#complicated feelings

[itsonlytext]

Quiet Days

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

no warnings, just some complicated feelings and overall a very queer scene >1000 words.

(if it better suits you, here's the ao3 link to this one-shot.)

Sherlock had imagined it more than he was (ever) willing to admit:

The heat of their skin blending into sighs, the tugs, the way their names would roll off of each other’s tongues and melt onto their skin, sink into their core and erupt a blinding light - so hot and demanding that they wouldn’t care about the amenities of keeping each other hidden until night, so deliciously shameless that they would proudly bask in the afternoon sunlight until the heat of their bodies were indefinitely hotter than the sun itself.

He gazed at the sight in front of him - John, (Oh God, John.) ever so content in his patterned armchair, gazing at the bright screen of his laptop with tired eyes. It was a sight he was used to seeing whenever a quiet day doomed Baker Street and the detective would leave the front steps of his mind palace and open his eyes with an arduous sigh. John would always be there, always so calm, always sