix. Your eyes opened halfway, registering Minho's naked form with some surprise. When did he remove his clothes? Then again, you knew the two men in the room didn't obey the same worldly rules you did.

Minho's eyes drifted down to Felix's erection, tutting under his breath.

"You know what...you can use her mouth, if you like."

Felix grumbled. It was better than nothing, but then again...He didn't want his brother to fuck you at all. Till now, you'd proven to be different from the usual human...most mortals couldn't even see their shop. However, he still felt that slight unease that came with not wanting to see you hurt. He'd only known you for a week but...deep inside, he didn't want to lose you.

Felix led his cock to your lips, eyes searching your lidded ones for discomfort. When he found none, he slid his length past your throat slowly, making you moan.

Minho's thick tip was rubbing at your folds. You could only feel the sensation of his head dragging up and down your slit...but it was more than enough for you to realize that he was bigger than everyone you'd ever had sex with.

When he finally pushed into you, you saw stars in your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming...so sudden and potent that you screamed, Felix's eyes widening in concern as he pulled out.

"Are you okay?

"Y-yeah! For fuck's sake, it feels so gooooooood-" You choked out, clenching tightly around Minho's huge cock, his thrusts unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was almost satanic, the way he plunged into you repeatedly, stretching you out to your absolute limit.

Minho gritted his teeth as he gripped your waist tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck...ironic, but your pussy is heavenly, kitten..."

He moved you up and down his shaft, the feeling of your soft pussy opening up more and more with each stroke driving him crazed with lust. He'd never felt anything like this before.

"Felix, she's so fucking- shit....she's so fucking perfect-"

Felix frowned, sitting back as he watched. He couldn't help the envy from gripping his heart as he watched your pleasure-stricken face, your eyes rolling back in your head as Minho slid his girth deeper, hitting your sweet spot. He didn't want to stay any longer, but he couldn't help it. He really didn't want to leave you alone with his brother.

Minho drove into you faster as he felt his orgasm approaching, spurred on by the way you clenched tightly around him, clearly near your end as well.

"Kitten? 'M going to cum...going to fill your little pussy up..."

You whined, arching your back. "Can I cum, Master?"

He shook his head, growling as he rubbed your clit. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Minho turned to the side as he kept abusing your pussy, his eyes landing on Felix...chuckling at his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Felix let out a moan as he continued jerking himself off, standing up. He didn't care anymore...you looked so perfect like this, completely naked and at their mercy, mouth wide open and ready for him to use.

He came closer and shoved his cock down your throat roughly, not giving you time to adjust as he started fucking into you, his high close. You choked, caught off guard, but quickly got over it. Determined to be a good girl for them, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on Felix's cock desperately, even as you tried to stave off your orgasm.

His length twitched in your mouth, and before you knew it, you felt warm cum spurting down your throat. Felix groaned, pulling out slowly.

"Felix, now. Get my blade and the book."

"Wait, what?"

"She's the one. I can tell. Quick. We need to get her blood at the exact time she hits her high, or I won't be able to complete my ritual."

"Wait- no! This is Y/n's ritual, the one for her rival. It's lower magic. The one you want to do...Come on, brother! You have to think before making a decision like this, you can't just make her your bride...we have to get Y/n's permission, too-"

Minho growled, his eyes flashing red as he glared at Felix. "I'm not performing a wedding ritual or anything, brother. I'm simply preserving her essence-"

Felix shook his head. His heart was thudding- he'd figured it out too, just like his brother had. You weren't mortal. You were special...and that meant Minho wanted to find out what exactly you were.

He felt sick as he thought of you getting married to his brother. No. You belonged here on Earth, with your family and your friends-

With him.

Before he could react, Minho's hand had materialized the exact knife he wanted.

Encrusted with rubies and made of demonic steel, the blade was far sharper than the one Felix had been teasing you with before.

Minho let go of your waist to grab your hand, bringing it up to his face. His hips continued their assault, making you whine and whimper.

Half the things they said were making no sense, and you were scared and yet...aroused, at the same time. You didn't know what was going on, but you wanted to listen to the man above you. You wanted to do everything he said, wanted to be his little pet...wanted to be his. Your brain felt like it was slowly getting rid of all rationality, the feeling of his cock making you whine louder.

"Kitten...I'm going to make a tiny little cut, right here on your finger. Is that okay?"

You nodded desperately, and Minho smiled at you in approval.

"Cum."

You finally let go, the pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave as you shook, convulsing with electricity as Minho drove the blade into the tip of your finger just enough to let out a few drops of blood.

Felix reluctantly conjured up an empty potion vial, capturing the drop with ease.

Minho lifted your finger to his mouth, sucking on the digit and running his tongue over the wound repeatedly. The metallic taste of your blood was the final push he needed to cum, thrusting deeper as he spilled himself into you.

When he let go of your finger, all the pain had disappeared. You noticed your finger was healed...the skin just as clean and soft as it was before.

You whined as he pulled out, conjuring another vial to gather some of your mixed fluids that was leaking out from between your thighs. He yawned as he handed it to Felix, who corked it with a frown on his face, setting it next to the vial with your blood in it. He knew what Minho wanted to do...he wanted to perform a ritual with the vials, wanted to make sure you were the one for him. It wasn't a wedding ritual by any means...but it was a pre-requisite, and the thought saddened Felix. Maybe his feelings for you were deeper than he'd thought.

Slowly, Minho gathered you into his arms, patting your hair gently and kissing your forehead.

"You were a good kitten, Y/n. How are you feeling?"

"I'm f-feeling okay..."

Minho made a face of delight at Felix. "She can still talk and formulate sentences!" He mouthed, prompting a half-hearted smile from his brother.

"D'you want to cuddle?"

You pouted. "Mmhmm! But..I want Lix to come cuddle too."

Felix looked up at that, his eyes widening.

You still wanted him?

Minho met his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Sure, baby. Lix can come cuddle as well."

You grinned, looking over at Felix and making grabby hands. Giggling, the boy quickly dropped onto the couch, wrapping his arms around your torso and humming in content.

"You know..I don't mind sharing her." Minho whispered, his fingers still stroking your hair. "Really?" Felix asked, looking down at you.

"If she wants to be shared, that is."

"I don't mind!" You chirped. "Life is boring here, anyway. Where did you guys say you lived again?"

The two men shared a look.

Minho sighed as he stroked your hair. "I can't wait to introduce you to our dad."

"Your dad?"

"Yep! Don't worry, he's nice. And I think he'd like you."

You frowned slowly as you remembered something Felix had told you. Snippets of their conversation flashed through your brain as your stomach filled with something akin to dread and anticipation.

"Who did you say your dad was, again?"

"Oh, what? Ah, that doesn't really matter. He's just the king of the Underworld."

[ratsoh-writes]

Crush reveals to skelly that they are a night fairy. Main 10.

They say that before deepening the relationship, they have something to reveal and that Skelly will meet them at the park at 01:00 AM. [On a weekend, of course! No one will be disturbing someone else's sleep when you have work the other day] When Skelly arrives at the park, he sees them near the lake. So Crush turns around and says this is the part of them that doesn't reveal to anyone they don't have confidence in. Then they start to shine and show their fairy side. [With wings on their back, luminescent eyes, shining skin - just like using glitter makeup and a magical aura around]. Crush explains that it can only take that shape from 01:00 until 03:00 AM.

Alright I’ll just combine these two too.

Sans: what. I repeat: WHAT. Sans exe is not working. He just kinda stands there gaping, before he finally just blips home leaving crush there. The next day though, sans will text them that he wants to talk. His curiosity won the battle against his fear. Sans will apologize for leaving so suddenly and will bashfully ask if he can learn more about you?

Papyrus: after a few seconds of shock, papyrus immediately comes to and is on you asking any question he can think of! That’s amazing. He had no idea fairies still existed!! Are there more of you?

Star: “WHAT THE FU-“ his internal filter stopped working for a second there. Star squeaks out “LANGUAGE” at himself then reaches for your wings, stops right before he can touch them, then actually asks permission to touch the wings lol. Being caught so off guard has made him clumsy

Honey: he stumbles back a bit and kinda just stares. Honey won’t snap out of it until you call his name. Then he stutters out of it’s ok for him to touch them? He’s not even mad he’s stuttering around you again. This is a stutter worthy moment

Red: he’s super on edge when he came to meet you. Red is honestly expecting a fight right now. The only thing that made him agree were his carefully hidden feelings for you. Seeing the wings though will just short circuit his brain, leaving him speechless. After this, red is weirded out and will not contact you until you meet him yourself.

Edge: his eyes widen, and he tentatively takes a few steps closer to get a better look. He’s gentle and curious, but this definitely puts his future confession on hold. Edge needs to know why you have to hide first. He’s not about to date someone shady

Mal: forgetting to ask, mal will almost reverently glide a hand up and down the wings. If you look at his face you can see starts in his eyes. Mal has never seen something so beautiful before.

Cash: after cash gets over his shock and questions, he’ll just start laughing in relief. When you press, he admits he was scared you were going to tell him that you were a drug dealer. Then cash asks if fairy dust works the same way. He’s gotta know these things. seriously.

Oak: like sans, he’s just brain empty, nothings there. Oak won’t run though. Instead he groans and asks if you only told him this because you know he’ll forget later. He is the “safest” person to tell a secret to after all. And oak is honestly freaked out so he doesn’t care if that came across as offensive

Willow: where papyrus was all enthusiasm, willow is nerves and caution. He has to know why you were hiding this. Is there something dangerous about fairies? Depending on your answer, he might start distancing himself from you now.

Charm: he faints

When he comes to, his answer will be the same as mals but much more skittish

Sugar: he’s in absolute awe over your new appearance. Sugar had no ideas angels were real. Well technically you’re a fairy, but same difference right? His eyes always have little hearts in them, but they seem to be glowing especially bright right now

Lord: barely a second after the wings pop out, lord has disappeared. He only shortcutted a few feet away behind some bushes. He’ll give himself a moment to flip out before coming back and asking why the hell you’re showing him this now??

Mutt: “what the f*ck”. And he’s not apologizing for saying it lol. Mutt will nervously ask questions about the wings but he keeps his distance. He’ll only touch them if you offer. Whether he ghosts you or not depends on how committed he is to keeping you.

Wine: he fkn knew it. Wine has to give himself a mental pat on the back for guessing your secret. It was such a weird one that he actually wasn’t sure if he was right or not. You don’t realize any of this of course and just thing his intense gaze is from surprise. After this, wine’s answer becomes the same as mal minus the stars on his eyes. He only gets those when he’s truly surprised

Coffee: he’s actually surprised. Oh man is he surprised. Coffee is so off guard that he pacing around you as all his question just tumble out of his mouth. When you’re done answering, he warns you that he’s going to tell his brother. This isn’t a secret coffee can keep from him.

Pluto: he didn’t faint, but it was pretty close. Pluto will sway in place and temporarily loose control of his gravity. The floating actually calms him down enough to look at this rationally. Ok, fairies aren’t supposed to be real, so he can see why your hid this. But why are you telling him?? He can’t keep a secret to save his life?!

Jupiter: the first words out of his mouth are “DO THEY WORK?” Referring to the wings. If your answer is yes, he’ll ask if you two can take the conversation to the sky. This is serious matters so you can’t risk anyone overhearing

Peaches: he’s clearly nervous and sweaty but trying to put on a brave face. Peaches tries to diffuse the conversation by saying “so this definitely isn’t a love confession....” awkward

Rancher: he also stumbles back but quickly picks himself up. Rancher is the brave type and will waste no time getting a closer look. He wants to know how you wound up staying around humans as a fairy? We’re you born a fairy, or did something make you this way?

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 8

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,731

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Talk of nightmares - discussion of Hybrid abuse - implied mentions of drinking, drugs, hybrid mills - abandonment - Underground fights.

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You weren’t expecting Namjoon to come home at a normal hour. To keep yourself busy after Luna headed out, you plated all the goodies you made and cleaned up the kitchen, softly humming the entire time as you refrained from baking any further.

When dinner came and went, you had curled yourself up on the couch. The blanket you were knitting was long enough to cover your knees, but it still had a long way to go. In the living room there were two large windows looking out the front yard, a picture-perfect view of the tall oak and evergreen trees that surrounded your neighborhood.

The sky overhead turned pink as the sun began its descent, washed out burnt orange lights streaked the sky until it reminded you of peaches. If Namjoon had been here, he’d find a spot outside on the grass and watch until the sky was overflowing with stars. By then the fireflies would be out and he’d want to stay, mesmerized as they sparkled on and off until you went out with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders and a teasing grin to try and coax him back inside.

The knitting needles had stopped clicking a while ago. You were so lost in thought that you set the project back in its basket and stood up, tugging your sweater around your body as you made your way over to the window.

In the summer the sun didn’t set until eight at night, dragging out the painted skies for as long as nature allowed for it. Glancing around the room, an old book sat on top of an end table, the cover flipped open to reveal thinly aged paper. It made you smile softly as you picked it up, flipping through it to find the small black typed letters of poetry written long ago.

He was such a lover of words, always amazing you with how wide his reading interests ranged from, to how he even viewed life and the world. After everything that he went through, he still spoke about the world like it was a gift.

Screaming echoed in the house as you shot up in bed, chest heaving as you threw back the blankets to hurry to Namjoon’s room. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but this wasn’t the first time he’s had the nightmares during his stay with you.

It had been over a month since the storm, and while Luna had said many times that they weren’t as over-packed at the Homeless Center, you didn’t have the heart to tell Namjoon that he could go back. At least here he had a bed – a real bed and not a cot – his own room, new and clean clothe,s and home cooked meals. Even if the Center wasn’t over crowded since the storm had long since passed, it would still be loud and crowded, the very things that Namjoon didn’t need right now.

Turning on the lamp on his night stand, you crouched over Namjoon to gently shake his shoulder. He was breathing heavily as he gripped the blankets underneath him, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and tears formed under his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks.

"Wake up Namjoon,” you called out, briefly scratching his ear as it twitched. “It’s just a bad dream hun, it’ll be all over when you wake up. I promise.”

He painfully cried in his sleep, body flinching when you touched him, but you didn’t stop trying to wake him up. It hurt to see him suffering like this and you knew, had he gone back to the Center, no one would have attempted to wake him once they realized this wasn’t a one-time occurrence.

“It’s gonna be okay Namjoon, you just gotta wake up.”

It took a little more coaxing on your part, but with one final shake Namjoon gasped as his eyes opened wide, searching around the room until they landed on you. He didn’t look away and he didn’t rip his arm away, a positive sign in your book since he had been doing that the previous times you woke him from a nightmare.

He never told you about the nightmares. Instead, he simply apologized and said to not worry about them. There was just one problem, you did worry. You worried because you knew that whatever was haunting him had been happening for years and every morning afterwards, there were dark circles under his eyes.

You worried because over the course of the last month, you’ve grown to care about Namjoon.

The clock on the nightstand said it was three a.m. Knowing that you weren’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, you straightened so you were no longer leaning over Namjoon and let go of his shoulder.

“Want some tea?” You gently asked, realizing that the two of you had been staring at each other without speaking, long enough to make your cheeks blush.

Namjoon glanced at the clock too, momentarily coughing into his hand as he tried to catch his breath. You weren’t expecting him to say yes, he declined each time you previously offered after his nightmares. Knowing that, you still asked because a part of you hoped that one day, he’d trust you enough to open up to you.

“Sure,” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

Your eyebrows lifted in shock, surprised that he had agreed. You didn’t let that deter you though, instead you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Come on out when you’re ready.”

Namjoon nodded once and you left shortly afterwards, closing the door behind you to give him privacy. Internally, your heart was leaping around, happy that he was appearing to come out of his shell, even if it wasn’t in the greatest circumstances.

Once you reached the kitchen, you moved out of habit, used to making late night drinks for Luna, but when you reached for the tea, you hesitated. You didn’t know what type Namjoon liked to drink. He only ever had coffee in front of you.

Leaving the orange mug empty for now, you prepared yours with instant coffee, knowing that it wouldn’t impact your sleep. As the hot water poured into the mug, you rifled through the tea bags you had, fingers pausing on one labelled Chamomile. Luna tended to favor this one when it was an especially stressful night, claiming that it helped calm her down.

Namjoon’s cries echoed in your mind and the next thing you knew you were plopping the tea bag into his mug and pressing brew for the hot water to dispense. If he didn’t like it, there were plenty other teas for him to choose. Leaning back against the counter, you softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent against the hardwood floor.

He glanced at the Keurig behind you, eyebrows scrunching up as he tilted his head at the smell. You didn’t recall making this one since he’s moved in.

“It’s Chamomile,” you softly explained, watching as his feet shuffled closer to the table. “It’ll help you relax. I thought you might like that after your nightmare.”

The corner of his lip twitched and a faint smile became visible. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now.”

Hearing the Keurig finish, you turned back around to retrieve his mug, grabbing him a spoon and the honey bottle as well. “You’re gonna wanna dunk the bag a couple times,” you suggested, placing it in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the honey and you shrugged as you retrieved your coffee before sitting across from him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked it sweet or not.”

“Thank you,” taking the honey, he poured a small amount in and stirred, carefully avoiding hitting the sides of the mug. “I…I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I know things haven’t been easy for you.”

“But you didn’t have to help me.” He spoke, holding his mug in both hands. “You didn’t have to offer up your guest room, or be patient with me and share your meals, but you did.” Licking his lips, he raised an eyebrow at you. “And you didn’t have to let me stay this long. The storm ended weeks ago and the Homeless Center isn’t as chaotic, but you haven’t even mentioned that.”

Your eyes widened, feeling caught in the act when he softly smiled before taking a sip out of his drink. “How?”

“Luna called while you were away at work on day. She was wondering why you hadn’t told me that I could go back.”

Damn technology, you thought, shrugging as you tried to hide your embarrassment by pulling your knees up on to the chair and to your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked. Lowering his mug, the spot between his eyebrows furrowed as he patiently waited. “Why didn’t you tell me to leave?”

A part of you wished you were able to play dumb and pull it off, to coyly act like you had no idea what he was talking about. Namjoon would know immediately though. His ability to pick up on your emotions hadn’t gone unnoticed in the time he’s lived with you.

The words escaped you for a moment, so you shrugged once as you tried to form the right thing to say. It only lasted a few seconds, because when you met his gaze, it flowed naturally. “I didn’t want you to leave,” you found yourself telling him, unable to say anything but the truth.

He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his seat as the silence took hold again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. You didn’t mind it, figuring he was assessing your emotions to find the truth in what you said.

As he gathered his thoughts, you rubbed a hand across your eyes in an attempt to ease the headache from lack of caffeine.

“I told Luna it was better for that little Hybrid to be abandoned now because it’s true. It’s a shitty thing to experience when you can remember it.”

Tonight, was perhaps the most that you’ve heard Namjoon speak, and you were surprised with where he was directing his attention towards. Ideas swirled around with what he was talking about, about where this was going to lead, but you remained quiet as you focused on him, allowing him to speak at the pace he wanted to go at.

Namjoon ran his thumb around the rim of his mug, taking a deep breath. “I’ve lost track of all the owners I’ve had. There hadn’t been as many when I was younger, but as I grew up, grew bigger and taller, I got sent back to the Adoption Centers until one day, one of them got lazy and dropped me off at the Homeless Center. I was maybe, fifteen then.”

“Even with all the constant changes, I always knew I was a Hybrid. None of my owners ever let me forget that. They put me in small rooms, sometimes I didn’t even have a room but a closet or a mattress on the floor.” Lifting his gaze, he gestured around the kitchen with a bittersweet smile. “Everything in this room alone, to be able to have a cup of tea and not be afraid of the consequences, was once a dream for me. Still is sometimes.”

Shifting in your seat, you set your cup down on the table, having lost interest in the coffee that you usually loved. Because you were watching him, you were able to see his fingers tighten briefly.

“It was bad,” he simply said, not meeting your gaze this time. “There’d be days where I wasn’t allowed to eat, where I was expected to clean up after everyone and keep the house spotless and if I didn’t, well…sometimes not eat eating was better than their punishments. Almost forgot my own name with one owner. She only ever called me Hybrid.”

A rock settled inside your heart at what he was implying, and suddenly it made sense. The way he flinched at your touch, how you always had to encourage and reassure him that it was okay to eat and have more. Your eyes watered up and you bit down on your lower lip, unable to control the way your emotions seemed to fly around.

His ears flickered in your direction, finally looking at you again. He gave you a sad smile, leaning forward and shakily raised his hand, hesitating only once before running his thumb across your cheek. His touch was gentle but it only reinforced what you were thinking. How could anyone hurt someone as gentle as Namjoon?

“Don’t cry for me,” he whispered, doing it again to the other cheek. “It’s in the past, we can’t change what happened back then.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, leaning into his palm when he cupped your cheek, both drinks long forgotten as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch. He wasn’t done with his story and for some reason, you knew that it wasn’t going to get any better.

“My last owner wasn’t any different. Like the rest of them, he felt like he was entitled because he had money to waste, and thought he was better because he was human and I was a Hybrid. But unlike them, he participated in the Underground.”

Frowning, you almost leaned back to get a better look at Namjoon, but when your cheek stated to slide out of his hand you stopped, choosing to stay in his touch. “The Underground?”

He gently tapped your cheek with his thumb, slowly nodding. “There’s the good part of it, and then there’s bad side. The good is mostly known for the music and art scene, but that’s not what most people think of. The Underground is mostly known for its bad side; the drugs, gambling, the Hybrid Mills and such, but everyone just calls it by one name since the lines blur together.” Namjoon shrugged, still rubbing your cheek as if to keep you calm. “One of the popular events are the fights, and as long as I was able to stand on my own two feet, he had me in them every night.”

You may not have known or understood what the Underground was, but with a little thinking it didn’t take long to understand what Namjoon meant.

“I was big and as a Wolf Hybrid, I had an advantage over some of the others. We…none of us wanted to fight, but if we didn’t, the consequences were worse than had we just lost.” Sighing, Namjoon lowered his hand from your face, his gaze falling to the floor once again as his shoulders slouched.

“My last fight had been against a kid, barely even eighteen and shaking. The crowd was screaming and whoever his owner was was threatening him…all I could do was stare at him, wondering who the hell I had become. For a split second I had considered it, it would have only taken one punch, and immediately I was disgusted with myself. The fact that I had even thought about it made me realize that I was no better than the human who owned me.”

You blinked as your mind resurfaced from the memory, pulling your fingers from the book cover as you stumbled backwards. Even now, there was still an ache when you thought about the life that Namjoon had been forced to live, the things he had to do to survive until he was able to escape. It had been a damn miracle that he ended up at the shelter that Luna worked at and she had called you when that storm came in.

Sighing, you plopped back down on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping to ind on a show that could manage to keep you awake for the next several hours.

Please Joonie, you thought, gently laying a hand on the Mate Mark that you treasured and wore with immense pride. A life with Namjoon was what you wanted, what you still wanted, but it was starting to feel like the two of you were heading in two different directions and all you wished for was to find the spot where things began to change. But you could only go so far, do so much, by yourself.

Please come home. Please.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 3

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

Bruce sat at the head of the long oak dining table and waited for his children to make their way into the room for dinner. They came in as a staggered group; Jason arguing about some novel with Dick while Tim and Damian brought up the back as they discussed their patrol routes for the night. After Alfred and Damian helped serve the food, Bruce cleared his throat pointedly and waited for everyone to pay attention. 

Once everyone had looked up from their discussions he spoke. “Alfred has a friend named Gina; and she had called this evening to see if her granddaughter could stay with us. She lives in Paris; but her classmates were bullying her and her parents thought a change of scenery would do her some good. I have agreed to let her stay with us in the Manor.” Even before he had finished speaking the table erupted with different questions from his children.

“Bruce are you sure this is wise?” Tim questioned over Dick’s ecstatic squealing (“I’ve always wanted a little sister!!!”), and Jason’s grumbling (“Shut the fuck up Dickhead. I don’t know why the fuck B is bringing someone into this house to live with this dysfunctional family.”). Ignoring his siblings; he pressed on “I mean, how are we going to hide Batman and the vigilante stuff from her?” As Bruce paused to answer Damian stood up and scowled. “Tt. This is a moronic decision. Inform me of when this girl is to arrive and inform  her to stay out of my way.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms before marching out of the room.

After Damian’s outburst, Jason looked over from where he was arguing with Dick and added his input “Timbo’s right, B. How are we going to hide that from her?” 

“We’ll have to make sure at least two of you remain in the manor each night so that she doesn’t get too suspicious.” He answered. “Now, the only reason I agreed to letting her stay here was namely for Alfred, and also because of what her classmates did to her” 

“What do you mean, Bruce?” Dick questioned. “Did they like assault her or something?”

“Or something” He responded grimly before sending the photo to all three of them. 

As they looked at the photo, he observed their reactions to the image. Dick was not smiling for once, and his sunny blue eyes had darkened to an icy frost. His whole body was tense; and his jaw was so clenched his teeth were grinding together. Jason was standing up with two guns locked and loaded in his hands. He had also managed to procure a knife from somewhere, which appeared as he leant forward and asked “What were the names of the people who did this again?” in a completely lethal tone. Tim, already hacking away at his computer responded “Not there yet, but from what I can find out, she goes to College Francois DuPont and she’s fifteen.” He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Bruce before asking “How fast do you think we can get our lawyers onto those kids B?” At the declarations of his children, Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “We can not file any lawsuits yet, not without Marinette’s permission.” He answered, sighing tiredly. “Marinette?” Dick questioned. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim responded instantly. “That’s her name.” 

“She will be coming on Monday, and Alfred will be picking her up from the airport. She is also going to attend GA, so someone please tell Damian.” Bruce said as he stood from the table. “Now hurry up, we have patrol tonight, and there have been rumors about a drug ring near Crime Alley.”

---

After coming back from the hospital and having a sleepover Thursday night, Chloé and Adrien were completely sleep-deprived as they trudged into school the next morning. Settling into her usual seat beside Sabrina, Chloé silently thanked all the Kwami that she didn’t have to sit next to Lila. Halfway though class, Mrs. Bustier suddenly frowned and looked at the back row. “Does anyone know where Marinette is? She still hasn’t arrived yet!”

“Probably still sleeping at home! She’ll come in completely late as usual!” Alya cackled. At her words, Chloé felt her entire body heat up with righteous indignity. She opened her mouth to tell that wannabe tabloid reporter to get her facts straight, but then Adrien caught her eye and shook his head. He then pointed at his phone, and mimed unlocking it before pointing to her. Catching the hint, she checked her messages to see that Marinette had sent them a text.

FashionableBug: Mari said to tell Chloé and Adrien not to do anything to Lila or anyone else that starts making stuff up. (From Luka btw)

You’reUnderAgreste: Me-ouch, My Lady. I would never!

QueenofMean: shut it with the puns, Noir. Maribug, I will only listen to you because you’re injured and I’m not going to go against your wishes.

Putting her phone away, Chloé resigned herself to a miserable school day. 

---

After school, she walked into Marinette’s room and flopped dramatically onto the chaise, before letting out a long groan.

“That bad?” Mari chuckled as she scribbled sketched one-handedly in her design notebook. 

“You have no idea.” Chloé responded. 

Their conversation continued into mundane things, such as everyone’s patrol routes, and various theories on who Hawkmoth was. Totally normal topics for teenagers. As the day drew to a close, they made plans for everyone to come over to start packing the next day before Chloé left the bakery and headed home.

---

Come Saturday, Marinette, Chloé and Luka spent the morning playing board games one handed “to level the playing field” as Luka put it and eating lots of cookies and pastries-provided by Marinette’s parents of course. Adrien and Kagami were attending their various classes until afternoon, so the remaining three spent their time relaxing, and coming up with a list of things to pack for Mari’s stay in Gotham. Two o’ clock rolled around, and the bells over the bakery jingled to announce the arrival of the final members of the packing committee.  

Any plans to begin their assignment of somehow fitting all Marinette’s fabrics into the suitcase were cut short by an Akuma. 

They all transformed, even though Kagami and Luka has been  extremely reluctant to let Mari go even though the suit temporarily healed her injuries. Climbing through her roof hatch, they set out across the rooftops to defeat their latest villain.

---

Five hours later, the teen heroes dropped into her room, and detransformed in various flashes of multicolored lights. They collapsed onto the bed and chairs and silently agreed to just  sleep , and get the packing done the next day.

---

All of Sunday was spent throwing various clothes and accessories into Mari’s pink and black suitcase. There were several sweaters and hoodies (added by Chloé), as well as several leggings and many thick pajama pants (Sabine).

Adrien (with the help of Tom) had somehow managed to pack over ten different pun-covered t-shirts, and by the time they were discovered, they had been buried under piles upon piles of fluffy socks from Kagami. Luka also threw in some scarves before Marinette added some toiletries, her sewing kit, and her computer.

Picking up the backpack she had decided to use as a carry-on, Marinette rifled through it to make sure she had everything in there as well.

Spare change of clothes in case she loses her suitcase? Check. Phone, headphones, and charger? Check. Sketchbook and pencils? Check. Disguised Miracle Box? Check.

She turned to her family (Not her teammates, not her friends, but her family.) and smiled. It was small, and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “Alright guys, I guess I’m all set.” She said, before joining them all in a group hug. They offered her soft, tearful smiles before Tom carried her big suitcase down the stairs. 

That night, Marinette fell asleep surrounded by all the people she loved, and she couldn’t have been happier.

---

The next day, her Papa carried her downstairs and placed her into her wheelchair (since she had a broken foot, and couldn’t use her leg, they had given her a wheelchair) before wheeling her outside and placing her into the car waiting by the street. 

Her friends were all inside, and she gripped Adrien’s hand tightly as they drove to the airport. 

As she stood to board the plane, she turned back to catch one last glimpse of them all. Chloé was leaning into Kagami’s side who was holding her girlfriend’s hand tightly. Adrien was waving wildly, and Luka and her parents all raised one hand in farewell. Her Maman and Papa has some red rimming their eyes, but they smiled at her as she was wheeled into the plane. Next stop: Gotham, New Jersey.

Since her flight left Paris at 10 AM, she was set to arrive in Gotham at around 12 PM/noon. With that in mind, she decided to stay awake for the entire flight so that her body could adjust better. 

As they crossed the Atlantic, Marinette, sitting in first class thanks to Chloé and Adrien’s combined nagging; popped her earbuds in, and began to sketch. 

She stared out the window as she touched down, shocked by all the dog and darkness in the city. As she collected her bags, and wheeled her way outside to look for her host family, she couldn’t help but notice how everyone in this city was much more on edge than most normal people. ‘They act as though they are expecting an attack at any second of the day.’ She mused to herself. Her train of thought was cut off by the sight of an elderly man with a powerful aura standing next to a limo with a sign saying “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”. She wheeled her way over to him and smiled brightly. “Salut! My name is Marinette! What is yours, Monsieur!” She questioned, holding out her hand for a handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Marinette, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred responded, smiling gently down at her. “Now let’s get you and your bags in the car, shall we?” He reaches out to shake her hand, and the moment their fingers touched her vision was filled with dark blue and red. She laughed and smiled up at him. “It is an honor to meet you, noble Peacock.” She greeted him in the Guardian language, honoring his position as a True Holder. “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Ladybug.” He answered. She grinned and allowed him to help her into the back of the limo before he climbed into the driver's seat and they sped off to Wayne Manor. 

---

When he saw the young girl, Alfred was shocked to say the least. She was roughly 5’ 4” (162.5 cm), and was very petite. Her stature, combined with her wheelchair, wrist brace, and the cast on her leg, all strengthened his resolve to protect the young girl from any further harm. That was only intensified when their auras recognized each other. How could anyone place the responsibility of upholding balance on such a young child? 

As he drove to the Manor, she informed him that the Cat, Bee, Dragon and Snake were active on her team. Before he could ask her what the threat they were battling was, they had arrived at the Manor, and she had immediately tensed and gone silent.

Deciding that it was better to ask more questions later, he got out of the car to retrieve her bags and chair. Master Bruce and three of his children except for Master Damian were waiting in front of the doors to the Manor, and they all waited patiently for her as she exited the car. 

---

Marinette was nervous. Sure, taking to Monsieur Alfred was really fun, and she couldn’t wait to tell him more about Paris, but now she was meeting her actual host family! What if they didn’t like her? What if they decided to send her back?! Then what would she do?? A small cough interrupted her downward spiral, and she looked up from her lap to see Monsieur Alfred waiting in front of the open door with her wheelchair. Grabbing her backpack, she awkwardly maneuvered herself into the chair and allowed herself to be wheeled out in front so she could meet Monsieur Bruce Wayne.

---

Note: Alfred doesn’t know that Marinette is the Guardian. He just knows she’s a Ladybug holder.

[yamithediaperdork]

Billy's Birthday Bash part 1 (DC)

Billy yawned and sat up in bed, reaching over and turning off his alarm clock which was blabbering away about how the justice league had saved the day last night, again. from alien attackers, Again.

"Like I don't know that." Billy muttered, swinging his blanket off and twisting in his bed so his bare feet could hit the floor. "I was only there."

Billy Batson after all was the secret identity of the world's mightiest mortal Shazam, gifted with gifts from seven gods and one of the league's heavy hitters.

Just thinking about that brought a smile to the 13 year old hero's face and he turned to pose in in the mirror in his bedroom, and then his face fell as he saw his reflection.

while once he said his magic word he was a 6'9 muscled beefcake, the image looking back him with it's scrawny arms and chest which were covered with a faded flash themed PJ top while around his hips was a semi bulky and again flash themed overnight diaper, that was drooping from being used many times (Thankfully only wettings though, something he confirmed with a quick pat to his padded rear and a sniff of the air) despite Billy having only made it to bed at around 3 am.

He hadn't of been worried about getting in trouble for being out so late though.

the once orphan had been happily adopted and taken in by one Barry Allen and got alone great with his new dad and tried to be pleasant around Miss west, Barry's girlfriend who came over often enough to have her own key.

It wasn't that she was unpleasant or anything, it was just with Billy's 'problems' acting up bad enough that he needed his diapers basically 24/7, she insisted on diaper checks, even in front of her nephew Wally who'd come over sometimes with her and was like the coolest guy ever!

The reason why he hadn't of been worried about Barry finding out though was because Barry was also a member of the Justice league, ironically the Flash who's symbol had been on the front of the bulky diaper at one point.

"You'd think he'd be mad these things even exist since till Bat's set up that account for us there was no way to collect royalties." Billy grumbled to himself.

But when asked Barry admitted if he could help kids like Billy who had potty issues feel big and brave like superhero's, He was fine with the diapers being made and mostly didn't touch his share of the royalties.

though as Billy's legal guardian Shazam couldn't touch his share either without permission and was irked that Barry would use some of Billy's money to stock up on his diapers.

"I'm teaching you to be reasponable. if you have to pay for the diapers you'll be less likely to rip them up like that first pack Iris got you." Barry had reminded Billy, with a smirk on his face but a slight stern tone.

"I said sorry..besides they had stupid ponies and stuff on them." Billy had whined back.

still he fell in line and even if he had wanted to just blast the diapers with his lighting some times and suck up the wasted cost, with his new day's symbol on it he just couldn't do it.

Since he was only wet Billy was allowed to change himself, there had been the great carpet incident a few days after he'd moved in trying to change a dirty diaper on his own and Barry had made him pinky swear to ask for help with those.

since Billy was on the family plan and had his own cell phone he could just discretely call Barry when he was smelly, though thankfully his daytime accidents were few and fair in between.

Snapping the tapes off Billy had a minor moment sulkiness again since his budding pubic hair had been shaved clean because of his diapers, though he had to admit Barry had been right, he was getting a LOT less rashes.

balling the soggy diaper up and holding it out with one hand, Billy took a deep breath and pinched his nose with the other one as he stepped on the foot petal for his diaper pail and dropped it in, not wishing to smell memories of diaper past.

with that done he walked around enjoying the lack of a waddle in his step for the precious few moments he would and tugged opened his version of a underwear drawer, stocked full of daytime and overnight flash brand diapers.

"Gee, what's a boy to wear, flash themed disposable undies or flash themed disposable undies?" He asked, tapping a finger on his chin and smirking a little."the struggle is real for 13 year old pants wetter."

"heh, Oh really?" Came a voice from the doorway and Billy yelped and tugged to tug his shirt down, even though he knew Barry had seen everything.

"B-Barry knock!" He huffed, and blushed, hands over over his crotch now.

"I did, someone was off in his own little world.. in fact so off he forgot what today is." Barry said and smirked, pointing over to a Shazam themed calendar on the wall, with the dates date circled in red."Your not 13 anymore silly. Happy birthday~"

Billy, who normally was ignored on his birthday either by choice or lost in the shuffle while in foster care really had forgotten and now grinned big time.

"That's right! I get a real party, with cake, and ice cream an-" Billy was saying and was cut off as Barry zipped over, a little bit slower in his blue jeans and denim shirt but not by much and was ruffling Billy's hair.

"And you get a birthday spanking." Barry teased, but winked to let Billy know he was joking.

"Try it and I'll saw you know what." Billy giggled and blew a raspberry.

"Hmmm flash vs. Shazam in a spanking fight. we could sell out areas. But At last, your butt's just too cute to mare." Barry chuckled and gave the boys chubby cheeks a soft pat before zipping back to the door frame.

the pat while gentle, was unexpected and Billy yelped and a little trickle of pee came out, something Barry missed but the now hard wood floor of Billy's room could handle it.

"Finish getting dressed buddy and I'll get this cleaned up in-"

"Don't say it!" Billy groaned rolled his eyes.

"A flash!" Barry said, zipping off as Billy snatched a pair of daytime diapers out.

'He's so corny sometimes.' Billy thought.

Dressed in a red t-shirt and a baggy pair of black shorts that did a good job of hiding the bulk of his padding (there there was a tell tale crinkle for those listening for it) he made his way to the dinning room and grinned ear to ear as the table was loaded with chocolate pancakes, blue berry waffles, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and a pitcher of chocolate milk and a pitcher of orange juice.

with how fast Barry's metabolism was he was always making big meals and was part of the reason Billy had put on some much needed wait, but even so, this was above and beyond.

with drool trailing down his chin he grabbed a plate and looked over the feast, almost at a lost of where to begin.

"heh, Did daddy do good or did daddy do good?" Barry asked, zipping into the room.

"This. Is. Awesome!" Billy squealed. "Was this all you or did Iris help too?" Billy asked.

"She's out of town on a assignment for a news papers, she's sorry she's gonna miss the party." Barry said, looking sorry.

"Well it's ok." Billy said, starting to load up his plate, a impish grin coming across his face. "we can just have anther party with more cake when she gets back. It'll be hard having all that sugar and getting double presents, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make." he said, topping off his plate and plopping his butt onto his special chair.

with his bulky diapers and the fact he leaked sometimes, Barry had gotten him a dinner chair with sides coming up to the middle of his tummy so Billy wouldn't lose balance and fall off, and it had a plastic cover for a easier clean up instead of the stained oak that the rest of the chairs had.

Naturally Billy had been least then pleased at the fact he had a toddler chair but after falling off of the other chairs three times he'd finally bit the bullet.

"Oh, your willing to have two party's huh? truly, your a saint among men. We'll see what happens." Barry said, coming over and getting his own plate while taking a second to mentally gush at just how adorable Billy looked, his legs kicking under the table as he scooped food in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a month. "Heh, wow, and I thought I was fast..slow down before you choke buddy."

Billy as normal, took that warning as a challenge and sped up.

After 4 helpings Billy just sat back in his chair, burping softly and groaning as he put a hand to his belly, not even offering a fight as Barry came over with a cloth to wipe his face and hands.

"Did somebody maybe eat more then he should of?" Barry asked sweetly, as he helped the groaning boy out of the chair, and after a second picked him up, setting him on his hip and patting his back.

Billy's reply was a loud blench and Barry winced, glad he'd had the foresight to get Billy's head over his shoulder.

"well put. any follow ups?" Barry chuckled, and kept patting, this wasn't Billy's first semi food coma and he doubted it would be the little thunder champions last.

Billy went to open his mouth to say something then a loud booming fart blasted out of his bottom and for a split second Barry wondered if his arm would of been burnt if not for the padding.

"I-I didn't..I.." Billy whimpered and buried his head into Barry's shoulder and Barry could feel the heat from the boys face.

"Hey..hey..it's ok. fart's happen. besides you've gone uh-oh in my lap so this is hardly worse." Barry said, tilting his head and giving the poor blushing little guy a smooch on the head.

"N-Not helping!" Billy whined.

"Ok ok, I'll drop it.. here let's get you sat down and watching some carto-" Barry started to say but anther thunder poot from the champion of lighting cut him off.

"gawd! that stinks!" Billy whined.

"...Or Maybe you wanna go and sit on the potty." Barry said trying to be nice, but the boy wasn't wrong.

"I know when I have to go poop Barry!" Billy huffed and two more loud farts came out and the boy switched from huffy to shocked. "..and that would be right now. Potty daddy!"

Any other daddy wouldn't of stood a chance in the world, But Barry Allen didn't call him the fastest man alive for nothing, but even then it was a close call as he barley got Billy's shorts and diaper down and got him on the toilet before the boy started to unleash hell.

Knowing how Billy valued some privacy, Barry left almost as quick as he'd gotten him in there, though not before bringing a few room freshers into the bathroom and opening a window.

'don't want him to pass out form his own stink.. man..I wonder if there's anther god powering.. skunkculues, champion of stink.' Barry mused as he waited outside the bathroom door just in case he was needed.

Billy groaned as he hunched over and pounded a fist on the sink's counter, wondering if maybe he had a natural power over lava because that's what this felt like as he made use of the potty.

His own stink was assaulting his nose though thankfully daddy had set it up so it would be as bad, though he still ended up having to flush a couple of times just to help with the smell.

Sweating, Panting and feeling drained, he barley had it in him to wipe himself when it was all said and done, and swore he'd never cram that much food into his tummy again all at once.

(of course since he swore that once every three or so days the oath may of fallen on deaf ear.)

which his cheeks wiped, Billy went to stand up on shaky legs and plopped back down, then noticed the shart stains in the back of the diaper and signed.

"Dadddd..IUh...I need help." he called out. huffing and slumping, elbows on his knees and waiting.

when the door opened up and his cousin/cool bro via adoption opened the door Billy yelped and in vain tried to cover up the diaper around his ankles.

4 minutes earlier...

Wally who had retired from the superhero game while going to collage and trying to be a CSI like Barry, had surprised Barry by showing up for the party.

"Wally! good to see you!" Barry had said, shaking the younger mans hand, but then, ever the good daddy/uncle had narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you suppose to be in class right now?"

"The professor for the only class I had today had a family emergency, so the class was called off, and I was gonna try and make it anyways." Wally said, keeping his voice down and Barry picked up on it and kept his down as well.

"Ah, a birthday surprise for Billy." Barry said and smirked. "you know he thinks the world of you right?"

"I might of picked up on that. hence why I pretend not to notice his little problem." Wally chuckled and ran a hand though his orange hair. "you'd think he would of linked how Aunt Iris doesn't do bum checks when I'm around with it buttt.."

"Heh, Well he see's what he wants to see. He's on the potty right now though so maybe if you hi-" Barry started to say when his com beeped.

it wasn't his JL com, but the one he'd given the Meta human crimes department for central and Keystone city, being the hero of the twin cities.

dashing over he answered it, and frowned, then dashed back to Wally but even as he did he was in costume.

"I hate to do this, but Weather wizard and Captain cold are causing heck in Keystone. could you stay with Billy? he might need a little help." Barry said and gestured his head to the bathroom.

"Of course. Listen, if you need any back up.. I might not have my costume, but after Billy gets out.."

"Hey, I'll handle it. I'll be back.."

"in a flash. I know I know." Wally groaned, having the same opinion as Billy about the phase.

Barry just smirked like it was the worlds greatest dad joke and took off.

"W-Wally!? Get out! I-" Billy was whining and had actual tears welling up in his eyes, making Wally just wanna hug him.

"Billy, Billy listen to me, Barry had to go and fight the rouges, I came here for your party..and I've know about your diapers since Barry adopted you." Wally said, cutting right to the chase.

"..No you haven't! I was super careful and someone as cool and awesome as you wouldn't wanna hang out with a diaper wetting baby!" Billy whined, in denial even as Wally sighed and shook his head.

"Really Billy? I'm training to be a CSI, so I'm learning to notice little things, I move at super speed, not as fast as Barry but still, and you crinkle lots." Wally listed off on his hand, raising fingers, then giving Billy a hurt look. "Also, you think SO little of me I wouldn't wanna hang out with a awesome and cool little guy like you just because you have accidents?"

"But..I.." Billy whimpered and sniffled, and went to wipe at his tears with his arm but Wally was there, with a wad of tissue.

"Hey, it's ok Billy. Truth be told, I wet the bed for 3 years after getting my powers. But My Parents weren't as nice and Uncle Barry and aunt Iris. they were the ones who looked after me like they're looking after you now. so no more tears alright? let's get you dressed and then we can play some video games." Wally said, and ruffled the boys hair.

Billy gave him a smile and then hugged Wally's waist, and the 19 year old almost melted and patting his head.

Tossing the dirty diaper, Wally got Billy in a clean over night diaper, and added powder, though Billy whined a little he was pacified by Wally saying he thought those looked cooler.

Going off of that logic Billy when offered a pair of baggy pants to go over the thicker diaper went all shy.

"uh. well..I mean.. if you wanna see this diaper because it's cuter.. and we're not going out anywhere.." Billy said, squirming and shifting all around.

"..I do think it's cuter, and Barry said he'd call if he needed us. Uh.. " wally trailed off and then blushed himself, and put a hand behind his head. "I have ONE question that's been bugging me."

"heh, what is it?" Billy said, holding up his arms for the older boy to pick him up.

"when you change.. do you have to take the diapers off first or..how does that work?!" Wally asked, picking him up and gushing as Billy cuddled in.

"heh, Nah, the big guy isn't padded, and as to how that works.." Billy paused and let wally hold his weight as he spread his hands, wiggling his fingers.

"Maggggggic~"

Wally snorted and smirked.

"your such a dork sometimes you know that?" he asked playfully, carrying Billy at normal speed down the stairs.

"Pffft please, I've seen you marking out over dad's cases when going over them with him, and not his stuff as flash, but as Barry Allen,CSI."Billy teased back.

Wally huffed and blushed himself and then smirked.

"You're lucky your cute or I'd super speed your butt to central park right now."

"heh, you wouldn't do that, A) because I'd say the word and leave, B) because Dad would kick you butt and C).." Billy said and tapped Wally's chest as he listed off his points. "You'd made me cry and hate yourself for it~"

"..Dang, guilty as charged."

Getting into the living room, Wally sat Billy on the couch and then went to look though the selection of games they had for two player.

"Super monkey fury 5 good for you?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Um..whatever YOU think is a cool game!" Billy said, and gave a big grin.

he might of been 14 but in his diaper and t-shirt, and all eager to please his 'big bro' figure, he looked like a toddler.

"Heh, it's YOUR special day Billy, whatever YOU wanna play we'll play it." wally chuckled.

"W-Wellll.. Dad doesn't let me play Duty calls a lot because it's so violent.." Billy said, poking two fingers together.

"..I think Barry will understand." Wally smirked and put the game in, coming over with controllers for both of them.

As Wally sat down he was surprised as Billy moved from his spot next to him to sitting in his lap.

"heh,What are y-"

"it's MY Special day right?" Billy asked, flashing his imp smirk. "So I can sit anywhere I want.. rightttt?"

"heh. of course."

Barry hated how long it took him to deal with the rouges, they had gotten reinforcements from mirror master so it took longer then he would of liked to finish up, plus then he had to deal with the police over and handle the press, all part of keeping up the hero image and while any other day it wouldn't of irk'ed him, knowing he was missing out on Billy's big day, he was short tempered

he had almost snapped at Detective Morro, a long time friend on the force in both identities but caught himself.

"you ok Flash?" his friend asked.

"I..I'm missing out on my kid's birthday party for this." Barry admitted.

"heh, didn't know you HAD a kid. go on, get." the heavy set cigar chomping hard ass said. "We'll try to manage without you for the rest of the day...Oh, tell yer kid happy birthday."

"heh, Will do!" Barry said and after a trademark flash salute, was off and running.

Getting back to the house Barry found Billy in Wally lap and whining a little, sucking his thumb and a kiddy cartoon was on the TV, much younger then Billy usually liked to watch.

"Hey guys, I'm back, whats going on?" Barry asked.

"Oh well see, I was a jerk and tried to make Billy play a game I like an-" Wally started to speak up but a whimpering Billy cut him off.

"Noo! it was me! I made Wally play duty call's with me and it was way more awful then I thought and I know I've done worse as you know who but but..I dunno and I started to cry and and-" Billy whined and whimpered.

"..Billy when your Shazam you have the wisdom of Solomon that let's you work out why you have to do the things you do. not so much as yourself. that's why I didn't want you playing that, you're not in trouble, either of you but I think we're gonna keep it to cartoons or silly games for the day." Barry said, coming over and as Wally hugged the whining Billy in his lap, Barry did too and Billy sniffled and smiled.

"Kay"

with Billy calmed down, they sat down for a few episodes of different baby shows, with billy giggling and clapping alone even if Wally and Barry were bored out of their skulls. trying to break it up they pulled out a few board games but after having to watch Billy do his 'i won you lost' diaper booty shake 4 times in a row (which admittedly was pretty cute with his diaper butt on display) they switched from candy land to clue, where Wally won 2 out of the 4 games.

Barry technically could of won the other two but played bad on purpose for the last game where billy was getting all huffy.

After that they played pay day and once again were subjected to Billy's singing about how awesome he was and how much they sucked, while wiggling his padded rear in their faces but compared to the sulky silence that losing brought, Barry and wally put up with it.

Or at least they tried to till in the middle of shaking his butt in both their faces Billy froze and then let out a muffled poot.

"Really Billy?" Barry asked, waving his left hand at super speed to blow the smell away.

"I-I didn't mean to.d-do that! I'm Sorry!" Billy squeaked and turned around, blushing and starting to tear up. "P-Please don't ha-"

Before Billy could finish his thought, Wally and Barry were on either side of Billy, hugging him.

"Hey, hey, It's alright, Fart's happen." Wally was saying, rubbing and patting Billy's back.

"And I'm 90 percent sure you wouldn't fart on me after winning a game. Now if you lost.." Barry said and winked, patting billy's bum.

"D-Daddy!"

"Hmmm, Feels like it was just a fart, do you wanna sit on the potty just to be sure buddy?" Barry asked.

"Daddy, I know when I have to po-" Billy started and let out a long fart, one eye half closing and a leg coming up. the fart went from a normal sounding if massive one to wet and muddy, then Billy's leg came down and he was popping a squat.

Of course either Wally or Barry could of gotten him to the bathroom, but honestly, they had both agreed wordlessly to just let him fill his diapers.

"D-Daddy I'm Pooping!" Billy whined, as if Wally or Billy couldn't of told, and they just hugged him tighter and went double time with the bum and back pats as he whimpered and put his face in either shoulder, bearing down and finishing up even as whimpers of 'stinky' came out of his mouth.

As the diaper drooped in the back and Billy finished up, he sniffled a few times then pulled back.

"D-Daddy..Wally..Diapie change?" He asked in a voice that made him sound like a toddler.

"Of course buddy. I'll have you clean i-" Barry started to say but Wally moved his hand over and closed Barry's lips.

"I'll change him it means I don't have to hear that pun again." Wally said and winked to Billy even as Barry's eyes went wide from shock then a little glare.

Billy meanwhile was giggling like crazy and hands coming up his mouth to try and hide it.

Barry got Wally's fingers off his lips and smirked.

"oh, you think that's funny little man?" Barry asked, looking to wally and giving a evil smirk.

"I mean.. Kinda.. sowwy.." Billy said.

"Oh come on Barry, it WAS funny." Wally said and smirked.

"..Not as funny as this is gonna be." Barry said and Wally saw what was going to happen but could never beat Barry's speed, so was too slow to stop what happened next.

His hand moving at a blur, Barry smushed and squished the mess in the diaper around, making sure the boom boom went EVERY where as Billy's mouth formed a O and Wally groaned.

Zipping up to his feet Barry smirked.

"Have fun cleaning that up.. Oh and you can't use speed speed for cleaning up a poopie diaper, it'll hurt billy's bum." Barry said and went off to go and start working on lunch.

"wait what?!"Wally yelped.

"I..Poopie all over..I.." Billy was mumbling, looking out of it, and swaying back and forth on his feet, too out of it for Wally to ask if that was really a thing.

"DICK MOVE BARRY!" Wally yelled, then cradled Billy, the smell was even worst now and Wally gulped, wondering if he was strong enough to do this.

Billy mewed softly and wrapped his arms around Wally's neck and nuzzled his head into Wally's chest.

"I Sowwy. I stinky." Billy mewed, eyes semi glazed over.

Looking at how much Billy needed him, Wally found the will power needed and dashed billy off to the bathroom, though he did a slight detour to get a clothespin for his nose.

'maybe it won't be as bad as I think.' Wally thought, getting Billy on his back on a towel in the bathroom, sliding the little guys thumb into his mouth and gushing at how cute he looked.

opening the diaper, Wally realized it wasn't as bad as he thought.

it was worse, much much much.

Wally wasn't a stranger to changing diapers, as big of a family as he had and baby sitting jobs but this was the record for longest and grossest he'd ever handled.

going though a whole freshly opened box of wipes, he got it done, going at normal speed and taking time to comfort billy and talk softly to him.

it took the better part of 15 minutes, and then just to be safe Wally gave Billy a quick bath, semi worried as Billy had apparently slipped into a baby mode of sorts and was playing with some rubber duckies while Wally washed him, at one point offering one of the duckies he had been chewing on to wally.

"Uh..No thanks. you keep chewing." Wally said with a sweat drop.

Billy just giggled and nodded, noming on his ducky and letting wally wash him, only fussing when his hair was being washed, though thankfully Barry had gotten no more tears shampoo.

with Billy washed up all nice and clean, Wally got him dried off with a big fluffy towel and was walking him back toward his room to get him dressed when Barry cut him off, holding one of the presents under one arm.

"Thought I heard the tub running.Lunch is ready downstairs, I'll get the birthday boy dressed. go get something to eat." Barry said.

"Heh, Sure, now that I've handed all the smelly stuff you wanna tag in." Wally teased, and Billy giggled.

"What can I say, Perks of being a daddy and honorary uncle." Barry said.

Wally just shook his head and headed down the step while Billy toddled along side Barry, wrapped up in the towel and then just laid back his bed, willing to let Barry do all the work.

"heh, your being pretty cute kiddo. maybe you should poop your pants more often." Barry teased, tickling billy's tummy and getting a fit of giggles out of him.

Deciding with how little Billy was acting and the bigger accidents he was have, Barry got billy into a daytime diaper but cut slit in the front of back of it first, while Billy watched with a confused look and a finger on his bottom lip.

"Ummm daddy, what cha doing? I'm leak all over now." Billy pointed out.

"Well, if that was your only diapie you would, but daddy figures since we're not going out and you're having lots of accident's.." Barry said and pulled out the bulky bed time diaper.

"Sheesh, I'll be waddling like a toddler with both of these on!" Billy said and stuck out his tongue.

"I know! I don't know why i didn't think of this sooner!" Barry gushed and got a raspberry from billy.

with the bulky diaper taped up over the thinner one, Barry helped billy stand up and gushed and coo'ed at how Billy's legs were forced apart.

"Sheesh, One more and I think I'd be stuck crawling!" Billy said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't temp me." Barry said then handed Billy the present. "Here, open this up, it's from Iris and I thought it might be useful right now."

Warning bell's were going off in Billy's head as he took the present and he had to suppress a groan, it was a flash themed diaper shirt.

"Well what do you think? Iris noticed that your diaper sag a lot when you got pants-less and this will help! Heck, might even get you a few of theses if it works out. but for now,you can be the fastest pamper butt alive!" Barry asked.

"..I think I'll save it special occasions." Billy tried and Barry just laughed.

"Silly boy, this is your birthday, that IS special, here, I'll help you get it on." Barry said taking the diaper shirt from Billy and dashing around the boy. in seconds he was snugly fit in the diaper shirt.

Despite how humiliating it was to need the shirt for his saggy diapers, Billy had to admit it felt right, even if his bulky diapers semi showed.

"Soooo?" Barry asked.

"..I could get used to it. " he said and started to head for the door, realizing just HOW bad his waddling was now as Barry squealed behind him. "..I'll calling it in. carry me."

Billy sighed then giggled, holding his arms out.

"Well if I HAVE to." Barry laughed, coming over and picking up Billy and heading for the dinner table.

So far the day had been fun and cute, and it was only gonna get better.

[abbacchiosbelt]

27 with Risotto please. (Hey I know you were having a rough time earlier, I hope you’re feeling better and the new year is a good one for you. Love your writing!!!)

cw for possessive behavior, unhealthy thoughts, unreliable narration, implied emotional manipulation, and brief but suggestive content.

Being designated as a runner between dangerous groups in Passione hadn’t been your first choice in life. If it were anyone else, you could run from the debt that had accrued under your family name. No one escaped Passione, though, and it’s how you found yourself facing life as a runner while staring down the barrel of a gun. You were only offered two choices — life under Passione or death by Passione.

Life, though unfair, was what you had chosen.

The job you were given was almost the lowest of the low, yet at the same time, you were given dangerous assignments. You did little more than deliver messages between teams, but the high caliber of the messages put a target on your back. Walking outside was risking being attacked, though ignoring your assignments would result in a far worse fate. 

Still, there are little perks. Not everyone in the organization treats you like dirt — a few of the members you’d met have escorted you while delivering messages, and some have even offered simple comforts like a cup of coffee or a pack of cigarettes. While some would scoff at such small offerings, small acts of kindness helped to restore some humanity to your tired mind. 

There was one group, though, that made a chill run up your spine every time you arrived in front of their safe house. 

Today happened to be one of those days where you were assigned to deliver a message to your least favorite group. It wasn’t so much that they were rude — they were stand-offish like many of the men you’d met in Passione, but there was something off about them that you hadn’t noticed in other members. The way they leered at you with a dark look in their eyes, or how the more outgoing members would wrap a heavy arm around your shoulders when you arrived.

It was unnerving, yet the fear of retaliation kept you from complaining. What scared you the most was their capo, Risotto Nero. It’d only been a coincidence that you’d learned his name, something you feared that would find you a fresh spot inside of the ground. One of his men had casually dropped it, playing coy when they saw the shock on your face.

Risotto didn’t say anything to either of you, instead just subjecting you to a slow and piercing look that left your skin covered in goosebumps, and a racing heart that told you to run away as fast as possible. 

“Lucky break,” The offending party had scoffed, earning a sharp reprimand from his capo. (You’d later learn that this man’s name was Illuso and that causing trouble was something that brought him fun, especially if it was the expense of others.) 

You’d left that day with a feeling that something was very, very wrong. 

-

You steel your nerves as you knock in the rusty door with the pattern you’d been instructed to use for deliveries to this group. The last visit had left you with a sinking feeling in your stomach and the way your heart dropped when you got your assignment just hours ago had left you ridden with anxiety. There was nothing you could do but follow your orders, so follow your orders you did.

It doesn’t take long before the door is rattling as various locks are undone, creaking open to reveal a tuft of green hair and a nervous face. Pesci you recognized and found him the least offending (though still odd) member of the group. 

“Fra,” Pesci calls behind himself. “I’m letting the runner in.” Pesci opens the door and you quickly walk inside the dreary safe house, dread settling into your bones. The decorations, if they could be called that, led you to believe that every man in the group was a bachelor. There was always a thin coating of dust on the coffee table and sometimes the meager kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes. 

Pesci’s Fra, or Prosciutto as you’d been told, rises from the couch and clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I’ve told you, Pesci. You don’t need my permission for this. Do better.”

“Sorry,” Pesci mumbles. He steps out from behind you after the locks are redone, scuttling behind Prosciutto to nervously look from the floor to you. It made you feel awkward. 

“Let’s hear it, then. I don’t have all day.” Prosciutto was always curt with you, treating you like you were nothing more than a speck of dust on his designer suit. Before you can open your mouth a deep voice interrupts the two of you, sending a wave of fear across your body.

“I need them in my office today.” Without turning, you know it’s Risotto. Prosciutto raises his eyebrow in your direction and shrugs.

“Hey,” Prosciutto snaps, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. “Pay attention. Follow Risotto.”

You bite back the insult you want to throw at him and wrench yourself out from his grip, nodding curtly before you turn to walk towards Risotto. Every inch of the man radiates intimidation, from his broad musculature to his impossible height. To not fear someone like Risotto Nero would be a death wish. 

“Come,” Risotto states. The walk to his office is filled with an uncomfortable silence, made even more nerve-wracking when you step inside the small room and find the door shut behind you without even being touched. Locks slide in the door themselves and you swallow in anxiety. You’d heard of Stands, anyone in Passione knew about them, but you hadn’t been permitted to take the supposed test that gave you one.

You guessed, judging by this group’s high-security messages, that they all held dangerous Stands. You didn’t really want to know more. 

“Sit.” Risotto commands, already looming behind his thick oak desk. It was the nicest piece of furniture you’d seen in their safe house. You sit on the rickety chair placed in front of the heavy desk and fold your hands in your lap, not making eye contact out of respect for someone superior to you in ranking. At least, you hoped he’d interpret it that way.

“How do you like your job?” Risotto’s words make your heart flutter with fear in your chest. It’s the most you’ve heard him speak at once and a question you never expected to hear from someone like him. When you hesitate, he continues. “Speak freely, but it’s in your best interest to be polite when someone asks you a question.”

A strange feeling bubbles under your wrist, yet it’s nothing more than an annoyance. You chalk it off as a simple cramp, taking a breath before you look up and speak. “I’m very happy with it.” It’s a lie, but you’re not sure what Risotto is expecting. If word got back that you were saying bad things about your employer, you’d certainly be punished. The pain from your wrist flares up again, stronger this time. You hiss in pain.

“I asked you to speak freely, did I not? Tell me the truth.” Risotto catches your gaze and you shiver, nodding.

“I wasn’t given a choice. On one hand, the assignments are easy to carry out. I like getting out around town. But I also fear for my life every time I leave my house. Being given permission to carry and deliver information puts a target on my back.”

Risotto hums, sliding his gaze up and down your body as if he was appraising you. It makes you want to jump up from the chair and run despite knowing you can’t escape. Another strange sensation flits across both of your ankles — the same sharp tugging sensation that your wrists felt, though the sting is more prominent. 

“Would you like a new job?” There’s no hint of humor or sarcasm in his deep voice, only a blunt sincerity. 

“W-what?” You stammer. Red alarm bells are going off in your mind, but there’s nothing you can do to stop them. “I don’t think I can. I mean, if I stop, my boss will find me.”

“What if he couldn’t?” Risotto gives you an almost imperceptible smile before you feel an incredibly sharp pain burst from your wrists and ankles at the same time, making you cry out. When you try to stand, though, you’re stopped by a cold sensation digging into your flesh. Looking down makes your blood run cold — you’re held in place by handcuffs.

“What is this?” You shriek, struggling in your bonds. The more you struggle, the dizzier you start to feel. Risotto’s voice sounds like it’s coming through fog when you hear him speak.

“Relax. It’ll go easier.” 

You feel large hands cradling your face and you thrash with the strength you have left, earning you a sharp pain across your neck. 

“Stop.” Risotto’s dark voice scares you into stopping, forcing you to stay still despite the adrenaline coursing through your body. “You’re going to sleep for a bit. When you wake up, we’ll have a discussion.” 

“No,” you mumble, though your voice is already growing weak. Your eyes close against your will and you feel yourself slowly dropping into darkness before you feel nothing.

-

It’s been two months. Two months of struggling against your captor and wishing you could be anywhere but here. Though behaving would earn you better treatment, you can’t allow your will to be broken yet. The ‘discussion’ your captor had promised two months ago was little more than him describing what you were going to do for him. There was no talk of a new job. Your only duty would be to serve him. 

You complied with his mundane requests — filing his group’s paperwork (which you came to know as La Squadra di Esecuzione, erasing any hope you had of escape), cleaning his office, eating dinner together, and whatever activities involved the least emotional attachment. 

At night when he’d crawl in bed beside you, you’d thrash and struggle until he used his Stand against you to hold you down. Though it was only a small mercy in the scheme of things, he didn’t touch you. He’d murmur that he wanted you to love him before that and that he wouldn’t force it on you... Yet Risotto laid beside you in bed every night and held you as a lover would, even though most lovers weren’t held down by bonds made of their own blood. 

What’s worse is that you fear that you’ll fall to his affections soon. Your life isn’t better, but you can’t argue that it’s significantly worse. Being confined in the small yet homey room Risotto had you sequestered in was almost the same in your eyes as being sent out on the streets in fear that you’d be attacked every day. You’re aware enough to know that it isn’t really better... Of course not.

Maybe if you tricked yourself into believing it, you could earn Risotto’s trust. (And your first small step to freedom.)

As your second month with him drew to an end, your will to fight grew more frazzled.

-

Three months have passed now. Each day you wake up and look at Risotto, the revulsion in your stomach churns, but there’s something new behind it. When it passes you feel affection for Risotto that you don’t know where to place. It’s troubling.

At the end of the third month, you’re given a day to relax. You’re left with little to do but read or get lost in your own thoughts. You chose the latter, thinking of freedom and the ability to do whatever you wanted — yet your mind kept betraying you and coming back to Risotto, wondering what sort of life you would have with him if you just behaved.

If you listened to his every word and became his perfect little doll, just as he intended you to when he first saw you. Perhaps all the time you’d spent with him had warped your mind, but as the days went on, it was hard to care, even with the ache of your body being at the mercy of his Stand when you didn’t behave correctly.

It was your fault, wasn’t it? Risotto was doing it for your own good.

-

Five months have passed now. 

You’re laid in bed with Risotto on an early Sunday morning, rain falling heavily against the windows. This morning was the first one where you hadn’t woken up with your arms and wrists cuffed tightly to the bed, and you unconsciously curl around Risotto when you awaken.

“Are you up with the sun today, passerotto?” Risotto softly says, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders. The nickname he chose for you no longer makes your stomach curl in disgust, instead of making it flutter with affection. You’re not sure when the change happened. 

You nod into his chest, sighing. Something about this morning feels different. Tentatively, you rest one of your hands on his bare chest. He shudders under your touch, exhaling through his nose. 

“If you touch me like that...” Risotto trails off. “I wish you would just let me have you.”

Risotto’s possessive words would have made you coil in fear a month ago. You find yourself wanting to bloom like a flower for him now. Maybe you were his, after all these months. 

But if you were going to belong to him, he was going to belong to you as well. 

You lean up and catch his gaze, smiling in the way he told you he liked best. “You can have me today.”

Risotto lets out another sharp breath and pulls you atop his body with almost no effort. A sizeable hardness presses into your rear as he holds you against his body, pressing his face into your neck as he inhales deeply. 

“Passerotto,” he whines in a voice you’ve never heard from him before. Risotto sounds needy and desperate. It makes you feel giddy. 

There was no way you could overcome Risotto, you figured this out early on. But perhaps you could make him just as reliant on you as he forced you to be for him. The small victory you’d garnered has you eagerly leaning down to capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss, grinding back against him to draw another whiny groan from him.

“Give yourself to me too,” You whisper, pulling away from him. You fear for one moment that he’s going to punish you for such bold words.

Instead, Risotto breathes out a hurried yes before he’s pulling you back into another messy kiss.

Yes, perhaps Risotto belonged to you as well. 

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (16) Corner of Main and State

"Yeah, so mom…we made it to New Jersey, and we're all safe...but the Heartstone isn't really...impressive. So, we're bringing what we found home. See you soon!" In Which Arcadia welcomes back it's underground citizens, Jim gets used to mundane life as a Troll, and drama seeks them all out like a magnet.

Ao3 | FF.net

I’m rewatching Trollhunters, because it’s been like a year since I watched it, and the more I listen, the less the plot of Wizards makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but there’s some lore and continuity issues. That being said, I’ll continue to write this story using Trollhunter’s lore primarily, with a sprinkle of Wizards and 3Below lore as I see fit. :)

—

Jim had been through a lot of trauma in his life. At least since becoming the Trollhunter. But nothing was as jarring as looking down to his chest and seeing his ribcage, muscles, and heart beating. 

They had taken the amulet from where it was nestled, and in return, left the gaping hole wide open, oozing with blood, and exposed. Could trolls get infections? Because humans certainly could, and this was just asking for infection. 

He had been lying here alone for a few hours now. It was hard to tell exactly how long in the vast passage of time while drenched in pain. 

When Colonel Kubritz appeared at his side, he wasn’t even surprised. Had he fallen asleep?

“How do you get this to work?” She bit. In her hand, she held the cleaned amulet, and it glowed, aching to be back with him. 

“You can’t. You have to be chosen by it. Even if I die, it will pick someone else. And it might not be you.” 

She slapped him for that, but it looked like it hurt her more than him, by the wince on her face. “Don’t give me that crap. Tell me how to work it!” 

“Just speak the incantation inscribed.”

“We already tried that.”

He shrugged. “That’s all it is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Teach me to use it, and I’ll let you go home.” 

Jim sighed. It was pointless, but he may as well try. 

—

Claire rang the doorbell at the designated house. 

A surly man opened the door. “Yeah? What do you want? No solicitors! Unless you’re a girl scout…no, you’re too old. Are you with the tamale lady?” 

“Hello sir, I’m not here to sell anything, I actually came to ask about the car you had totaled a few days ago.”

“Are you here to hunt down that devil that flipped my baby?!” He gestured to the smashed in car in the driveway. It looked drivable, but one bump away from death. 

“Not quite...I’m actually here to fix it.” 

“Fix it? You want to fix that? My mechanic couldn’t even fix it! And you want to! What are you, 15?” 

“17, actually.” 

“I doubt you have the experience for this, little lady.” 

“Oh, I’m not a mechanic, I’m a sorceress.” 

“A what now?” 

“Sorceress, a witch! Do I have permission to fix your truck?” 

“Girlie, if you can fix my truck, I’ll owe you a huge favor.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that!” With a little skip, Claire went over to the truck and rested her hands on the hood. “Ad initium redire...” Her hands glowed purple, and pulsed against the metal, making it groan. Then it began to twist and crunch, popping out dents and welding pieces back together. 

The old man stood in shock as his beloved truck knit back together, and when she was done, it was in perfect condition. 

“How did—where did you—?!” He rounded the car, circling it like a vulture. “It’s perfect! You even took out that bump from years ago! You’re a miracle worker, girlie!” 

Claire fell on her butt on the driveway, dizzy and winded. “Glad to help.” 

“You alright?” 

“Just a little winded. I’m still getting used to using magic, especially without a staff. It’s exhausting.” 

“Well why don’t you take a seat up on the porch instead of the road? I’ll get you a beer.” 

“I’m seventeen.” 

“You’ve earned it!” 

Claire chuckled to herself and climbed to her feet. She followed the man up his steps and took a seat on the porch swing while he went inside. 

Only a minute later, he returned with beers in hand. “Here you are darlin’. Summertime ale. I’m partial to dark ale myself, but my neighbor got me this pale ale. It’s pretty good! You have a favorite?” 

Claire took a sip and tried to hide the grimace. “I don’t really get to drink very often, unless it’s a special occasion.” 

“Right right, we’ll keep it our little secret. Now then, I owe you a favor. You just saved me a whole chunk of change and a basket of anxiety. You must have something in mind since you offered?” He suddenly sat up straight. “Oh god, you don’t want my soul do you?” 

Claire snorted. “No no, you can keep your soul! Don’t know what I would do with it anyways...You know the boy that damaged your truck in the first place?” 

“I only saw a glimpse of him, that blue devil? What about him?” 

“He’s actually my boyfriend, and he’s really very sweet and usually not like this. But he was...fed something he shouldn’t have had and it made him go berserk.” 

“Crying shame.” 

“I’ll say! So the army came in and took him away! They wouldn’t listen to us at all!” 

“So what do you want me to do about it?” 

“We are going to run a campaign to get him out. Hopefully, if we get enough attention on the issue, they’ll let him go.” 

“Oh, I gotcha.” 

“So if you could just...spread the truth around town? He’s actually the one that stopped that troll invasion back at the beginning of summer.” 

The man looked surprised at that. “No kidding, that was him? Well, he’s a local hero! He’s been talked about a lot since then! Sure I’ll set the record straight! What’s this kid’s name?”

“Jim Lake Jr.” 

“Got it! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it up at the lodge, and the rotary, and the chess club...”

—

The phone was ringing, he had been successfully patched through. Strickler sat in his office after hours, wanting to make the call as private as possible. 

“Stricklander, I haven’t heard from you since the fall of the Janus order. What reason have you called on me?” 

“Can’t I just call an old friend to catch up?”

“You? No.”

Walt cracked a smile. “Fine. I need a favor.” 

“Changeling to changeling, or school principal to army general?” 

“The latter, actually.” 

The man on the other line laughed. “Color me intrigued.” 

“You know of the human Trollhunter, correct?”

“Just what you wrote in your dossier, a human male, 16 years old, lives in Arcadia Oaks, California, turned half-troll by the wizard Merlin. Responsible for the death of Bular and Gunmar. Quite a remarkable young soul. Is there anything else to know?”

“He’s been captured by the United States Army.”

The man let out half a chuckle. “Captured? What dumb trouble did he get into?”

“His deadbeat father left out some cocaine for the boy to find, he thought it was trash, and ate it.”

Distantly on the other line, there was laughter, a strong bark of laughter that lasted far too long. When he came back, he was calm. “How unfortunate.” 

“He’s a good kid. Why would there be a kilogram of cocaine in the trash anyways? I fail to see the humor in the situation.” 

“Of course. So, I assume, he went on a rampage following his meal, and then attracted the attention of some of us?” 

“So you haven’t heard about it?” 

“Not where I’m stationed. But give me a moment.” The line went silent, only a very distant and quiet tapping of keys on a keyboard being tapped. Then the man returned. “I’m glad you told me about this. This incident hasn’t been reported to our database. That shows evidence of misconduct. Did you get the name of the commanding officer responsible, by chance?” 

“Colonel Kubritz, I believe.” 

More typing. “Area 49-B.”

“That name was also passed around.” 

“Technically not my jurisdiction, and since she didn’t report it, I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“I’m afraid you will officially know about it soon.” 

“Oh?”

“His friends and family, myself included, are going to put on a protest for his freedom. Drawing attention to the situation.” 

That echoing laughter was back again. 

“It wasn’t my idea, in case you were wondering.” 

“I know, you wouldn’t come up with something so bold. Regardless, go ahead in through with it. I’ll make sure whatever protest happens gets brought to my superior’s attention, and then I will take it from there.” 

“Thanks. I will owe you one.” 

“Oh come now, Walter, we Changelings that survived the Fall of the Janus order have to stick together. Besides, I heard rumors that you’re caring for my familiar?”

“He’s still in the cradle stone, and the moment. One baby at a time, for now.” 

“Then we’re even. Besides, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Your kindness is refreshing. I’m glad Gunmar didn’t eat you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“We’ll be in touch then, Samuel.” 

“Of course, Walter.” 

—

“How goes the car repair?” Asked Merlin, as he met up with Toby and Claire in the park. 

“Ugh, exhausting. First I stopped at the mechanics, and they’re still backed up with fixing other cars. Apparently, Gunmar’s army did a number and backed them up for months. But they gave me the names of all the clients who got totaled from Jim. I had to hit the scrap yard for four of them, and I just finished another two in driveways.” 

“How many does that leave you with?”

“Seven more,” she sighed. “How goes the road work?”

“It goes. Now come along, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for them to follow as he turned and started walking away. 

Sharing a dubious look, Toby and Claire quickly caught up with him. He led them to a bookstore, where a young man was sweeping outside. 

“Hisirdoux, my faithful and loyal apprentice—“

“You're damn straight I’m loyal!” He shouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been cleaning tables for the last 900 years!” 

“Calm yourself boy, I’m here now, aren’t I? And I need your help.” 

“Finally! What is it? Just say the word!”

“I need you to go with Miss Claire Nuñez and help her restore recently smashed vehicles.”

“What?”

“Or, you can repair street damage.” 

Douxie crossed his arms. “What is this? I saw what happened! There were trolls, and evidence of Morgana! And now you need my help? To clean up, several months later?”

“That is correct.” 

“Why didn’t you call for me back then?!”

“I forgot.” 

“You forgot? About me?”

“Oh come now, don’t take it personally. I was busy trying to prepare the Trollhunter to fight Gunmar. And get my magic back from Morgana.” 

Douxie seemed to become more sympathetic at that. “Morgana stole your magic?” 

“Yes, but it’s all in the past now. Everything is fine. Well, not really. Seems that the US Army has declared the Trollhunter as a menace to society. We must get the trust of the city on our side if we are to get them to trust us, and agree that his capture is unjust.” 

“Please,” said Claire. “We need all the help we can get.” 

Douxie sighed. “Alright. Afterwards, you’re training me again.” He gave Merlin a hard look. “And no amateur magic either. I’ve been doing the same drills for 900 years. I think I’m ready for more advanced work.”

“Oh, you will be. Starting with helping Miss Nuñez field her shadow magic.”

Douxie looked at her, in awe. “You’re practicing shadow magic? Truly?”

“It’s a recent development…”

“She took Morgana’s Skathe-Hrün, and wielded it without any training. Because of that she has a tether to Morgana in the Shadow realm, who has been teaching her ever so slightly. I’m not allowed to train her, but she could use the guidance of a Wizard in the physical realm. Do you understand Hisirdoux?” 

“I do, and I’ll be happy to teach her…I’m just…I’ll need a moment or two to digest the sentence you just said.” 

“Well, don’t take too long, we have a Trollhunter to rescue!” 

—

There was a heavy knock on the door, which was never a good thing. Especially nowadays. 

Still, Barbara went to the door. 

Standing there was Detective Scott and James Lake Sr. 

“Does this belong to you?” Asked the detective. 

“I don’t claim him, no.” 

Her almost ex-husband smiled at her, pleadingly, “Please Babs?” 

“What is he even doing out? You arrested him!”

“About that…” Detective Scott winced. “We don’t have enough to keep him on.” 

“What!” She shouted. “He confessed in front of a bunch of people!”

“Which would be helpful if we had a case for a trial. But as it stands, he doesn’t actually have any drugs on him. And we don’t have a confession on tape. So…we’re shit out of luck.” 

“Oh come on Louis, you know the cocaine came from him! Where else would Jim have gotten it from?” 

“Look, the chief’s not thrilled that we didn’t arrest the guy responsible for trashing the town, but we’re supposed to arrest someone else without evidence?” 

Barbara threw her hands up in the air. “With probable cause!” 

“That doesn’t work with drug dealers. He’s clean, Barbara. All the blood tests came back clean too.” 

“Ugh.”

The house shook slightly, and Barbara felt the floor bow behind her. “Is there a problem, officer?” Asked Draal. 

“Nothing you can help with, Draal. Thank you.” Barbara sighed. “James is not being charged.” 

“But he is a criminal, this degenerate flesh bag poisoned the Trollhunter! He should face banishment for his crimes!” 

James withered a little with the glare Draal gave him. 

“Well,” said Officer Scott. “Maybe you can keep an eye on him from now on. If you have evidence that he is dealing, like physical traces of cocaine on the premises, call us. But for now, there’s not much else we can do.” 

“This is ludicrous.”

“I know, I’m sorry Barbara. How is Jim?”

She frowned. “You haven’t heard? The army came and collected him from the hospital!”

Louis sputtered. “The army came?!”

“Yes!”

“Where were they when Gunmar was terrorizing us?” He scoffed. “Again, sorry Barbara, I can’t help you here.” 

“It’s alright. We’ve got a plan.” 

“Love to hear it, but I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m sure Toby will tell Darci, and she’ll tell me. Good luck!” And he left James on the porch. 

“Babs, I’m sorry…” 

“Save it.” Barbara scoffed, but allowed him in the house. 

Draal never took his eyes off the man. 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I have no more supply. And after Rudy found out what happened to my last Kilo, she’s not getting anymore for me. So…”

“I’ll have to thank Jim for keeping a kilogram of Cocaine off the streets of Arcadia. We have a fairly low rate of drug use around here, and we don’t need you to ruin people’s lives.” 

James sighed, knowing he had dodged a huge bullet by being let off the hook. He’d rather deal with his wife than with his ex-associates in jail any day. “I think I’ve still ruined people’s lives anyway.” He walked into the living room, only to halt at the signs on the table. 

Release Jim Lake Jr. 

Justice for Jim

Let Lake Go!

“Babs, what is all this?”

“That’s part of our plan to free Jim! I’m friends with the councilwoman, and she suggested that we campaign for his release. Bringing a lot of unwanted attention onto his capture will stir the government to let him go!”

James jutted out his jaw, a sign of barely concealed rage. An expression Barbara had grown very used to in the last few months. “So, you’re going to put his name—my name in the news? You’re going to broadcast what city we live in?” 

“Yes.” 

He whirled on her, grabbing her arm. “Babs, people are looking for me! Horrible, mean, and ruthless people! If you put his name out there, they’ll know where to look!” 

“All the better! Then they can come take you off my hands!” 

“You don’t understand! I owe them a lot of money, and they’ll take it anyway they can! That includes extorting you, Jim, and whoever else they connect with me!” 

Draal stepped in, removing his hand from Barbara’s arm. “This house is under my protection. If anyone dare tries to enter, they will be dealt with swiftly.”

“You don’t know what these men are capable of.” 

“I assure you, I’ve decimated armies of flesh bags in my day. These men are no different.”  

Barbara smiled. “If you’re really that scared, I hear Vermont is lovely this time of year.” 

James just narrowed his eyes, before storming out of the room.

—

The first rally took place from 3pm to dusk, starting from after school, and leading up to when Trolls would be able to participate. Granted, it was only a handful of people, but standing in the middle of downtown did garner a lot of attention. More than a dozen people walking past had stopped to ask about the cause. They were then given a short synopsis of the situation, as it pertained to them:

“Jim is a 16 year old student who was chosen by the trolls to be our protector. He willingly gave up his humanity to defeat Gunmar the Black, the monstrous troll that attacked the city at the beginning of the summer. Now, he looks like a troll, and was sabotaged to go into a rage and damage the city. The US army took him away without a trial! He’s a hero to the city, and deserves fair treatment!”

Reactions ranged from: 

“Oh, he stopped that thing?”

To:

“Oh my god! He’s just a child!” 

Overwhelmingly, there was no negative feedback, at least in person. But it was only day one. 

—

“This daylight...is it significant?” The colonel asked, as she circled his table. 

“It’s just a name.” Jim lied. “A sword with a name is stronger than one without.” 

“Interesting. Interesting indeed. According to my notes, trolls turn to stone in daylight. Any correlation there?” 

So she already knew? Then what was the point? Was she just playing with him?

“I’m the Trollhunter, and I fight bad trolls. It would make sense to name my sword after something they’re afraid of.” 

She hummed. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Are you afraid of daylight?” 

“Why would I be?” 

The colonel laughed. “Oh Jim Lake Jr. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. You are honest and forthcoming with truths that work in your favor. You freely told me of your transformation, and of your victory against a Troll tyrant. But now that I’m edging on the topic of your weakness, you clam up and give me vague answers. I can do this all day, beast. What does daylight do to you?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t do anything to me.” 

“Really? Even as a troll? That’s interesting.” 

“It’s fortunate.” 

“I would say so. Though, now you’ve got me curious. These burns on your skin…where did they come from?” She dragged her fingernail over one of the dark marks.

Jim winced. “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware in my rage state.”

“Then you won’t mind if I find out for myself?” She crooked a finger towards the shadows. Jim could hear the creak of wheels before a lamp with several fixtures was wheeled forward. 

“Oh no…”

“UV lights, all different wattages. Let’s see what works the best, hmm?”

—

ARCADIA TRIBUNE

Justice for Jim

By Nadja Chamack 

Who is Jim Lake Jr. anyway? This is a question I asked myself as I drove downtown three days ago. No doubt, you’ve seen the crowd of students and teachers holding signs on the corner of Main and State Street. It’s pretty hard to miss, quite honestly. Among the students, there’s also Councilwoman Nuñez, and resident Troll Mascot, ARRRGH! Signs range from ‘Justice for Jim’ to ‘Free our Lake’. 

But who is Jim Lake Jr.? And what happened? A precursory search on my end showed only a scant few facts. Jim is a student at Arcadia Highschool, in his Junior year. He was nominated as Spring Fling King last year, and played the part of Romeo in the school play. His criminal record seemed pretty clean too. A misdemeanor for scratching a rental scooter was all that showed up. But hey, who hasn’t done that?

So I went to the source, his family and friends campaigning for him. On Saturday, the group was downtown, campaigning all day long, so I had the chance to interview each and every person about why they were there.

Turns out, Jim Lake Jr. might be the most amazing person in Arcadia. 

From his mother, Dr. Barbara Lake, I learned that Jim is an Arcadia native, born and raised here. He enjoys cooking gourmet food, working on his vespa, and acting. 

Oh, and he’s the first human Trollhunter. 

What? You’ve never heard of a Trollhunter? Me neither. But Barbara and Blinky, another resident Troll, gave me the scoop. 

You all remember that night at the beginning of the summer that we all promised not to talk about? Well, I’m going to talk about it. In fact, I’m here to give you all the answers you’ve been craving. 

Many months before that fateful night, a new Trollhunter was chosen, after the previous one had perished. “The Trollhunter is chosen according to his mettle, by the amulet of the Trollhunter, as created by Merlin, the wizard of Arthurian legend. Jim was chosen after the fall of Kanjigar, his predecessor. Jim is the first human to be chosen, also the smallest and weakest. But, he was the first to defeat Bular, son of Gunmar!” Said his mentor, Blinky. None of this made any sense to me at first, though it was said with great enthusiasm. 

It turns out, the trolls that we’ve gotten used to seeing around town, mostly ARRRGH, are ‘good’ trolls. The bad trolls, ‘Gum-gums’ are what invaded our town and destroyed my car. The Trollhunter’s whole job is to fight off these bad trolls, and gnomes, and goblins, and everything else that goes bump in the night. And so he did. The Gum-Gums invaded from the ‘Darklands’, being led by a fearsome troll named Gunmar the Black, the Skullcrasher, the Dark Lord…he had a lot of names, and it was obviously a bad dude. Gunmar had plans to invade the whole world by blotting out the sun, a.k.a the eclipse we saw. And he would have gotten away for it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids! 

Mainly Jim Lake Jr. and his friends. 

And how does a sixteen year old defeat a couple millennia old, bloodthirsty, all powerful tyrant? With a fancy sword? Close. With some magical armor? Closer. By giving up a part of his humanity and becoming a half-human, half-troll hybrid? Now you’re getting it! Yes, to protect Arcadia, to protect us, Jim Lake Jr. allowed himself to be changed. You may have seen him around town. Blue skin, big horns...okay, I just described most of the trolls that are around here. 

“Jim works the night shift at my store,” said Stu Harding, owner of Thrifty Furnishings. “He’s a very hard worker, and always willing to do the heavy lifting that is hard for the other employees to do.” 

“Despite his appearance, Jim ultimately decided to attend school,” said Principal Walter Strickler. “After the school found out about why he had missed so many days of school, they were willing to move him onto the next grade to be with his peers. He was a good student before all this, and he fought really hard to keep his grades up regardless. We felt he should still have the opportunity to graduate. We were looking forward to having him on our football team, and in our spring production of Beauty and the Beast.” 

So what happened to Jim? And why is there such a big campaign for his freedom?

Well, the truth is that Jim is a victim of unfortunate circumstances. In more ways than one, obviously. Trolls eat our trash. That’s why Arcadia has such a small carbon footprint! (Be sure to thank ARRRGH next time you see him!) And this trait was adopted by Jim too, when he was transformed. 

“He just picked a bunch of items out of the trash. Cans, an old sock, and what looked like a VHS wrapped in duct tape,” said Jim’s best friend, Toby Dolmzalski. “It was a normal lunch for him. But right in the middle of gym class, he turned crazy town banana pants and took off! I had never seen Jim act like that! Ever!” 

After an 8 hour rage through town, Jim collapsed and was taken to the hospital for evaluation. It turns out what Jim had ingested turned out to be a kilogram of pure cocaine! 

At this time, it is unknown where the cocaine came from, or if it was planted purposefully. (Seriously, who throws away a kilogram of cocaine?)

But the damage that Jim caused was extensive enough to catch the attention of the US army, who has taken Jim into captivity from the hospital. No trial, no rights, they even took him while he was unconscious. His friends and family have not heard from him since. 

“I’m so worried,” said girlfriend, Claire Nuñez. “He was injured from the battle with Gunmar, and didn’t completely heal. In the hospital, he was covered in burns from the sun. I have no idea if they’re caring for him properly, or dissecting him like some creature. But he deserves so much better than this. He saved our town, he saved my life, and the life of my baby brother. That’s why we won’t rest until he’s home!” 

“Not bad,” said ARRRGH, long time friend of Jim. “Good troll have bad days, best trolls have worse days. Jim need some good days.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, ARRRGH. 

Friends and family of Jim are asking everyone share #JusticeforJim on social media, hoping to get the attention of someone in charge. All the damage caused by Jim has been repaired, and there were no casualties from his attack.  

Of course, the whole ‘troll’ aspect of this story has to be a local legend. So when sharing it to social media, kindly leave that part out.   

—

“C-Bomb!” Mary shouted from the other end of the hall. She came running and almost crashed into Claire and Toby, holding her phone up in the air. “My twitter feed is blowing up, girl! Look at all of this!” She held the screen up so they could see. 

“Citizen abducted by the government, is this China or North Korea? Neither! It’s the US! #JusticeforJim” 

“Imagine if this was your son. So sad, and so scary! #JusticeforJim”

“This is real life, not science fiction #JusticeforJim” 

“Whoa, where did these all come from?” Asked Claire. “What did you post?” 

“Did you know Snapper Karr did a report on it!?”

“Snapper Karr? From KTTV in LA?” 

“Yes! Thankfully, he left out the whole troll thing. I’ll send you a link. In his story, Jim is just a kid that has a rare genetic disorder that makes him look different, and so the government took him away!” 

Claire winced. “This is…kind of spiraling out of control.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying, Claire,” said Darci. “We want people talking about Jim getting abducted. It doesn’t matter if the world outside Arcadia doesn’t have all the facts. They still know he’s been taken away without a trial, and that’s all that’s important. Besides, Jim doesn’t want the whole world knowing about Trolls, right?”

She nodded. “As long as this works, I’ll be happy.” 

“And sensationalist stories like this blow up for like a week, and then they die out and are forgotten. This won’t last.” Mary waved her hand. “It should work long enough to get Jimmy Jam out though.” Then she squealed. “OMG you know what we should do?! We should totally have a welcome home party! Or-or a parade! Like they have for veterans!” 

“Mary, I don’t think—“ 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it! You’re not the only one with ties to the city!” And she hurried off, texting frantically. 

“What’s up Claire? I would have thought you’d be ecstatic the hashtag went viral.” Asked Toby. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. And I’m happy that Snapper Karr chalked the troll thing up to local legend or superstition…but I can’t help but worry that something bad is going to come out of this.” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.” She scoffed and went to her locker. “It’s dumb, don’t worry about it.” 

No sooner had she said that, did Strickler appear. “Claire, Toby, come with me.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve already spoken with your teachers, now come along.” 

Claire and Toby shared a look, but followed regardless.

—

They were led to the parking lot, where a black van with tinted windows waited, a huge red flag, if there ever was one. 

“Umm…” said Toby. 

“Don’t worry.” Strickler assured. 

A man in an army uniform stepped out of the driver seat. “Walter, good to see you again.”

“Glad to see you as well, Samuel. And thank you for following through with your promise.” 

“As I said, this is the most interesting thing to happen in a while.” He glanced at the two teenagers in attendance. “We’re just waiting for his mother, correct?” 

“She should be here soon.”

Toby muttered to Claire, “Who’s Jorgen Von Strangle over here?”

“No idea.”

And just like that, Barbara pulled into the parking lot, haphazardly parked, and ran over to them, still in her scrubs. “I came as soon as I could! We’re going to get Jim?!” 

“What?!” Screamed Toby. “We’re rescuing him?!” 

“That is the goal,” the man answered. “I’m General Samuel Attila. I’ve been given authorization to intervene in this situation, given that this project, whatever it is, hasn’t been officially recorded. But, bear in mind, you may not like what you see. We may be bringing home Jim, or just his body. I don’t know. So if anyone is uncomfortable with that idea, I suggest you stay behind.” 

“I’m going,” Said Toby. “No matter what.” 

“Me too,” said Claire. “It’ll hurt, but I want to know what happened to him.” 

“Alright, then let’s hurry. The facility is about an hour away.” He ushered everyone into the van, which had two front seats, two benches along the walls, and a gurney in the middle. As soon as everyone was buckled, they headed out.

“Hey, if you know Mr. Strickler, does that mean you’re a…?” 

“A what, Toby?” Asked Walt, with a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“A…man of culture?”

“Yes, I am a changeling.” 

Toby exhaled. “Okay, it’s like super hard to ask that question when you don’t know who knows, you know?” 

“I owe the Trollhunter a debt of gratitude for stopping Gunmar. After he ate the entirety of the Janus order, we the few that weren’t present for his return stayed in hiding. Had Gunmar taken over the world, my death as a traitor would have been slow and painful. We were thinking about sending him a thoughtful gift basket, but I think this is more fun. I love to bully those in lower ranks. The fleshbags get a few pretty badges and think they’re invincible. I love watching them cower!” 

Toby leaned closer to Claire. “He was so nice and helpful, I was beginning to wonder if he was actually a changeling.” 

“Same! But I actually feel better knowing he’s got ulterior motives, and that they have nothing to do with us.” 

“Have you heard from Nomura lately?” Samuel asked Walter. 

“She was in Arcadia for a while. She helped with the fight with Gunmar. Right now, I believe she’s on her way back from New Jersey.” 

“New Jersey? What was she doing out there?”

“After Morgana and Gunmar destroyed the Heartstone, Jim and Blinky went in search of a new one.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot there were rumors of a source in New Jersey. Did they find it?” 

“Yep,” said Claire. “But it wasn’t very big, so we brought it back to Arcadia in a truck. The rest of the tribe is making their way back on foot.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Samuel nodded. “You’re both very lucky. Not many Changeling’s are allowed in Trollmarket.” 

“Now that Gunmar’s out of the picture, I’m sure you could visit too!” Toby exclaimed, before getting elbowed in the gut by Claire. 

“It’d be nice to see it once. I’m sad I didn’t get to see the Heartstone in its glory, but such is life.”

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence. Strickler and Samuel spoke to each other, mostly catching up. But Toby, Claire, and Barbara were far too anxious to keep up with the conversation. 

There were no windows in the back of the vehicle, so there was no way of knowing where they were. From the front, they looked to be in a weaving forest trail. 

Then there were huge cement walls in front of them. 

Samuel pulled in the front gate. 

The man at the gate didn’t look up from his computer. “You’re not authorized to be here.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t recognize your vehicle, so I know you don’t have clearance.” 

Samuel sat up a little straighter, glaring at the soldier at the gate. “How about you scan my badge first, and then tell me if I have clearance, Lieutenant.” 

The soldier gave a little shrug and reached out for the badge, his eyes widening as he caught a glance at the four stars on the man’s shoulder. “Oh.” 

“Problem?”

“No, sir. I just…I don’t need to scan your badge, you can go in.” 

“Thank you. At ease soldier.” 

Toby held back a snicker.

“And, let Colonel Kubritz know she has company.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“As you were.” 

The gate rolled open, and they pulled through. 

It seemed like Samuel’s message was received pretty quickly, because the woman that had taken Jim was waiting for them, flanked by soldiers with strange weapons. 

“Stay in the car.” He told everyone, before getting out. 

“I was not aware of any sort of inspection. You are not my commanding general, and therefore not welcome here. This facility holds highly dangerous equipment and confidential projects.”

“Stand down, Colonel. I am here on behalf of general Adele. I’m here to recover Jim Lake Jr. General Adele will be speaking to you about your discharge.” 

“What are you talking about?” She demanded. 

“You kidnapped a teenage boy from a hospital. Surely you didn’t think that wouldn’t go unnoticed? I have video evidence of you leaving the hospital with him.” 

“He’s not a normal boy—“ 

“I’d say so! His whole town is hailing him as a hero for saving them from an invasion! I thought this facility was for research on protecting Earth from invaders. And you’re punishing a boy for saving a town?” 

“He also destroyed it. Don’t give into their little campaign. Jim Lake Jr. may have done something good once, but that doesn’t stop him from being a monster.” 

“I was just in Arcadia, Colonel. There is no damage. There’s no lawsuits against Jim Lake Jr. There’s not even any pending arrests.” 

“I have video evidence of his destruction!” She barked. 

“Then let the local police handle it.” 

She growled, then commanded her men to stand down. “Fine. But if he does this again, no one will stop me from taking him.” 

“Actually,” he clarified with a smirk. “You’re being discharged. So you won’t have any means to take him again.” 

Her mouth opened in shock, as she fought to find an argument. 

But he was a general, he was above her. 

“Now, Jim Lake Jr.?” 

She grumbled something and started off towards a big central building.

Samuel was quick to beckon the others out of the car to follow him, and headed towards the same building as Kubritz. 

When Barbara reached them, she spoke, “you didn’t hurt my son, did you?” 

Kubritz didn’t even look at her. “I don’t have to share information with civilians.” 

Claire clenched her fists in anger, a black haze coming over her hands. 

But Toby simply patted her on the back to ground her. 

Colonel Kubritz led them through the research facility, ignoring their questions. 

They reached the room Jim was being held in, and she entered her code to open the door. 

Of course, Jim wasn’t the only thing in the room, being surrounded by specimens of all sorts of living creatures, but he was right in the center, with a spot light right on him. 

“Jim!” Claire shouted first as she ran to him. 

The poor boy was naked, lying on his back and strapped to the table with thick iron bonds. His wound from Morgana wasn’t the worst on him anymore, as he was covered in blackened burned spots. The spot that had the amulet was now just a hole in his chest, that went right down to the ribs. Claire could see his heart beating, and his lungs moving, thank god. 

“Jim...” she cried, seeing the carnage. 

“What did you do to him?!” Toby shouted at the Colonel, but she didn’t respond. 

“Honey? Jim? Can you hear me?” Barbara asked, as she assessed the damage. 

His eyes opened ever so slightly. “Mom? Is that you? Are you...really here?” 

“Yeah kiddo,” she wiped some tears from her eyes. “It’s me, I’m here. Toby, Claire, and Walt are here too. We’re going to take you home.” 

His smile was just a hint, and he stated, “I’m tired.” 

“I’m sure you are. We’re going to get you fixed up!” She turned to the Colonel. “Get me a gurney or a wheelchair!” 

She scoffed. “I don’t take orders from civilians.” 

Samuel interceded. “Then get me a soldier who isn’t completely incompetent! If you’re going to continue to endanger the life of this young man, then I suggest you get out of my sight before I endanger yours.” 

The Colonel didn’t waver, though a tremor went down her spine. “Lieutenant!” She called. 

A man hurried into the room, standing at attention.

Kubritz just gave a roll of the eyes. “Follow whatever order the general gives you.” 

“But—“ 

“No, I’m done.” With one last glare to Samuel, she added, “I'll be sending my evidence to General Adele, then we’ll see who’s the one putting the nation in danger.” 

“Go ahead, I’ve already given my report.”

She growled at him, turned and left without another word. 

The lieutenant just stood at attention in front of Samuel instead. “Orders sir?”

“Get someone to fetch the gurney from the back of our van, and send for the medic! And get someone to get these shackles off this kid!” 

“Sir yes sir!” 

Meanwhile, Claire stood right by Jim’s side, holding his hand, brushing the bangs away from his face and combing his hair with her fingers. He had a pretty strong fever. 

“You’re going to be alright Jim. We’re going to take good care of you.” 

“I’m…cold…” He breathed. 

Barbara found some vinyl gloves nearby and got to work examining her boy. “I don’t know about the Troll half, but this tissue looks alright. I don’t see any infection yet, or any tissue death. Of course, we need to get this covered immediately.” 

“Where’s the amulet?” Asked Walt. “That’s what’s missing.” 

“The amulet!” Barbara addressed Samuel. “His amulet, we have to find it!” 

He nodded, “we can’t let these psychos have it. They have no idea what magic it possesses, even without being the chosen wielder.” 

Only a beat passed before the army medic came with the gurney, and another soldier came with a crowbar to undo the shackles. 

“Lieutenant, we’re looking for an amulet that came with Jim. It’s what’s missing from his chest.” 

The Lieutenant blanched. “I don’t know anything about it…I can ask the Colonel?”

“She won’t tell.” 

The shackles fell free from Jim’s limbs, but he didn’t seem to register it. 

“Alright,” said Barbara, “Let’s move him onto the gurney. We can worry about the amulet later.” It took everyone to lift him and carefully slide him over. Then, he was covered up to his stomach with a blanket. 

“You’re going home, Jim. Mi amor, you’re safe now.” Claire whispered, kissing his forehead. 

“Hmm…” Jim weakly groaned. “…for the…glory…” But before he could finish, he fell back into sleep.

[all1e23]

Swallow [Pt.11]

Chapter:  The Hardest Part

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky chooses his path. 

Warnings:  Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. General foreboding. Sweet, soft, protective Bucky. (Yes, that’s a warning. That could kill you!) Protective big brother Clint. ANGSTY. 

A/N:   We are almost there. I’m sorry this is so dark, but I swear it’s not gratuitous. All of this has a purpose. Two more parts! We are almost there loves. Fingers crossed I can have the series finished by this weekend? Maybe. Send me love because I’m needy.  No beta so read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

The kids were sweet. 

Quite possibly, the most adorable kids you’ve ever seen. Emma looked just like Peggy but had Steve’s eyes and soft smile. Henry? He was going to be a charmer, a regular James Buchanan Barnes -- a sweet talker with a kind heart. Morgan was smarter than you, that you were confident. She had clung to her brother at first but warmed up to you eventually. Steve was right; Tony’s sass could be cute when it was coming from that sweet face. 

You wished you could give them more of your attention but you couldn’t. Your heart hurt too badly to give more of yourself. You didn’t know what was happening, but you knew it was bad -- whatever trouble Bucky was getting himself into was not going to result in some fairytale happy ending. You sat downstairs with the kids and played for over an hour before your head and heart began to wander to a place they wouldn’t come back from on their own; you needed Bucky. Henry had become bored rather quickly and decided to follow Steve around, his little shadow Peggy had said. 

If Henry was going to look up to and aspire to be anyone, there weren’t many men better than Steve Rogers -- having a little bit of his Uncle Bucky in him wouldn’t hurt either. 

The girls took the absence of boys to talk about their favorite glitter nail polish, but Morgan didn’t seem to share Emma’s enthusiasm. Somewhere between the sparkle teal and cotton candy polish debate you snuck off, leaving the girls with their mothers and retreated to Bucky’s room -- your room according to Bucky. Or, well, maybe not now. You didn’t know if he ever wanted to see you again. You couldn't blame him if he didn’t. 

The bed sagged when you sat down on the edge, and you regarded all the bags and boxes you brought with you. Steve wasn’t judging your choices, but your boxes were -- especially a particular wooden box that held a lot more than just some old letters. You tucked your legs under you and sat the old box on your lap, running your hands along the edges. Stupid box. You had no idea why you kept it this long, it’s just a dumb box Bucky used to keep all your photos, concert tickets, and notes in. Somehow the damn thing ended up with you when you left, and you haven't dared to peek inside. 

If it's just a dumb box, then why couldn’t you look inside? You swore you could hear the case mocking you, judgemental and condescending tone firmly in place. “No one asked you, okay? I can open you if I wanted to.” You grumbled quietly to the empty room, taking a deep breath and forcing your fingers to flip the lid of the box open. 

A strangled sob fell from your lips that quickly melted into laughter at the sight of the note resting on top, ‘Meet me after English? I haven’t seen you in hours, and I don’t think I can make it another hour without kissing your lips, pretty girl.’ The paper had begun to yellow, and the edges were soft to the touch from age. 

You gently set the waned paper on the bed beside you as your fingers slowly flicked through the contents of the box -- so many concert tickets you couldn’t count them all, dried daisies you had long forgotten and piles of pictures that held your best memories. 

“Are you going to marry Uncle Bucky?” A little voice asked from the doorway, making you jump. You looked up to discover Emma and Morgan watching you with a curious glint in their eyes. Somewhere downstairs, Peggy Carter was far too happy with herself. You waved them in and set the box on Bucky’s bed so they could have a look, and the shock wore off enough for your answer. 

“Um, I don’t--I don’t really know.” 

"I think you should,” Morgan admitted. 

"Why's that?” You asked, an amused smile curling up your lips. 

"He loves you," Morgan answered with a head tilt and 'are you serious' expression on her face -- Tony's daughter. No question about it. 

“And you’ve loved him your whole life, and he's never loved anything as much as he loves you. That’s what momma says anyway,” Emma added, you quirked a brow up as you watched the girls flipping through your old pictures, you inquired, “What else did your momma say?” 

“That you both are stubborn and if you stopped running and talk to each other you could be finally together and be happy.” Emma giggled and held up a picture of you and Bucky from seven or eight years ago -- you’re not entirely sure at this point. It was a long, long time ago. 

The date didn’t matter, it was pre-breakup, before your dad and before-- back when you thought the two of you could get through anything as long as you had each other. The both of you looked so young and so full of hope for your future. That was a good day. You could see it all clearly; it was another clubhouse bonfire, and Peggy had snagged the picture while your eyes were focused on the fire and your attention was zeroed in on the salacious whispers Bucky was murmuring into your ear, and whatever he was saying had you both grinning a mile wide. 

Things were so much easier back then. If you could go back and tell yourself anything, you would tell twenty years old you,  just how easy she had it, spend less time worrying about the club and more time loving the man in front of her 

“You guys look funny.” Emma eventually continued. “Uncle Bucky looks weird with short hair and no beard, but you look funny, too.” 

You laughed and took the picture from her. “Gee, thanks. I think I have some of your momma and daddy in there, if you want to look, Emma.” The little girl’s eyes lit up, and she grabbed two handfuls of photographs to search through. 

Morgan climbed into your lap so she could look at the picture in your hand one more time, and said with a grin. “So you marry Uncle Bucky and then you can be my aunt! Can I be your flower girl? I like daisies.” 

You looked down at the bright little girl in your lap and back to the bundle of dried daisies in your box. She was too smart for her own good, “I think Uncle Bucky has to ask first, and that might be a long time away. I can still be your aunt, though.”  

“Okay, but I’ll tell him to get moving, so it’s official.” She said with beaming smile and bright eyes as if she just figured it all out because all your problems would be solved if you simply married Bucky, wouldn’t they? You couldn’t tell her the truth. She didn’t need to know that your life was far from a fairytale, and marrying Bucky would never happen. 

After all these years, at least you can finally admit it to yourself. 

--------

“I should have been expecting this I suppose.” Eddie started, strolling up to the tree Bucky was leaning against. When Bucky had called and said he wanted to meet, Eddie thought maybe a restaurant or somewhere with air conditioning. He should have seen this coming after his talk with Y/n, but he thought from everything he’s heard about their relationship she was ready to move on from all that death and destruction. 

“I didn’t think you still had that hold on Y/n. Wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong, though. I should have known she would run right to you.” 

“Don’t bring Y/n up again. I’d hate to rebreak your nose.” Bucky flicked the bud of his cigarette to the ground and leaned in as if he was inspecting Eddie’s injuries. He pursed his lips as if he was studying the damage and then, smirked as smug as can be all while he taunted him. “Looks like you still got a little purple under the eyes there. Didn’t get ice on it in time from the looks of it. You gotta move faster than that.” 

“What do you want, Barnes?” Eddie grumbled. 

As fun as it was to make Eddie squirm, he didn’t come here to ridicule him. “I want to make a deal.”

That had Eddie’s interest piqued. Getting Y/n to testify against the club was good, but having an actual club member, the former president, who knew every secret behind those big double doors and wooden gavel? That was gold. That was the deal he wanted to make from the beginning, but, he never found an in with any of them. This… This could have potential. 

“What kind of deal?” Eddied pushed doing his best to keep the excitement out of his voice. Bucky caught it instantly and grinned like a cat that got the cream. “I can get you Red Skulls, president and all. You and I both know that’s a much bigger win for you than taking bring Steve and me in.” 

Bucky wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t enough. He was tasked with bringing the Winter’s Soldiers MC down, and there was no way everyone was getting off the hook -- not this time. 

“What else?” 

“What else?” Bucky echoed. “Taking down a large crime organization that's selling guns and killing innocent people ain’t enough for ya?” 

“No, it’s not.” 

Bucky smiled, but it was bittersweet. He already knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He had hoped, but he knew. 

“I’ll take ownership of the mess that happened two years ago. Out on Lone Oak. No one else from my club was involved, and everyone walks for whatever you found out during the few times you infiltrated my club like the rat that you are.” 

“I thought it was Steve’s club?” Eddie urged, disregarding the rat comment completely. 

“It was my father’s club and passed the gavel to me, it’s my club. I give the orders and take full responsibility for anything that happened over the last decade.” 

“Lone Oak, huh?” Eddie takes a deep breath. Lone Oak was a pretty big deal, and the case was never closed. It would be a huge deal to finally put the cold case to rest and have someone to charge for the mess of illegal weapons they found under all the rubble and ash. Eddie was pretty sure the credit for Lone Oak belonged to Schmidt, and Steve and his men were simply cleaning it up, but if Bucky wanted to take the blame and Eddie could claim the takedown, then who was he to fight Bucky on it?

“You’ll get the max with your record. That’s fifteen years--” 

“Seven and no parole.” Bucky countered. 

Eddie snorted and shook his head. “Seven is a joke. How about I just arrest all of you now? You, Steve, and Clint on gun charges. Oh, and Tony and little Petey boy on hacking into how many federal databases?” 

Bucky pushed off the tree behind him and started towards Eddie. “You can’t bullshit me like you can Y/n. She’s got a soft heart, and I know men like you use that to your advantage, but I know how this works. You don’t have shit on the club. Maybe you can arrest a few of us on minor charges, but Fury will have us out before you can finish typing your damn report, which is why you haven’t made your move and why you went after Y/n.” 

“I thought she should know who she’s going to bed with,” Eddie hissed. 

Bucky eyed him for a longer than usual pause, watching the man as if he was in the middle of working him out and discovering a weakness he could use against him. Bucky didn’t like the look in his eyes when he talked about Y/n, and he didn’t like his temper. It left a traitorous pit in of bottom of his stomach -- before this went any further, he needed to be sure his girl was safe. 

“What’s your deal? I gotta say you seem a little too invested in my girlfriend.” 

“You don’t remember me do you?” Eddie asked with a broad smile, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. It was born from anger, annoyance, and maybe, a little embarrassment. 

“Can’t say that I do,” Bucky answered, not apologetic in the least. The man threatened his girlfriend so no, Bucky doesn’t have an ounce compassion for Eddie Brock. Eddie sighed and glanced up towards the clouds before he explained.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Y/n didn’t either. We went to the same school for four years, and not one of you recognized me, but none of you paid any attention to me back then either. How do you think I was able to slip in and go unnoticed for long?” 

“So that why you’re doing all this?” Bucky needed the clarification because if this is what Bucky thought it was, he had to make sure Steve handled Eddie once this was all over and he wasn’t around anymore. “You’re mad because she fell in love with me and not you?”

“No,” Eddie laughed -- Actually laughed at Bucky as if that was the craziest thing he could have said. “No, but she did help me once. It was a silly thing. She’s always had that soft side you mentioned, but everyone knew she was yours. There was no room in her heart for anyone else, and no one was stupid enough to fall for her when you already had her. James Barnes always got what he wanted. Always.” 

Bucky was torn between the overwhelming desire to laugh in his face or knock his teeth down his throat. There hasn’t been a time in his life that Bucky has gotten what he’s wanted. He wanted to tell him how he had to watch his dad die for the sake of the club, how he lost the other half of his soul, repeatedly, and how he finally got her back only to lose her again; this time it was for good. The only thing he’s ever wanted was Y/n, and he could never hold on to her. 

So, no, James Barnes has never gotten what he wanted, and that will never change. 

But he wouldn’t give Eddie that satisfaction -- he was getting enough.  

“Fury already has the deal worked out. Seven years, no parole and I’ll help you get the Red Skulls. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Eddie still wasn’t sold, and Bucky could see it in the way he watched him, but that’s the thing with guys like Eddie, Bucky just had to wait him out. So, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down as he paced back and forth in the grass. He damn-near wore a brown patch in the field before he finally stopped in front of Bucky and nodded. “Alright, I have to clear it, but for now, you’ve got a deal.” 

He held out his hand, and for a moment, Bucky wanted to take it all back, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He didn’t have a choice. Bucky slowly reached out to shake his hand, clasping the shorter man's hand in a firm grip. Eddie grinned, and Bucky yanked him forward, hard. Eddie stumbled forward, but Bucky held him in place by his navy blue blazer and snarled. “I don’t care what deal we made or where I am if you go near Y/n  again I’ll make sure it’s the last fucking thing you do. She’s not part of this. She doesn’t know anything.” 

Eddie ripped his jacket free fro Bucky’s grasps, but they both knew the only reason he got away with it was that Bucky has already loosened his grip -- if Bucky had wanted him to stay right where he was he wouldn’t have moved an inch. Eddie straightened his jacket and met Bucky’s dark glare, he took a breath before he answered.

“I know she doesn’t. The only thing she’s guilty of is being stupid enough to fall in love with you before she knew the real you. She should have seen you for what you really were like I did.” 

“She’s the only one who knows the real me,” Bucky whispered just loud enough for Eddie to hear. 

It was easier if everyone thought he was the one that duped her into loving him -- he chased her until she fell for him and she simply couldn’t fight it, but that was never the case. From the moment Bucky laid eyes on her his heart was gone before he knew what was happening -- he was the one that never stood a chance. 

All he’s ever tried to do was be good enough for her; maybe this will finally make him worthy of her love. Too bad he won’t be around to see that. 

He took a step forward and tapped Eddie’s pocket with his middle finger, right where his badge was hiding. He smirked when Eddie caught the gesture and told him. “Get the deal typed up and signed or I walk. I won’t make a move till it’s approved by the D.A.”

“That’s it? You’re ready to give up everything, just like that?” 

Bucky ignored the question and turned away from him. It was a dumb fucking question, and he didn’t have the patience to entertain it. Of course, Bucky wasn’t ready to give up everything. This wasn’t his plan. His plan was simple, help Steve one last time and finally, finally get to love his girl the way she deserved -- away from this town and most importantly away from the club. He had a brief fantasy of shared vows and maybe even some blue-eyed babies; the dream was gone as quickly as his brain thought it up. He walked back to his bike where his smokes were hiding, and it gave him a second to remind himself why he has to do this. He reached into his shirt and squeezed the delicate band in his rough, calloused hand. Bucky turned his head to glare over his shoulder at Eddie and sighed.

“Once it’s approved and signed by all parties, I’ll make the call.”

“It’s going to take a few hours.” 

Bucky let go of the ring and turned back around to face Eddie. There was no going back now, and it’s not like he had anywhere else to be tonight. “I’ve got nothing but time, Eddie. Nothing, but time.” 

Previous // Next 

[shirtlesssammy]

15x08: Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven

Then:

Fighting the good fight since 2010

Now:

At the Lucky Elephant Casino, God’s knocking back fruity drinks, playing slots, and murdering everyone around him. Things don’t look so fun in Chuck-land. 

Meanwhile, Eileen is living her best new life hunting a werewolf. She’s kicking butt but has a temporary setback when Sam shows up. She shoves him out of the way to finish the job. She asks Sam if he’s following her. MAYBE he’s being a little overprotective, but c’mon, he did just bring her back from the dead. I’m guessing he’d like to keep her on the side of the living a little longer than a week or two.

Later at the bunker, they’re eating their respective burger (Eileen) and salad (Sam), and Dean walks in with the demon tablet. He’s hoping the tablet will reveal a weak spot with God. They’re going to need Donatello!

Cas knock’s on Donny’s door. Hmm, I see, divorced husbands still communicating about the case and Cas still doing things for the cause. 

Donatello comes back to the bunker, but isn’t happy about it. He gets to work eating chicken wings and translating the tablet again. Sam, Dean, and Cas casually hang out in the library and sneak concerned looks towards the prophet.

Donny finds some footnotes written by Metatron about God’s secret fear that he only shared with “his favorite.” Lucifer was already locked away by the time the tablets were written. He must mean Michael. The problem with finding Michael is that he’s locked away in the Cage. Donatello starts to freak out over how overly dramatic TFW’s lives are but then passes out in a chair. He comes to --but it’s Chuck this time communicating directly through his prophet. He tells them to leave it alone. Then he threatens all the women in their lives if they don’t (and I just hate/love this because this calls back to early SPN so much when the women died for all their man-pain.)

They tell Donatello to go home. Then they all decide (Cas reluctantly) to go to Hell to find Michael. Dean sarcastically tells Cas that he can “stay here” at the bunker. And I can’t for the life of me find the post now, but whoever made a post of Dean increasingly going from sarcasm to flat out begging for Cas to stay at the bunker is my hero. 

In the bunker’s kitchen, they cast the same spell Rowena used to get Cas and Belphagor to Hell before. Dean cuts his hand as part of the spell (something he’s done a thousand times before) and Cas takes the time to heal him (but doesn’t touch him like he normally does) and it takes so much of him to do it. I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit before proceeding. 

Once in Hell, Cas leads the way until they run into a bunch of badass lady demons that completely kick their asses. Well, they do until a very familiar voice bellows, “STOP!”

It’s ROWENA!!! 

She’s now Queen of Hell. She’s also posturing up a storm. Ah. They tell her they want to lock up Chuck and they’re looking for Michael. She tells them he could be anywhere. The Cage opened just like the rest of the doors in Hell. She sends her demon minions to find Michael. 

Back at the bunker, Eileen is watching over the spell, and she gets a call from Sue, another hunter. She needs help with a vamp nest. Eileen agrees to help as soon as she’s done helping TFW. 

In Hell, TFW meets with Rowena in her throne room. She tells Sam that killing her was a good thing. She’s queen! Then she asks him to get her another drink (!) so she can have a little therapy time with the other two clowns. She tells them to “fix it” because there’s no reconciliation in death. A demon comes in to inform them that Michael “is nowhere to be found.”

For Perfect Framing Science:

Actually, he can be found at Jaci’s Red Wagon diner. It seems that Adam and Michael are good buds and Adam’s currently enjoying his first burger in ten years. 

Dean checks in with Donatello just one more leeeetle time to see if he’s gotten any Chuck-adjacent flashes. Just when you think you’re out, yadda yadda yadda… He THEN checks in with Sam about Eileen. She is FINE, Dean, they have “an agreement.” Dean picks up on Sam’s waffling, and tells Sam that she fits the parameters of a potential partner: she knows the life, plus she’s hot. That’s way better than the life Sam tried to build with Amelia, a bag of limes, and a dog. This conversation is also notable for Dean’s admission that he’d been in a very dark place not long ago but he’s climbing out of it now.

At the diner, Adam continues to chill with Michael and contemplate the future when Lilith arrives. 

She’s there to bring Michael to Chuck. “I’m not accustomed to being fetched,” Michael says coldly. It looks like things are headed towards fisticuffs when Michael just…burns her to ash right there. Ah, archangels. (Side note: I rewatched this section with the sound off while gathering images and watching her performance is every bit as engaging. I’ll miss you, scrunchy-nose Lilith.)

Donatello has a vision and sees Michael’s spiteful smiting (smiteful?). He calls Dean with Michael’s location. He’s in Cairo! Time for Dean to hop on a plane and hold Cas’s hand nervously the entire time… I’m ready for an airplane destiel fic episode!

Cas has an alternate, non-hand-holding suggestion. He’ll pray to Michael instead. In the quiet of an upstairs corner of the bunker, next to a REAL and also METAPHORICAL CHESS SET, Cas characterizes their last meeting as “unpleasant” and asks to meet up. “I’m not your enemy anymore. Now we all have the same enemy. God himself.”

Mmmkay, compelling words. Michael meets Cas in a warehouse. He remembers Cas. “You called me assbutt and set me on fire.” LOL, classic. Cas faces Michael stoically and lights a circle of holy oil around him. That’s the Winchester’s cue to enter and they do so with STYLE.

DAMN!

Dean presents a set of warded cuffs for Michael’s consideration. There’s clearly only one way out of the circle of fire.

For Check out the Curtains Made of Chains SO PRETTY Science:

Michael is twenty-five shades of pissed off at being confined. In the bunker he accuses the Winchesters of abandoning their brother and then shocks them all by flashing Adam back in control. 

Adam seems much more chill than Michael and reveals that he and the archangel only had each other in the cage so they came to an agreement. Dean, who only recently stopped dragging himself around in a post-Michael traumatic haze, is gobsmacked that Michael’s letting Adam walk and talk. He tells Adam that there’s nothing they can say to fix what they did by leaving him in the cage. “How about ‘I’m sorry?’” Adam suggests.

Michael wrests back control and we go back to Chuck talk. Team Free Will attempts to briefly explain that Chuck isn’t trying to usher in “boring” paradise. Instead, Michael’s dad would rather see everybody suffer, including Michael.

Adam pops back behind the helm and advises them to stop their paltry attempt at convincing Michael of Chuck’s perfidy. On his (their) own, Adam unpacks the situation. He doesn’t forgive the Winchesters for what they did, but he does think they’re operating from good intentions. I don’t remember where I saw this online, but somebody posted that they have never liked Adam more than in this episode. I completely agree! There’s a lovely amount of complexity and growth hinted at through this performance.

Michael finds it hard to shake off a near-eternity of being God’s favored son. God is “having a mid-eternity crisis,” Adam suggests. Maybe Michael should at least entertain the possibility that Chuck isn’t on the up-and-up. Michael doesn’t want to doubt his father. “You still care about that after he left you in the cage?” Adam asks.

Meanwhile, Eileen’s friend Sue calls again. She’s ready to move on the vamps and needs backup NOW. When Eileen hesitates, Sue needles her about having to ask for permission. Eileen rises to Sue’s barb and agrees to meet up. The camera tumbles, Sue swears, and Eileen acts immediately as the call ends. She races to Sam’s room and fills him in on her friend’s perilous situation. Together, they run off to give Sue backup. (I love how this scene both shows Eileen’s need to assert her own independence and her absolute trust and pragmatism in getting Sam to back her up.) 

Cas heads in to speak with Adam/Michael. Michael is still not on board the fight-Chuck train. Cas responds with sass, as is his custom. “I never liked you. I thought you were too haughty. Too…to paraphrase a friend, you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.” 

Now Cas finds him pitiable. Michael isn’t God’s favorite. He’s just a tiny part of Chuck’s favorite soap opera. DAMN, Cas. 

Cas goes even further, telling Michael that Lucifer was the smart one all along, and Michael SNAPS. He flips Cas over the table and gets him in a headlock. Cas struggles, and manages to lock both his hands on Michael’s temples. It’s brain zapping time! Even an archangel is no match for Cas’s mind mojo, and Cas dumps a clip show of Chuck being a dick writer into Michael’s head. 

Later, Cas decompresses alone in the kitchen. Dean arrives, then suggests that Cas might have misjudged the situation and gone too far with Michael. D E A N. Before Cas left, Michael essentially said, “Leave. Get out. I want you dead.” We’ve all been in agony for several days now over the parallels between this line and what Cas thinks he’s getting from Dean and AAAAUGH THE SWEET PAIN OF IT. “We didn’t bond,” Cas summarizes. If you need me, I’ll be hunched in this burning dumpster, muttering about profound bonds. 

The bunker rattles, and they race to Michael’s room. He greets them with, “God lied to me.” He gave everything for Chuck, but it turns out he’s not even unique across the multiverse if there are other Michaels out there. 

Sam and Eileen arrive at the hunt and discover abandoned vehicles. Sam’s suspicion bone is tingling, but then Sue shows up. She’s got this swagger, so Boris and I immediately assume she’s been turned into a vamp because we’ve been watching this show since forever. Uh, Sue’s not a vamp. She’s Chuck! Or…you know, Chuck’s her! [Admiral Ackbar voice] It’s a trap!

Michael agrees to help Team Free Will. He pulls out a slip of paper with a spell on it that can contain Chuck just like it contained Amara. All they need is myrrh, cassia, rock-rose, and the nectar of a leviathan blossom. It’s a flower that grows in Purgatory. Michael opens up a rift-style door with the snap of his fingers.

The door will stay open for twelve hours. Dean uncuffs Michael/Adam and apologizes for what happened to his half brother. Adam smiles sadly and wishes them luck in their Chuck-fighting endeavors. After he/they leave, Cas and Dean turn towards the glowing rift. It’s Purgatory time, baby! And you know what they say about Purgatory. It’s the perfect place to work out your emotions in a friendly, non-deadly environment!

Quotingmoon in Purgatory:

There’s a crack in his invincibility shield

When I go crazy again, just shoot me

Usually I enjoy our little process. I toss something at you guys and you slam it right back. It’s fun! Like tennis! With monsters

What am I picking up from you two? A wee tif? Tell your Auntie Rowena

Why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?

Oh, I didn’t come to beg

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[thistleclaws-hatred]

Five Creatures - Chapter Three

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Wolf walked behind his new clan, his steps quick and full of life. He tried his best to keep pace with them as they entered a more forested part of the territory. He was unfamiliar with the terrain but felt determined to keep up with those who so generously took him in.

As he walked down a slope, he was suddenly hit with a wave of new scents, a flood of unfamiliar cats. Wolf slowed his pace the moment he walked through a sharp thorn barrier, looking up and peering around what he presumed to be ThunderClan’s camp.

“Fawngaze, awaken the clan for me,” Squirrelstar, the bright ginger leader of this clan, ordered to a fellow she-cat. Wolf paused in the center of the camp, all of the sudden very aware of the sharp gazes locked on his pelt. He looked over his shoulder to see the large golden tom from before glaring daggers at him. 

In mere moments cats of all different ages had walked into the clearing, surrounding Wolf. He felt a swarm of butterflies enter his stomach and he felt very afraid that they would escape his throat at any moment.

Squirrelstar bounded up a small rocky cliff and peered down upon the clan, “As many of you can see, we have brought someone new with us to the clan. This is Wolf. He was part of the loners we’ve been smelling in our territory. He and a group of four others have been searching for a place to live and so each clan has taken in one of those loners. Wolf is only six moons old and so he will become an apprentice of ThunderClan.”

Waves of shocked murmurs echoed around the clan, with some coming closer to Wolf as if to inspect him. “Harescar, for the time being, you shall mentor him until I say otherwise,” Squirrelstar flicked her tail towards a brown tom.

The warrior dipped his head in response, walking over to Wolf and touching his ear gently with his muzzle. Wolf fought back the instinct to shrink away from him.

“Wolf, as an apprentice in ThunderClan, you have sworn yourself to protect and serve your clan and your clan alone. From this moment forward you shall be known as Wolfpaw until you have completed your warrior training and earn your full warrior name,” Squirrelstar continued, her green eyes staring into Wolf’s soul.

“With all due respect Squirrelstar,” Wolf meowed, holding his head higher, “I would like to keep my original name for the time being. It is an honor to be welcomed into this clan and I’m sure that one day it will feel like home to me, but for now, I am an outsider and I know nothing of clan customs. For that reason, I would like to be known as Wolf, and Wolf alone,” the loner responded cooly.

Squirrelstar narrowed her eyes at the young tom and bent forward, “As you wish young one, but should you become a full member of this clan, I will require you to take on a warrior’s name.”

“Thank you,” Wolf said, bowing out of respect.

“That is all for now, all of you are to return to your nests and sleep. Wolf should be treated as one of us, not an outsider,” Squirrelstar finished. The ginger she-cat then disappeared into a small cave which Wolf presumed to be her den.

“You and I can go over the basics of living in a clan tomorrow, for now, go over to the apprentice’s den and sleep. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” Harescar’s voice was deep and smooth, like a river running over a thick stone.

Wolf nodded and headed off in the direction Harescar had pointed towards. A black-and-white and tan-and-black tom sat outside the bramble covered den. Neither one of them offered any greeting other than the twitch of their ears. Wolf walked into the den and found a small nest at the far corner of the den, unscented by either of the toms who followed him. He curled up, wrapping his thick tail around his nose and taking a deep breath. He was a ThunderClan apprentice now.

           Wolf felt a sharp claw prod him in the side. He opened one eye to see the black-and-white tom from last night standing over him, “Training begins at sunrise. I’d advise you to get up.”

Wolf watched as he left and felt a sudden chill of excitement run down his spine. Today was his first day of training! He stretched his long legs out in front of him, feeling the smooth muscles satisfyingly roll into place.

Wolf padded out of his den and saw Harescar sitting near the entrance to the camp. Now in the daylight, Wolf could see a thick scar in his foreleg, the flesh around it pale and pink. “Good morning Wolf, I trust you slept well.”

Wolf nodded in response, looking around the camp. A wave of unfamiliar faces stuck him out of the blue. He truly was an outsider here. 

“Today I’ll show you around our territory and explain to you about the Warrior Code,” Harescar began, standing up and flexing his claws into the dirt.

“The Warrior Code?” Wolf asked.

Harescar’s whiskers twitched with amusement, “Follow me.”

Wolf followed after Harescar, trying his best to keep up with the seasoned warrior as they entered back into the woods. Thick oak trees were newly blossoming with life all around them. Bushes carried berries and nuts which brought about a familiar scent of mice in the area. “We can hunt later,” Harescar meowed.

“Now, the Warrior Code,” Harescar paused in his steps, turning to face his new apprentice, “The Warrior Code is what we live our lives by here in the clans. It is a set of sixteen rules we follow, they help keep all of us in check.”

“The first rule is the most obvious, defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. I know that you came from a group of loners but know now that those friends of yours chose a different clan, and therefore are your enemies. You can be friendly to them at gatherings, but only at gatherings,” Harescar continued.

“Do we kill our enemies in battle?” Wolf questioned.

“Not unless it is necessary. This is also part of the Warrior Code. Killing is a last resort, understand?” Harescar got closer to his apprentice, stressing this rule.

“I understand. Is it safe to assume that we should not trespass on other clan’s territories as well?”

“You’re keen,” Harescar praised. The brown warrior began walking again, leading Wolf to the edge of ThunderClan territory, “We do not trespass or hunt on anyone else’s territory. Only a medicine cat can cross over clan boundaries, but only for good reason.”

“Medicine cat?” Wolf’s head felt like it was spinning. The more Harescar talked, the more confused the young cat felt.

“They heal and protect our clan. From the smallest kit to the oldest elder. Which brings me to another part of the Warrior Code: Elders, queens, and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. But, if any warrior or apprentice is sick or injured, they may eat while the elders, queens, and kits are eating.”

“Warriors are fully trained members of the clan and apprentices are the ones in training?”

“Yes. A kit must reach the age of six moons before they can be apprentices and then the leader will decide who will mentor them,” Harescar answered. He paused near a thin dirt path, “Now tell me, what can you smell?”

Wolf opened his mouth to taste the air and shook his head when a foul stench flooded his senses, “Something gross.”

“That is SkyClan’s smell. We are at their border, where their scent will be the strongest,” Harescar explained. “Each clan is known for something in particular. SkyClan warriors are known to be the best jumpers out of all five clans.”

“What are we known for?” Wolf looked across the border but could see nothing but lines and lines of foliage.

“We are known for being the best hunters, keen and quick to strike even in the dense undergrowth,” Harescar puffed up his chest as he spoke.

        By the time the pair returned back to the camp, Wolf’s paws felt like they were going to fall off, but he also felt a sense of pride. On their way back from the tour, Harescar had quizzed him on the Warrior Code and he had gotten almost every question right.

Wolf and Harescar walked through the thorn barrier and once again Wolf saw the golden tom looking directly at him. “Harescar, who is that?”

“That is Lionblaze,” Harescar began, waving his tail in greeting to the elder, “He is an elder and has seen many conflicts. Do not count him out because of his age though, he is a formidable fighter and a wise cat. You could learn many things from him.”

As Wolf opened his mouth to ask another question, a she-cat bumped into the pair. She backed away, her spotted tabby pelt shining in the lowering sunlight. “I’m sorry!” She meowed quickly.

“That’s alright Spotfur, where are you headed off to in a hurry?” Harescar asked, licking his chest fur back into place.

“The nursery! Hazelfeather just told me that I’m expecting kits,” the she-cat purred loudly.

“Stormcloud’s kits I presume?” Harescar asked, chuckling.

“Oh yes, he’s very excited,” Spotfur meowed, her tail curled high over her back, “And how’s our newest apprentice?”

“He learns quick,” Harescar said, speaking as though Wolf wasn’t standing there beside him, “He’ll make a fine warrior one day.”

Fine warrior? I’ll be one of the best in the clan! I just have to be! Wolf thought defiantly, flicking his tail.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Spotfur smiled warmly at the young tom.

          Wolf sat outside the apprentice’s den, gnawing gently on a mouse. Hunger wasn’t really the first thing on his mind, but Harescar had insisted that he eat something after their tour today. Across the clearing Wolf could see one of his denmates approaching, a sparrow in his mouth.

The tan-and-black tom dropped the bird and looked down at Wolf, “I’m Adderpaw by the way.”

Wolf looked up from his lying position, noticing the sleek form of the other apprentice. “The other one is Badgerpaw,” Adderpaw continued, sitting down next to Wolf. “He’s out battle training with his mentor Blazejaw. He’s a large ginger tom with a black face, you can’t miss him.”

“Who’s your mentor?” Wolf asked absentmindedly.

“Honeyspeck, she’s the spotted ginger she-cat sitting by Fawngaze. She’s our deputy,” Adderpaw meowed as he ripped apart the sparrow. Wolf sneezed as a feather landed on his nose. “Oops, my bad.”

          As the moon rose far above the camp, Wolf found himself stir-crazy within his nest. He lifted his head to see his denmates were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling in sync. Wolf stood up carefully and stepped over Badgerpaw, sneaking his way out of the apprentices’ den.

In the clearing, he could only see one cat sitting in the entrance. It was a thick-furred ginger tom. That must be Foxdust, Adderpaw’s father! Wolf realized as he spotted the distinctive white and black markings on the tom.

Wolf snuck closer to the tom, trying to see if he was even awake. 

“You’re the new apprentice,” Foxdust observed, “Your stalking technique is a little off.”

Wolf froze in place. Would Foxdust send him back to his nest?

“A little pent up?” Foxdust asked, looking over his shoulder at the black apprentice.

Wolf nodded, swallowing his fear, “Just wanted to go for a walk.”

Foxdust flicked his tail, “Go for it. Just don’t cross any borders.”

Wolf shot the warrior an appreciative look and walked out into the woods. The cool breeze tugged at his fur as he picked up the pace. He soon was in a full-stride run, feeling his paws barely skim the ground with each bound he took. The apprentice looked up, seeing the moon shine brightly down onto the forest floor. Chase the moon. Wolf thought to himself, an old game that him and his friends used to play.

Still running at top speed, Wolf only had a few pawsteps to stop before he crossed over the WindClan border, a fact that hit him like a badger’s paw as he skidded to a stop. Dirt sprayed out in front of him and all over his own face. He paused right before the border, panting and sucking in deep breaths that reeked of WindClan’s scent.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” A voice asked.

Wolf knew that voice though and he purred, “Moose, I’m glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Moosepaw to you,” the brown tom joked as he stepped into Wolf’s view, “But yes, WindClan didn’t eat me alive. Glad to see that ThunderClan didn’t do the same to you.”

“Not at all. My mentor taught me all about the warrior code today!” Wolf boasted. He reached up with a paw to get the dirt off of his muzzle.

“Same,” Moosepaw disclosed. “Do you think we’re breaking it by talking to one another?”

“Not at all, we’re both on our own territories,” Wolf responded, noticing that his friend seemed more distant. Could them being in different clans for only one day already be causing a rift between them?

“Still, maybe it’s best if we aren’t seen hanging around each other,” Moosepaw gently prodded at the ground with one paw, avoiding Wolf’s eyes.

Wolf shrugged, he couldn’t see any problem with them talking, but he didn’t want to force his friend. “Good point. I should be getting back to my nest anyway, I’m sure I’ll have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same. I wish you the best of luck Wolf,” Moosepaw added, stifling a yawn. “We’ll both be the best warriors in our clans. Even if WindClan is better,” the brown tom joked.

“In your dreams,” Wolf shot back, also in a joking tone. WindClan wishes they could be ThunderClan! Wolf then found himself surprised by his own defense of his new clan. Maybe he and his friends were changing more than he thought.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 10

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,676

Valentine’s Day Surprise Update

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Tissues should be on stand by, Angst, Hoseok’s backstory, our lovely Joonie, and an appearance by Mr. World Wide Handsome himself.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

“What am I doing?” Hoseok asked himself.

Running a hand across his face, he leaned his cheek on his closed fist, elbow propped up on the black high table he was sitting at with his back to the door.

Shortly after you left, he had been running around to clean up the kitchen. There wasn’t much to do really, but he didn’t want you to come home and see the dirty dishes incase you got back before him.

By the time he reached the café he had five minutes to spare. Dressed in ripped denim blue jeans and a black tee-shirt tucked in at the front, he had his trusty acorn pouch attached at the hip. Usually he would be bundled up, but the café he had asked Namjoon to meet him at was kept warm during the winter, making jackets a pain to carry or wear.

A ding echoed throughout the café and with his ears perking up, Hoseok straightened up and turned to watch Namjoon. Upon inspection, the wolf hybrid’s face relaxed when he saw that the only other people here, including the staff, were hybrids.

That was the other reason Hoseok picked this café, not just because some of the best pastries he ever tasted came from here, but because the owner, Seokjin, was a good friend and a hybrid himself. A Siamese cat hybrid to be specific. While the laws had changed over the last twenty years to make it easier for hybrids to live like everyone else, there were still humans out there who thought hybrids were just fancy pets.

“Hey,” Namjoon greeted Hoseok, taking the empty seat in front of him. “I didn’t know Jin owned a café.”

That was right, sometimes Hoseok forgot the Namjoon was still somewhat new to their group of friends. It had been a year since Namjoon joined them, but it had taken the majority of that time for him to become comfortable with everyone. Hoseok felt like he knew him longer though because they had bonded easier and quicker. He liked to joke and say it was because of the dog genetics that they shared.

“Yeah, it’s kinda where us hybrids meet up for some time without the girls,” Hoseok said, leaning back in his seat.

“I was wondering why he kept saying we needed to get together at Kim Seokjin’s. I just thought he liked talking in third person occasionally.”

Hoseok laughed at Joon’s explanation, having to set his coffee back down so he wouldn’t spill it on himself. “Nope. He’s just really confident.”

Namjoon smiled, taking off the knitted hat he wore, allowing his wolf ears to straighten up again. He left the grey fingerless gloves on as well as the green jacket.

“Did Katie knit the hat?” He asked, noticing the way it looked hand made instead of store bought.

“Yeah, and the sweater I’m wearing too. She likes being able to make me things, and it’s sweet that she does it. Plus, they’re warm too.” Namjoon’s eyes had brightened at the mention of Katie, his owner, even going so far to take off his jacket for a moment so Hoseok could see the cream-colored sweater.

It made Hoseok smile, his mind wandering back to you for a moment. The thought of you wielding two knitting needles made him nervous.

Namjoon had been watching Hoseok’s face though, the corner of his lips lifting as he put his jacket back on. He knew what was happening, had gone through it himself even. Before he could question Hoseok about it, Jin appeared at their table then with a smile.

“Looks like you finally decided to come to Kim Seokjin’s,” he said to Namjoon, setting a clear glass mug down in front of him on a blue saucer.

A chuckle escaped Namjoon as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, figured I’d come down and see the place.” His eyes glanced around at the small, but homey, café.

The counter was made out of dark oak wood, and the display case had an array of pastries and treats that had everyone’s mouthwatering due to the smells. Behind the counter were all different types of coffee and espresso machines that looked too complicated for someone who didn’t make a living selling coffee. There was a couch on the left side of the building with a few armchairs around a coffee table, the rest of the furniture being high tables. Jin even had floor to ceiling windows with the name, Kim Seokjin’s Café, written in black cursive paint on one of them.

“It’s amazing,” he complimented Jin.

The Siamese Cat hybrid beamed at the compliment, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you! By the way Joon, that’s Devil’s Blueberry Chocolate Mocha. I have to get back to baking. Enjoy the coffee you two.”

Hoseok waved his hand as Jin walked behind the counter and went through a door, disappearing from sight. Sighing, he wrapped his hand back around his own mug and took a sip of the steaming dark roast, taking a few minutes to collect his thoughts.

Namjoon took advantage of the silence to try the, bizarre coffee Jin had brought him. The name alone had him nervous. At first glance, it looked like a plain black coffee. But when he tilted the mug, the sunlight managed to hit the drink and he was able to see the purple hues. When it finally touched his lips, he was able to taste the dark chocolate. It wasn’t rich or creamy like some mochas tended to be, and upon taking another sip, he could taste the sweetness of the blueberries. Despite its name, it was borderline angelic.

“Jin likes to experiment with his coffees,” Hoseok explained. He had the same thing happen to him when he first came to the café. “To see what works and what doesn’t.”

Namjoon nodded, wrapping the mug in his hand as he sat up. “So, what exactly happened.” He didn’t want to beat around the bush anymore, especially when he was fairly certain he knew what Hoseok was going to ask him.

Hoseok stared down at his caramel colored coffee, chewing on his lip as he wondered if this was some mistake. Maybe he was wrong and was overthinking everything. But as soon as he thought that it died off like a shriveled-up raisin. No, that wasn’t possible either. You couldn’t not be his mate. Your smile alone sent his heart racing while calming him. And every time he had you in his arms, it was like he had the key to understanding everything.

Fuck, he just needed to know. “Is it…is it possible, to know someone for years, and only recent discover that they’re your mate?” He slowly asked, only meeting Namjoon’s gaze at the end.

Only, Namjoon’s face was neutral. It was neither happy or upset and surprisingly, that helped Hoseok to relax. If Namjoon had seemed excited, then Hoseok would start to get his hopes up. If he had looked upset though, Hoseok could only imagine what would happen then.

“Well…it all depends,” Namjoon thoughtfully spoke, shifting back in his seat. “Is it possible though? Yes. Common? Not really. But when it does happen, it usually occurs because the hybrid was going through a traumatic event. It’s like when someone gets hurt really bad and their body goes in to shock, they don’t feel the pain as much until they’re in a safe place and can relax. But once they’ve calmed down and the adrenaline has left the body, they get hit full force with exactly how much pain they’re in.”

Hoseok blinked and was immediately back in the past, more specifically, three years ago. He had been homeless and starving. The Shelters that were created to help hybrids had been overfilled, and it was his fifth shelter in twelve years. Prior to that, he had been left at an Adoption Center when he was twelve years old. And if he went even further back, when he was still a pup, he had been ripped away from his parents and sold to a rich family who wanted a hybrid for their daughter.

Her name was Carly, and she truly was a sweet girl. They had grown and played together, she snuck him sweets when her parents told her not to, and they were as close as possible. Then one night, she mentioned wanting a cat and the next day he was dropped off at a shelter with his backpack hurriedly filled with his belongings. Hoseok didn’t blame Carly though, not once did he think it was her fault. Back then, the two of them had talk about wanting a real pet cat, not a hybrid, but her parents must have thought otherwise.

He stayed at the Adoption Centers until he was eighteen. By then he was an adult and was done with it all. Yes, they provided food and warm rooms, but he was older and known for being transferred multiple times. People didn’t want to adopt a hybrid who seemed to be more of a hassle then he was worth.

For a year, he was on his own. Everything he owned was in the small backpack that had been worn thin over the years. He had slept in parks, ate whatever food he found, and in an effort to blend in with the humans so as to not get sent back to a shelter, he wore hats to cover his ears and tucked his tail either under his shirts or down his pant legs, which hurt like hell at times. Rain or shine, he suffered through it all.

When he wasn’t able to find a bridge or tunnel, he was stuck in the elements. Even after three years, he still dislikes the rain. He hated the memories that were associated with it. Like how it used to soak through his clothes, and the way the wind cut through his body all the way down to the bones. He lost track of all the times his tears mingled with the rain dripping down his cheeks.

Then one day, he woke up to find himself sleeping on a cot in an open room, surrounded by other cots with hybrids on them. One of them had been reading when he woke up and explained everything.

Apparently, he had been found passed out and unresponsive and when they took off his hat, his ears were a dead giveaway. They brought him to the Homeless Center for Hybrids, but they didn’t stick around to see if he was okay. Cold, exhausted, and hungry, Hoseok accepted his fate. This was the life he meant to live.

The Homeless Center for Hybrids not only gave a place for hybrids to stay, but also worked on trying to find new and safe homes for them. It was hard, especially with how so many of them had been mistreated, but the staff only wanted was best for the hybrids. They worked long hours, doing extensive background checks on the new possible owners, and often bought things when the Homeless Center was low on funding.

Hoseok lived there for a year. He watched friends come and go as they got adopted or found ways to support themselves. To take his mind off of his own circumstance, he tended to spend his time over at the Dance Studio that was nearby.

The Dance Studio was extremely inclusive. While they offered classes that required a payment, they waived the fee for those that were unable to afford it, or sometimes even offered the same class but for free if there was a large group of people interested. They didn’t stop there. If the rooms weren’t being used to teach classes, the public was welcomed to come in and use them for their own practice. As long as you shared the same love and passion for dancing and didn’t break anything, it was fine.

That was exactly what Hoseok did. He took the free classes and eventually joined an unofficial street dance group that practiced there. It was the only thing that took his mind off of being homeless.

Then…then Sue came in to the shelter on his twenty first birthday. She was twenty and her parents had recently passed away in the accident. The staff had told him that she was looking for a friend, someone who could help fill up the silence that came with the now empty house. By accident, he saw her. The door opened just as he looked over someone’s shoulder, allowing him to see her for a split second.

She was in the waiting area sitting on one of the green chairs, her head down as she stared at her feet, arms wrapped around her stomach. She had looked so alone and scared, everything he had felt way back when he was twelve years old. It brought out a protective instinct from within that he had obviously pushed down for years.

Hoseok went home with Sue that afternoon. It took a couple months, but once he was comfortable around her, she brought him around to meet her friends and their hybrids. He remembered that day, especially when he met you. The minute he smelled your strawberry cream scent he was hugging you. At the time, you had a boyfriend and he was still adjusting to his new life. Everything was still raw for him back then.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon called out. When the hybrid didn’t answer him, he reached over and shook his shoulder.

Startled from his memories, Hoseok blinked several times in an attempt to refocus his attention. He wasn’t homeless or bouncing around in the Adoption Centers anymore. He most certainly wasn’t abandoned either.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, taking a napkin out of the holder and handing it to Hoseok. “You looked really lost in thought and well… you started crying.”

Silently, Hoseok touched his cheek, surprised to find that his skin was wet with tears. Looking around, he spotted several hybrids uncomfortable shifting in their seats, glancing in his direction every now and then with their ears pulled flat against their heads. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Namjoon just shook his head, this time placing the napkin in Hoseok’s hand. “It’s okay Hoseok. Really, it is. You just need to take a deep breath.”

“I need Strawberry,” Hoseok automatically corrected, his hand stopping on his cheek as he paused.

The wolf hybrid merely raised an eyebrow at his friend, not surprised with how quick he was to fill in your special nickname for what he wanted. “She’s single now.” He quietly said, watching Hoseok for a reaction. “It’s been three years for you Hoseok. Life has settled down for you. I’m not saying that what happened is in the past, three years isn’t that much time, but it was enough for you to be ready for the next chapter of your life. And this time, it involves her.”

Hoseok held the crumpled-up napkin his lap, trying to think of some happy thoughts to relieve the sadness he had unconsciously projected out to everyone else.

“Take it from a wolf hybrid,” Namjoon gently said, a faint smirk appearing. “We believe our mates were created from Destiny. Sue just so happened be going to study abroad for four months, and you get to stay with your best friend, who’s single. The entire scenario screams Destiny.”

Hoseok scoffed at that, but the edges of his mouth were curling up in a smile. Lifting his head, he licked his lips and looked out the window for a moment. It was still early and you wouldn’t be back from classes for at least another two hours. He drank some of his warm coffee as he sat up. “Well,” he asked, “how do I tell her she’s my mate?”

Namjoon smirked, his features looking more wolfish by the second. When their gazes met, the male hybrids shared a knowing grin. “By making her see that you’re the man she’s always wanted.”

[alitheamateur]

The Grind: A Wedding

A/N: I’m unsure of how many parts it will take to cover everything I want include in this most anticipated story of nuptials for our cherished Liv, and Colton. But, I do hope you relish in part one. I love you, all! This process will be written, obviously. But, lots of pictures will be included, creating some sort of a photo album for you, as well. *I do not own any images you see*

Warnings: Language.

June bride. It always sounded so… so, Cosmo. So, cliché, and posh. So typical. And so no me. And oh yet, here we are. The sunny Saturday of June 22nd. Finalizing the last pins to my loose, naturally blonde hair. Colton’s only requests for that day including the blonde. And the down-styling. And the chocolate cake which I think he somehow requested because he knew it was my favorite. 

Things were elegant, and still understated. There was not to be a single sequin, or rhinestone. The only beads permissible were pearls, and that was only if extremely necessary. My boycott against bedazzle made the dress shopping a nightmare, as it seems this generation prefers all the sparkle. But in the hands of Tia, who can weasel and tantrum her way into situation, I found the most perfect cut of silk in Pittsburgh. My mother ground her teeth a little. The back hung low, flowing down the airbrushed bronze of my spine. The lush shine of the material cuddled, and stretched around the swell of my bottom, and a slit climbed my left thigh. I was reluctant about it. My scar from the frightful skiing incident of 2010 was on full display, marked horizontally along the meaty flesh of my upper thigh. 

“If that asshole won’t marry you, damn it, I will, LC.” Tia sniffed as I met her eyes in the full-length reflection of the mirror.

Even on my wedding day, still posing up a good threat to snag me away from my groom.

“You look… you look phenomenal, Liv, dear. I can’t wait for him to see you.” Sweet Beth gracefully dotted away the salty residue from the full tears marking down her cheeks, as she daydreamed about her sons soon nuptials.

I squirmed at the foreshadow of Colton’s inappropriate groans and beady glances once he saw me in my dress. The dress. The one I never would’ve imagined I would try on in a private dressing room, much less parade in front of a crowd full of snapping cameras. But, love gives a girl some bold bravery, it seems. The sensual dip of the snug gown would be worth the raise of conservative brows in attendance once I saw Colt’s intrusive eyes turn black with the burying of his desires.

My mother strapped me into the buckle of my heel while Andrew snapped a few intimate snapshots of the moment on my phone. He was a member of Colton’s groomsman squad, but he’d spent a chunk of the day prepping at my side, and relishing in the bliss to come. 

“Have you heard his vows, Drew? I mean, did he have you like, proof them or something?” I searched my clutch the folded note of worn paper where my own vows were scribbled down, and handed them to Sara for safe keeping until time.

“By proof them, do you mean have I checked to make sure they aren’t loaded with expletives?” He brought over my bouquet as I stood to finalize the approval of my reflection before my solo photos around the archway outside. “Yes, Liv. I read them. And that’s all you’re getting.” He sealed his mouth, and threw away the insinuated key.

I barely recognized the penetrative gazes of the woman staring back at me. My jaw was held at a confident angle, eyes lined thick with tasteful faux lashes, and hips slightly swelled with the weight of womanhood and true love. Colton had changed me in every way that made me better, before I even knew exactly who I thought I wanted to become. His many a kiss, countless moonlight confessions wrapped in the sheet of the bed we shared, and simply the way he watched me take my first morning sip of coffee constituted everything my naïve soul needed to recognize love in its most intimate state. I couldn’t wait to touch him in his suit at the altar. To let him still the trembling of my hands as we exchanged rings, and seal what I already felt with our first kiss as man, and wife.

Sara gently interrupted your thoughts, stuffing a dainty pink handkerchief into your clutches around your bouquet. 

“Because I know you’re going to need this. And, because I know for a fact you’ve forgotten your something borrowed. I used it on my wedding day.” She kissed my cheek.

I wouldn’t have married Colton on this day, the day of his choosing, if Sara couldn’t have been here. I adored my Tia, and Drew, and each other person who was here with me in this adopted home of Pittsbugh. But my wedding day, the only one I know I’ll ever have, I needed my Sara to hold me in a moment just as this one.

A rattling tap echoed from the other side of the heavy oak door, capturing the attention of every eye in the room.

“Liv?”

Colton.

“Liv, baby? You in there?”

My face fell with haunting nerves, and Tia ran for the knob to answer his faint callings from the hallway.

“He can’t see me, Tia. No way! Don’t think of letting him in here.” I ordered.

“Relax, will you? I’m going to step outside with him, okay?”

Tia barely opened the door into a crack large enough for a toddler to squeeze through, and disappeared. I worked my busy hands at the ribbon flowing from the stems of my peony bouquet, scolding myself for even considering the worst reason for his unexpected visit.

I held my breath when she re-entered the overly crowded dressing area, purposely holding back her smile longer than necessary.

“He said he just wanted to hear your voice. That’s it. And only from behind the door, of course.”

Tia, and my mother ushered my prep team toward the reception area to check out the final touches, giving Colt and I a moment of solace, and a deep breath after the bustle of wedding day jitters. When the last person escaped, I wiped the sweat from my palm, and turned the door handle, carefully standing far away from the minimal crack.

Just as my fingers peeled around the door, I felt the familiar heat of his rough-skinned fingers grasping perilously for mine.

“Fuck, I needed this.” He moaned satisfactorily, and my side of the door bounced back towards me as he fell onto it from the opposite side. My touch alone fed his nervous withdraws from being apart for only two days. “I needed you. Just for a minute, at least.”

I played with his fingertips.

“Someone isn’t getting cold feet, are they?”

I could hear the tap of his black dress shoes we had bought last week for the occasion.

“Well, Drew had to talk me off the ledge a couple hours ago.”

I froze, and my bones nearly calcified into fossisl with the stillness his sentence bought over me.

“Woah. Hey, I’m only kiddin’, Livvy. Breath, baby. It was just a joke. Clearly, a poor timed one.”

Colton kissed the solo ring on my finger, staking his claim. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of my ass that easily.”

I wanted to kiss him. Those minty lips, now probably stained with a celebratory shot of whiskey were the only things my consciousness would focus on.

Maybe if we both closed our eyes first, then touched lips for just 2 seconds?

“How dedicated are you to this whole ‘no seeing each other thing’?” I thought out loud, Colton took the question as one directed at him.

“Trust me, angel. I’d give absolutely anything to see you right now. See how amazin’ I know you look, as usual. But, I think we both know you’d instantly regret breakin’ that little tradition you were so persistent about.”

He was right. I had just enough Indiana in me to keep hold of those age-old small-town traditions like not seeing your groom before the ceremony. And first dances, and flower girls.

“But, since I’m here, how about we go ahead and trade letters? I know Drew was going to do the swap for us, but I’ve got mine me if that’s cool with you?”

What a difference time can grace upon us.

I mentioned one evening, months ago, scrolling through websites while doing some planning, how I thought the idea of writing letters to each other was such a touching sentiment. Never expecting another word, much less even an initial response from my stoic, silent man. But, to my much pleasing surprise, Colton simply agreed with an “okay,” never the slightest inkling of protest in his voice. Love had done a number on this bitter, complicated man, too. A hard one. And it suited him mind, body, and soul.

“Yes, but under one condition?” I parted towards to counter to find my own letter addressed to him.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want you to read it until you’re back in your room.”

I slid the sealed envelope into his hand, holding my palm upward for his.

“I love you, Liv. I am so fucking crazy in love with you.” Colton whispered, almost breathlessly.

“I love you, you handsome brute. Now, go. Before I ruin what little makeup I still have left.” 

I didn’t latch the door until his footsteps were no longer detectable, not wanting to miss the sounds of his closeness to me. Seated on the antique velvet of the elegant armchair at the foot of the bed, I delicately tore open the letter.

Liv,

You marvelous creature. You are a necessary electricity that shocks my heart to life every single day that I’m near you. My spirit is broken, and it’s only fucking hope is in your hands. Thank you for taking my hand, and warming me with your irreplaceable light. Naturally, we both know I’m not a verbal man, but it seems in writing you this letter, I may have found my newest, most favorite way to try and express how I feel about you. Nothing about you loving me makes sense, but it’s one mystery wave that I will ride until there is no life left in me with no questions asked. Yours is the only hand I want to hold, and get lost in the swell of life with, laughing, crying, and standing still along the way when need be. This day, the day you foolishly take my name as your own, and vow to be my wife will surely be the most precious day I have lived. Only second to the moment I met you.  I swear, when I’m with you, it’s like the air tastes better, even. You have stroked my ego like a vicious woman in love, and you’ve stomped it out when I needed the harshest of reality checks, just as I deserved. I hope as long as you’ll have me, I can be the solace you need in the most troubling of days. And the strong tower you need when you feel scared or threatened. I’ll be the laugh when you’ve seemed to have misplaced your own, and the tears when yours don’t seem to satisfy whatever grief falls on you. Always, Livvy. It’s you. You and me, against the strongest of odds, we will come out on top. Can’t wait to see you. Soon. You know where to meet me.

I love you.

Colton

Waterproof mascara was a myth, whipped into a lie at the hands of Colton Ritter and his hidden talents with a pen and paper. I read his confessions three times, memorizing it like it was a secret that I was afraid would be torn away within minutes. All along, I’ve been the one in our household staking a claim to literary topics, and standing on my platform as an English major. But this, the handwritten romance of his raw admissions, blew me away, along with every mediocre talent I thought I wielded. Someone I had foolishly often discredited as “simple” or “distant”, had force-fed me to eat the sour swallow of “crow”, penning words that probably belonged alongside the most magical of love letters through fictional history.  In my opinion, anyhow. Not the that object of the affections in said letter would be biased in the least.

. . .

Colton

I obeyed her commands, as I usually do. Happily. And waited until I was seated at the bar in my suite across the grounds from her before opening the letter. I wanted to drag her up the courthouse steps long over 6 months ago, but this place wasn’t so bad. Like it would be, with her taste. I even liked it, actually. I’d never tell Liv though, and have her thinking for a minute that any of this exhausting, unnecessary, wedding shit mattered to me. I would’ve married her in our living room with Mac ordained if I thought she wouldn’t have minded. But, I adore her. More than any should adore another human, truthfully. And I knew this day, with all the people she loves in attanedance, is what her heart needed. So, I shut my fucking mouth, and smile when I’m told like a good husband would. But, I’m not wearing those damn cufflinks. She’ll have to harass me for that one later, and I’ll ask forgiveness. Or, distract her with my mouth the way she likes so much.

I drank down another shot of the aged brown liquor, sucking in its warm after bite between my teeth as I opened the neatly sealed envelope she marked with my name.

 Colt,

The mightiest of men could never steal my love for you. To most, your eyes may be the darkest, most dangerous pools of heartache and pain. But I only see the glow of a man who the world just doesn’t deserve to know. Whatever I have needed you to be, you have truly surpassed any responsibility as the man I love, and my heart shouts a thousand words of gratitude. You kickstarted the first pangs of real love within me, and sometimes I foolishly believe that there aren’t two people in the entire world who share as much love as you and I. The weight of your hand within mine is the only courage I have ever felt, and it somehow seems my most insatiable moments of weakness are both caused, and cured only by you. You’ve respected me as your equal, never pointing out my many flaws as a failed strong woman, and secured my every longing for my destined lover, and companion. I never truly believed in any definition of eternity, until I woke up one morning without you by my side and realized I never wanted to live another day without you in it. You have believed in me, encouraged me, and monumentally coached me. In the ring, and in life, I find that we are a team fit for whatever battle seems to threaten us, destined to come out victoriously hand-in-hand. I know you will only do justice to your newly deemed titles of husband….. and daddy

Surprise, my love.

-L

Did she know what she was saying? Was this some sort of reference to the future that I wasn’t understanding? Was she applying that term as some sort of kinky slang that people use these days? It was like my mind told me I should freeze, and clam up with horrified dread at Liv’s very, very unplanned spilling surprise. But yet, as I read the word again silently to myself, then again, aloud, this time, my pulse never quickened with fear. I didn’t feel like shattering this fucking glass of bourbon against the brink of the bar where I sat alone. I couldn’t even squander up the slightest glimmer of resentment at the birth-control of hers that had apparently faltered.

Daddy. Dad. Pop.

My feelings only went directly into running over all the things I’d want he… or she to call me. And all the ways I’d hear it fall from Liv’s sinfully pink lips when she spoke to the little runt about me. Would she let me use my name if it was a boy? Could I take her to the gym with me unsupervised while Liv was working, even though it was probably no place for a little girl?

The itch my skin felt already from feigning for the feel of her touch, and needing her to fill the void between my embracing arms enlarged to a dull ache now. I woke this morning already drunk, knowing for a fact I hadn’t had a single drop of liquor, simply from the joy of knowing I would finally make an honest woman out of her today. And now, I could feel my heart crawling and leaping and vibrating with gladness like I never imagined humanly possible. For a once worthless fucker like me, especially.

A tear dolloped onto the ink of her swirly handwriting, and my toes curled inside these leather vices around my feet. I hadn’t cried like this since I broke my first knuckle when I was 16. But ever since Liv had waltzed her way into my life, it seemed tears were becoming a familiar foe of mine.

“You read the letter?”

“Shit!” I shook and sniffled, whipping round to see Andrew arming into his suit jacket.

“Yeah. Yeah… I uh, I read it.” Andrew was one of the only friends I really ever allow myself to smile with.

“You are one lucky man, Colton Ritter. You better know that. As if Liv wasn’t enough of a gift, now….”

“You knew? This whole time, you knew?”

He grinned. “Guilty. But you’re not allowed to hit me and stain the tux.”

I stood, dismissing myself from the stool, and carefully folding the fateful paper into my pocket. “How far along is she, Drew? When did she find out?”

Drew shook his head like I knew he would. “You know you need to hear all that from her, man. I can’t ruin that for you guys.”

He was indeed right. I wanted to watch her snub back tears as she told me about the tests I’m sure she had taken behind my obviously inattentive back. I envisioned in my mind the way her eyes would get all glassy and wide when I hugged her belly and told her I loved her more than life, and I would kill for her if it ever came to that.

“Half hour till showtime, Colt. Look alive.”

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, a Creature (Frankenstein) x F!Reader smutfic [18+]

Chapter 2 -> 

Summary: When you slip and fall in the river, an 8-foot tall monster unexpectedly rushes out the woods to rescue you. 

(AU based on the novel, diverging from canon in Chapter 16. Yes, the reader-insert is the descriptionless girl from Chapter 16)

2,300 words

“I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running towards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran from someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour, from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She was senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.”

- Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly

After hours of wandering blindly through the dark forest, you see the glow of a campfire. Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. This must be him.

Gathering your courage, you enter the clearing where a hunched creature with sallow, scarred skin, yellow eyes, and a tangled mane of black hair, dressed in a ragged cloak, sits by the fire. He jumps up, snarling like a wild beast, and you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. The size of his body is greater than any creature you’ve ever seen—taller than the draft horse that works your fields. But the sudden action makes him wince and double over, clutching his shoulder in pain, and he seems as pitiable and human as you first suspected when his strong arms pulled you from the icy rapids. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” you start, forcing a chipper tone. “I worried you might have been long gone by now. I mean, you can’t be from around here, and given your reception, you mustn’t be planning to stay, and—oh, I’m rambling!”

“You are the girl from the river,” he says, voice hoarse and unsteady from lack of use.

“Yes!”

“Why have you come?”

“I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. The river is deadly in the spring with all the snow melt off the mountains. And to apologize for the man who shot you. He’s a fool.”

“Are you not afraid? None who have looked upon this cursed visage have not turned away in scorn. Perhaps you are the fool, to have wandered alone into the woods in search of a wretched demon—have you no fear that I that I might kill you?”

“Well…” you tug nervously at the hem of your dress. “I admit it was a shock to see you coming out of the woods this morning. Actually,” you take a few steps toward him, squinting at the jagged lines crossing his face and hollow eyes; taking in the surreal enormity of his form, which makes you feel like a child standing before him. “Actually, I’m still a bit freaked out. But you’re not a demon. I mean… you saved my life even knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. Why would you kill me after that? You’re obviously a good person.”

His tensed shoulders fall. Then his entire body sinks to his knees at your feet.

“How—how can you speak such kind words?” he whispers feverishly. “Why now, when the last cinder of my hope was extinguished? Dare you fan it back to life, when finally I was ready to steel myself against the cruelty of this world—to resolve my thoughts to hatred and vengeance? How can this stranger show mercy to an abomination, untouched by kindness, abandoned by its creator and scorned by all? THIS CANNOT BE.”

“Hey… it’s OK.” You try to comfort the raging, sobbing creature with a hand on his shoulder (which, even as he kneels, comes nearly to your chest). He flinches at the touch, gasping. Wet eyes meet yours in surprise. “Has no one ever been nice to you before? Surely you have a friend; a parent, at least?”

“None. My father abandoned me the moment I received life, and not one has ever shown mercy—none who has seen this abhorred face.”

Your heart aches for your monstrous rescuer. “Well, I see you,” you say, brushing his long hair aside to cup his cheek.

He meets your gaze, tilting his head incredulously. Your face heats, and you become acutely aware of the intimate placement of your hand on the face of a strange man.

“Here, I brought bandages and healing tinctures, for your wound.” You take off your pack, and gather the supplies while he follows everything you do with quiet curiosity. “May I see it?”

He pulls off his tattered cloak to reveal the bullet wound, exposing more scarred—almost mismatched—skin, taut over sinewy muscle. You try not to look horrified when there is much less blood than you would expect from a bullet wound, and the blood is dark. Unnatural. Instead, you speak gently to him as you clean the area, smoothing on an oily, antiseptic-smelling cream.

At first, every time you dip into the jar to apply more ointment, he instinctively recoils from your hand—his skin twitching beneath it as you rub small circles. By the time you begin wrapping the bandage, he is leaning forward with anticipation, letting out small, contented moans at your touch.

When you are finished, he reaches tentatively for your arm, his long, graceful fingers curling around it. Your wrist is dwarfed by the size of his massive hand, but he is gentle. He looks into your eyes bashfully, asking for permission—is this OK? He doesn’t want to stop touching. Neither do you. Something about this mysterious stranger excites you in a way you’ve never felt before, sending sparks prickling beneath your skin. You scoot closer and trace your fingers down his arm until you are holding his hand. He mimics this, taking your other hand in his. You pull him into an embrace, resting your head on his broad, muscular chest. He smells like hay and oak leaves.

“What shall become of you now?” he mutters. His grip tightens around you. “How am I to return to my life of solitude? Despair will consume me once you have gone.”

“You’re crushing me—” You try to pull away but are unable to move.

“No. Now that I know what it is to bathe in the radiance of human affection, I cannot let it go. You cannot be allowed to leave me.”

“You’re hurting me, stop!”

He releases you at once and as a grateful breath fills your lungs, you catch the blur of motion of a huge, dark form flying away from the firelight. 

A trembling voice emerges from the shadows: “I am sorry. You must go now. It was enough to be shown pity, even once; the memory shall sustain me through the days to come. Now you must go, before I grow more fond and cannot bear to part with you…”

You follow the voice, and find him cowering away from you. He looks so pathetic hunkered on the ground, though even with his head buried in his knees, he’s nearly as tall as you are standing. He is a contradiction: gentle, but full of violent emotion. Needy, desperately lonely, but pushing you away. Horrifying, yet beautiful. He is like no one you have met before in your dull little farm village, and the pounding of your heart fills your ears, chanting: he is the change you’ve been longing for; don’t let him go. 

Grabbing his arm, you turn him toward you, and press your lips hard against his. His entire body freezes.

“Stop acting this way,” you scold as your lips part his. “Look, I get that you don’t have much experience in how people behave with each other, but you can’t just squeeze someone to death to make them stay. But if you can manage not to do that… you don’t have to run away, either. You don’t have to worry about me leaving you, because I don’t want to. I’ll stay. Take me with you?”

“What?” Shock and wonder reflect in his glowing yellow eyes. “N-no, I could not possibly condemn you to this life. To tie your fate to mine would be—”

“My decision. You know what? My life was boring until today. Everyone is always making decisions for me, dictating my entire future, and I don’t want it. I never fit into the boxes they chose for me. But this choice is mine. You can be my escape. I’ll run away with you—let me make my own choices, and you’ll never be alone… deal?”

“Yes.”

You kiss him again. This time, his strong arms pull you against him as he kisses you back, long, passionate, and full of need. You agreed to stay with him. It is all he ever wanted and never thought he could possibly have—someone to be his. He has never been touched by someone who didn’t mean to hurt him, and he is desperate for more of your soft, delicate warmth. Your taste. You open your mouth, and his tongue explores you hungrily. He trails consuming kisses down your neck, sucking and licking at the skin of your collarbone. Each kiss draws a soft moan from your lips.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you open your legs and rub against the growing hardness straining the front of his tattered clothes. 

“What… what is this feeling?” he pants into your ear.

“Oh right, you’ve never… Let me show you.”

You undo his pants, freeing his swollen erection. It’s large—longer and thicker than you have ever seen (not that you had much experience), and dark like his blood. A raised scar runs the length of the underside of his throbbing shaft, but the old wound does not seem to hinder it. 

Kneeling, you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. He lets out a helpless whimper and his cock twitches against your tongue. It is heavy and forces your jaw open wide, but with effort, you are able to take him deeper, inch by inch. Your fingers grip the base and stroke it, though they are unable to curl around his full girth. To fit all of him, you have to open your throat, fighting your gag reflex. 

With anyone else, you don’t think you could manage, eyes watering as he nudges deep, untouched reaches of your throat. But a glance up at his shy eyes watching you in tender astonishment, black lips parted in a breathy moan, and your throat molds around him. You slide down the full length, and begin steadily bobbing. As his noises of pleasure grow, he places his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to take more and more of him until you choke and sputter.

He lets go, face creased with worry. “Are you alright? I’m sorry if I… was that wrong?”

“You’re doing fine. Just be gentle.” Taking a grateful breath, you resume working him. 

He lets you take your time now, afraid to move his hips or guide your head. You bob on him at your own languid pace, savoring the texture of his rough scars and velvety smooth skin. Soon his panting grows fevered and erratic, and you taste his saltiness on your tongue.

Before he can climax in your mouth, you pull away.

“Why did you stop?” he whines, not bothering to disguise his desperation. 

“Let me show you something better.”

You lie back on the warm earth next to the fire and hike up your skirts, instructing him how to position himself on top of you. Taking his wet hardness in your hand, you guide him to your entrance. He rubs it against the opening, slick and dripping with your arousal, but doesn’t seem sure what to do next. You slowly buck your hips upward until he slides inside. He trembles and moans with unbelievable pleasure. You gasp out, wincing as he stretches you wide open.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

“Yes. It’s big, but it feels good.” 

“For me, as well.”

You grab his thighs and lower him down, whining and gasping at the dull burn until he is fully sheathed in your heat. He lets out a long, stuttering sigh that is almost a sob. 

Then you start to grind against him with tiny movements that make warmth surge between your thighs and spread in waves through your body, building pressure until you can no longer stand it.

“Now, go in and out,” you instruct. “Good, just like that.”

His thrusting is slow and uncertain at first, but instinct soon takes over, and he finds a rhythm, striking deeper and harder. He bends above you to plant hot, desperate kisses on your face, down your neck.

“Faster,” you beg, and he obliges. 

His thrusting becomes wild. His chest beads with sweat, and soft moans turn into frenzied grunts turn into animalistic cries that echo through the woods. Then with one last powerful thrust, he breaks, his hot release spilling inside you with desperate convulsions that push him deeper, filling you completely until you come around him, burying a scream in his chest, and he collapses.

For a little while, all is silent, except for his gradually slowing breaths, and the crackle of the campfire. At length, he lifts his head and stares, lips trembling. Tenderly, he strokes your face.

“I need you.”

You clasp his hand in yours, and turn your lips to press a kiss against his palm. “And I you.” There is something about him you can’t explain, but you know he is going to change your destiny. 

“I had never dreamed it possible that I would find an end to my loneliness, or experience such pleasurable sensations. Yet, I must apologize for being overcome by passion and forgetting all decency.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I was overcome, too. You don’t regret it, do you?”

“No,” he says gravely, “but I fear you may. I have ruined you. I am a hideous creature, and you, a benevolent angel on a mission of kindness. In your dedication to balming my wounds, you allowed yourself to be taken advantage of to heal my loneliness. Soon you shall awaken to your senses and take flight, feeling only disgust for what we have done… for what I have done to you. If you knew the truth of my loathsome origin, you would be sickened; I cannot bear the thought of causing you pain…”

You tangle your hand in his dark hair once again, and kiss his gnarled forehead.

“You are a beautiful, sweet, melancholy little soul. I’m going to protect you from now on.”

[missvalerietanner]

The Unseen Soldier | Part 28 | For Now and Always

Subject: Hades & Persephone (aka Aiden & Sophie)

Genre: Southern Gothic retelling

Words: 2,430

Summary: Sophie and Aiden reconnect and discuss the source of her fire.

WARNING: MATURE WARNING FOR SEXUAL CONTENT

Updates every Sunday! Click to read.

“How did you manage this?”

His voice was light with awe as he plucked at her raw skin, tenderly picking away any stray pieces of glass. She was perched on the bathroom counter, her legs dangling so childlike over the edge and her hands folded in her lap as she bounced in place--so eager to move and relearn this place after missing it terribly. And he stood before her, looking over every inch of skin stained red with narrowed eyes and pulling the pieces free with a pair of tweezers and dropping the bloodied fragments into a plastic cup at her side.

“You almost sound impressed.”

“I am. A little.” He glanced at her with a quick smile before refocusing on a rather stubborn piece lodged in her upper arm. “Am I not allowed to be proud of you?”

She bit at her lower lip, both to distract herself from the biting pain of the glass being drawn out of her skin and from the surge of excitement filling her heart at his words. “You’re proud of me?”

He dabbed at the glass-free wound with a damp cloth, cleaning away the remnants of blood and dirt, before facing her with incredulous shock dancing in his vibrantly gray eyes. He bent forward and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek. “Of course I am. What you did was incredibly brave. Reckless, but you certainly left an impression on them. I don’t think they’ll consider you just a little girl after that.”

“You saw what happened?”

He crouched on the edge of the tub and drew her hands into his lap, examining each one for signs of damage and picking out the minute shards when he found them rooted in her soft skin. “Why do you think I was in the woods when you came storming back inside?”

She hadn’t considered it; she had been so relieved to be back. A shrug became her only answer.

When he finished checking over her hands, he pressed a kiss to each palm before turning his attention to her legs. With granted permission from her in the form of a quick nod that had her cheeks burning red, he pushed her skirt up, and she held it in place, clutching its folds tight between her legs while he continued his search for any lingering glass.

“You must have landed hard when you entered the forest because I felt the impact like a punch to the stomach, and I knew it was you. I rounded up the dogs and went looking, following some blind impulse just like I did that first night you were here.” He cupped the back of her calves with his hands and leaned his head back to face her. “Then I saw you, a smoldering smear of fire and ash streaking through the trees, running desperate and untamed.” He snorted a laugh and withdrew his hands. “It was all I could do to keep up with you, you were so fast.”

“I don’t know what came over me. I just knew I was tired of--” She reached up and lifted some of her hair into her hands, stroking the healthy ends that showed no sign of their former flaming glory. “Tired of hiding.”

He stood and lifted her chin, dragging her eyes to his. “You were beautiful with your hair of fire.”

An easy smile of relief slid across her lips. “H--how did I do that?”

“Kind souls form the trees, waiting to be reborn. Restless or angry souls who feel they were wronged in their lives become Harvesters and spend eternity dragging others down. But I didn’t tell you about the third kind, the Voids.”

Her eyes widened. “What are they?”  

“The wicked souls. The doomed souls. The ones who spend their lives preying on others, taking and taking until they drain all that they can. They’re too villainous to ever be granted another chance at life, and they’re too dangerous to be chained to this forest as Harvesters.”

She swallowed hard and asked the single question in her mind, even as she told herself she didn’t really want to know. It was too late for that. This was her home, the life she had chosen, and she needed to know and understand all of it, especially the hideous parts.

“Where are they?”

“Below us. Beneath the reaching roots of the oaks and miles beneath our feet is where the Hollow rests, and within, the Voids wait.” He tucked a strand of her vibrant orange hair behind her ear. “The fire you manipulated: you drew it from there. Your power is theirs.”

“So I--I’m… like them? Evil and wicked?”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Not at all, darlin’. But you are unbreakable and strong--strong enough to rule them.”

She snapped her head back and met his eyes, disbelief spinning in her own.

“To draw their power to the surface from so far below, to ignite your own hair and let their power engulf your entire body and barely feel it--there’s only one reason you would be able to do that.” He stepped back from the counter and offered a hand in helping her down. “You’re their rightful queen.”

She accepted his hand and slid off the counter with a bounce. “But I thought I belonged here? With you in the forest?”

“You do, darlin’, but you’re connected to the Hollow. You feed off of its power. That place means nothing to me, and the Voids--they are vile creatures who will strike at anything that invades their world. But you can keep them at bay.”

“What have you done with them up until now?”

He shrugged. “Avoided them mostly. I only went to the Hollow when a new soul needed to be carted to its depths.”

She nibbled at her lower lip and stared into his stirring gray eyes. “Will you take me there?”

He snorted a laugh, a wonderfully joyful sound she had missed. “Barely back for two hours, and already you’re seeking more?” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her skin. “Of course I’ll take you there, darlin’, but maybe you should enjoy a few hours of peace first.”

She giggled, tickled by his caress. But the jitter in her nerves didn’t leave. “Is it really so bad there?”

A solemn frown chased all the light from his eyes. “The Hollow is a nasty place, but we will face it together if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She smiled wide and clutched her hands before her heart. “I want all of this place if I can have it.”

“Darlin’, it was yours the minute you stepped inside.”

She tipped her head back to look into his eyes and closed the gap between them to rest her hands against his chest. “I’d like all of you as well if you’re willing.”

He chuckled and swept a hand through her orange tangles to grasp the back of her neck and bend down to kiss her. Withdrawing with a pleased sigh, he arched his lips into a smirk. “I’m all yours. For now and always.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she wound her arms around his neck and lifted her body to his and sealed her mouth against his. He swept his arm under her legs and lifted her swiftly from the ground. Cradling her close, he carried her from the bathroom to his bedroom, like all those nights before she was taken from him. The fireplace inside his room was alive with blinding red flames that cast the room in a crimson glow flickering for balance against the rich shadows clinging to the walls and the floor.

Setting her to her feet, he stripped her of her clothes slowly, letting each piece of soft fabric slip from his fingers and cascade to the floor in silence. When her body was bare and exposed to the flickering orange light of the fire, she glowed like a goddess. The yellow light encircled her like a hug, and her orange hair burned as brilliantly as it had during her fiery return to the forest. And her stunning brown eyes reflected the heat of his heart back at him.

With a smile, he guided her onto the bed with one arm supporting her waist while the other balanced his own weight against the surrendering softness of the mattress. She clung to his shoulders, holding her bare body to his and thanking the fire for masking the redness in her face. Skin against skin, she had never before been this open and vulnerable with anyone, and the feel of his hard, calloused body against her unmarred skin sent bolts of electricity through her nerves with each teasing skift.

Laying her down, he kissed her again and again, simple caresses that were as soft as a feather. Then he descended lower, drinking in her body with slow kisses peppered over her flesh until he reached low enough to draw a gasp from her lips and elicit a shiver from the depths of her bones. Her entire body tensed, but soft, sweeping strokes from his hands down her arms helped her relax.

He caressed her depths first with his fingers then his mouth. Her own mouth fell open in an eternal gasp; her throat ran dry in the passing moments as her mind became consumed with the feel of him--his touch, his hot breath filling her. He made her feel impossible things, sensations she never before knew could be so overwhelming, so enthralling.

She held onto him; one hand was latched onto his back, and with each movement, she felt his shoulder blade shift and contract beneath her palm, and her other hand gripped the edge of the mattress as if the pleasure he bestowed was enough to lift her from gravity and send them into their own orbit.

He stopped his teasing and slid up her body, letting every part of him touch every part of her, and he kissed her. His mouth was more aggressive now, far more passionate, and she released the mattress so that her hands could join together at his neck. Her fingers tangled into the lengths of his hair as she kissed him back, tasting a flavor on his lips she couldn’t place.

Her head was spinning, and her mind was dizzy. She kept her eyes focused on the ceiling of his room, letting the rich, dark brown planks of wood root her in the world. He bowed his head against her shoulder and whispered incoherent pleas and knee-weakening apologizes she couldn’t decipher.

He pushed his hips against hers, nudging her legs apart without resistance, and she felt an intense pressure against her pelvis as he joined himself to her. Instincts snapped her legs shut, but her thighs collided with his waist instead. A low whimper left her parted lips as hot tears sprang from her eyes. The pressure swelled, stalling her heart and seizing her lungs until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

She retracted her hands from his neck and instead slid them around his back. Her palms slid against his slick flesh until she held onto his upper arms, clinging to the muscles that held him upright as he moved deeper into her.

The pressure swelled to a breaking point, and he stilled inside her. She shut her eyes, forcing more tears down her cheeks as she clenched her jaw against the pain. He bent down and kissed her cheeks, drying her tears and leaving their empty trails behind. He snaked one arm under her back and lifted her body to him, wishing he could so effortlessly pull the agony from her body before she endured it.

He covered her lips in another kiss and pressed forward, stealing the last bit of her innocence that he could claim. Her body stiffened in his arms as the pain rushed through her limbs, but then she melted, relaxing as a long sigh left her throat.

Her eyes stayed closed, and he hated that. But he wouldn’t force her to do anything more than what her own mind told her she needed. He set her body back down on the mattress and moved inside her, slowly shifting in and out until the painful grimace left her face, replaced by something closer to enjoyment. Her lips relaxed into a calm line, and he took that as the best he was going to get, even though her brown remained pinched, concentrating. And he would let that be enough.

He moved slow until he couldn’t bear to do so any longer, until the feel of their unity begged him for more than he was giving. He held her close as he pushed them to their ends, and his release echoed in a grunt that resounded off the walls, mixing at last with a sigh from her.

Sliding out of her, he climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment to wash away the smears of her blood that stained him. When he returned to the bed, she had fallen onto her side and wound her arms around her legs, holding them to her chest. Even in the flickering firelight, he saw the red stain of their union staring back at him from the sheets, and he promised himself he would make everything better tomorrow.

For now, he lifted the covers over her body, shielding her nudity from the cold that would settle into the room at the fire’s death. He slid into bed at her back, and she rolled her body into his, burying her face in his chest. Thankful for her acceptance, he released a relieved breath that had been choking his lungs, unaware he had been holding his breath since he left her.

Beneath the sheets, he slid his arms around her and hugged her close, letting skin against skin be the promise that he was here and always would be. He bushed a tender kiss across her exposed shoulder peeking through the blankets then settled his head onto his pillow amongst a mass of her wild orange hair.

With a deep inhale, he drew in a lungful of her sweet scent. She smelled of every flower and every fruit all at once: fresh and clean with hints of lemon and grass even as the heat and roasting wood from the fire dared to compete with her. She was intoxicating, and as he shuttered his eyes to find sleep, he admitted that he would always want more of her, no matter how full his lungs became.

[randomabiling]

The First Christmas

Another protracted, heavy sigh left the confines of her lips before the delicate edge of her teacup rose. The tepid breakfast blend slipped into her mouth, causing her to grimace. Her bones shuttered, the draft in the room compounded by disappointment in the tea’s temperature. Her fingertips were cold around the flowered porcelain, something she couldn’t ever remember happening before, and she turned her attention to the fireplace. The fading embers taunted with their flickers and pops, becoming more of a memory of fire as the heat died. Where was Simpson to check on her? Violet sighed again. It seemed that was all she did lately, sit around and expel the stale and disgusted air that lay trapped behind her breastbone.

Placing the teacup down, Violet shifted on her sofa, angling her face toward the window. The landscape had been transformed into a tundra with the last storm, looking as unhappy and formidable as she felt. The clock on the mantle ticked, catching her attention. Half past four. It had been three days since she’d received an invitation to Downton for dinner and one day, three hours since any of them had checked in on her.

Violet poked at a scone left on her tray. It seemed to crumble at her touch and she grumbled under her breath, thinking how incompetent Mrs Wallace was, nothing like the staff she had cultivated at Downton. Such a shame. She’d have to speak to Robert about hiring another cook for the Dower House. As soon as she thought it, the idea turned sour in Violet's mind. To have to ask permission to hire one’s staff...was there anything more humiliating?

The truth of her existence still shocked her anew each morning, as she stretched from sleep and opened her eyes to the peeling ceiling of the Dower House master bedroom. She didn’t think of it belonging to her, that specification still reserved for the Princess Amelia room, which had seen the last thirty years of her life unfold, marking the memories in its faded gold wall coverings. This new room, which she’d occupied for just over three months now, was as foreign and cold to her as any she’d stayed in as a guest. Violet couldn’t quite reconcile that she was now the dowager, making the Dower House her home.

She’d always known it would happen of course, her eventual ouster from the day-to-day life at Downton, regulated to the role of bystander while her son and his wife took their place upon her husband’s passing. Knowing it, however, had been like knowing the inevitability of her own death; it was a vague probability that she had never really believed would befall her person. And when it had, when the dirt had grown firm over Patrick’s grave and the half way mark of full morning had passed, and Robert had gently informed her that the renovation of the Dower House was complete, still Violet hadn’t really quite come to terms with her fate. Like a prisoner staring down her execution, Violet had expected a last minute stay, a swift reversal of her punishment and the reinstatement of her life as she’d known it.

That hadn’t happened, of course, and each day’s awakening reiterated what she couldn’t quite allow herself to believe: that she was no longer in charge.

The timid squeak of the door stirred Violet from her pensive mood and she looked up to see Carson hanging back behind Simpson. Violet’s back snapped straight.

“Mr. Carson, your ladyship,” Simpson announced dully and Violet had to purposefully refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” Violet answered. Immediately, she took note of the way Carson took a tentative step around Simpson, of how white his knuckles were around the bowler hat he held firmly in front of him.

Carson waited, shifting from foot to foot, until Simpson took the hint and slinked out of the drawing room, leaving them alone. Even then, Carson took a moment too long, his mouth moving awkwardly as though chewing the lumpy words that wouldn’t come forth.

“Carson,” Violet prodded. “Is there something you came to tell me?”

His bushy eyebrows rose at her words before diving down, further deepening the worried wrinkles on his forehead and practically touching one another. He squeezed the hat in his hand harder.

“Well, milady, that is to say that, you see…” Violet waited, a small splinter of anxiety jabbing into her ribs. The rest of Carson’s words came out in a rush. “You see, her Ladyship is decorating the Christmas tree, on her own...with the young ladies. On a ladder and all! I’m concerned for the impression it will make on the junior staff.”

The abused hat in Carson’s hands was pulled taught until it resembled a woolen dishcloth. Violet wondered if it would ever recover its shape after such a wringing. She swallowed down the fit of laughter that threatened to burst from her chest. Dear Carson, Violet could always count on him to be more shocked by lapses in protocole than Queen Victoria herself. She stifled the merry impulse, seeing the torment it cost him to come to her, already he was feeling loyalty to his new chatelaine. Violet chose to reply with a simple nod before ringing for Simpson to fetch her coat.

Choosing to walk the path to Downton rather than drive back with the butler, Violet let the fresh December air invigorate her. Upon contemplating Carson’s confession, it was right of him to come to her. The idea of the current Countess of Grantham perched up high and placing ornaments on the tree, seemed almost indecent. The housemaids had always accomplished the task during Violet’s time as Countess. It was preposterous. Leave it to the American to muck up as simple a project as Christmas decorating. Violet shuddered to imagine the arrangements that Cora would have commissioned for the table tops and the mantels.

By the time Violet reached the massive doors to Downton, any comedy she’d found in Carson’s reaction had disappeared, her earlier irritation exacerbated. Violet’s agitated breath hit the chilled air producing a cloudy plume before she pushed on the oak doors and nudged her way in. She noticed the heat first, the density of it instantly warming her chapped face and the numb tips of her fingers. It was the kind of warmth you could taste and Violet marveled that the salon could be brought to such a temperature, with its endless walls and vaulted ceiling. It had never felt so warm during her tenure. Violet tsked at the waste, imaging an entire forest worth of trees disintegrating in the hearths of Downton so that Cora could be kept comfortable. The child was fragile. She’d warned Robert in those early days of their courtship, Cora was not of hearty stock.

Their laughter could be heard before she could see their faces; Cora’s easy giggles, Robert’s deeper chuckle, and then the girls, the high, bell tones of her granddaughters as their happiness rung through the house. Something about the sound of it, of all four of them laughing together tugged hard at her heart. Violet fought to catch her breath, her corset suddenly feeling too tight.

Rounding the corner, she saw them. Mary held a delicate ornament, and though the laughter still played over her lips, her eyes were narrowed in concentration, her hands confident as she lifted the glass bauble and placed it just so on one of the tree’s lower limbs. Edith fidgeted around, the young toddler clearly too excited to settle down. She dashed between Mary and her mother and then to Robert and Violet felt herself briefly get caught up in the child’s wonder. Cora stood atop a low stool, reaching to the higher branches as Robert stayed by her side, his hand held an inch shy of her back, ready to steady her, should she waiver. The tableau was as sentimental and perfect as any Christmas postcard. How happy they looked, the four of them lit up and twinkling like the lights on the tree. Violet took a step back.

“Granny!” Edith shrieked in delight.

Mary’s head snapped up. Cora turned so suddenly she teetered on her ladder. Robert caught her firmly around the waist and held her a moment as the young woman regained her balance before dropping his hands quickly. The happy glow in the room seemed to dull, like someone turning the key on a gas lamp cutting off the fuel. Violet felt herself shrink a little, a reaction that was strange to her usual bulldog self-assurance. Quickly recovering, Violet straightened, a tight smile hurting her face.

Robert spoke first, coming to her and placing a formal peck upon her cheek. “Hello Mama, what a pleasant surprise.”

She couldn’t help herself, the words out before she could try them in her mind. “Well, if I waited for an invitation-”.

Cora deflated further, all signs of pink cheeked joy gone as she gingerly stepped down off of the ladder. Violet opened her mouth to say something, anything that would restore the scene she had unwittingly changed. That had been so very happy, so relaxed and natural. Remorse churned in her belly, a bitter knowledge that she had broken their innocent revelry, that what Robert and Cora presented was the facade they thought she preferred. Even little Mary was learning to reserve her true emotions in her presence.

“Granny! Here!” Violet looked down at Edith, no higher than her knee.

The sweet child held up an ornament. Violet stared at it too long.

“Put it on the tree!” Edith explained with childlike exasperation.

Mary snickered behind her hand as Violet still did not move. Self-consciousness rose up the back of her neck making the room too warm and she carefully plucked the glass angel out of Edith’s chubby fingers. It glittered in the low light. Violet chose an empty branch and wiggled the string over the spiky needles. Releasing the decoration, it twirled revolution or two before settling into its spot. Violet stepped back, an odd bloom of satisfaction filling her chest. She looked up to see Robert had placed his hand at the base of Cora’s back. They both smiled widely at her.

“Well, I’ll leave you all to it.” Violet’s throat was tight, roughing up the words she spoke.

Cora placed a tentative hand on Violet’s arm. “You don’t have to go, Mama.”

Violet nodded her head. “But you see my dear, I do. Mrs Wallace is expecting me for dinner soon, and you know how a cook feels when you’re late to meal time. No, you go ahead and finish your decorating.”

“We can send someone down, tell Mrs Wallace your plan has changed. Stay for dinner, Mama.” Robert said.

“I’m sorry Robert, I simply cannot.” Violet insisted.

Robert shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

Violet received their kisses goodbye and then turned to leave. She’d only taken two steps before the low chatter gained volume once again, Mary and Edith’s voices becoming heady and bubbly. Just like that, her interruption was forgotten as the family of four resumed their activity. Violet rushed through the front door and back out into the cold, swiping hastily at the tear that snuck down her cheek.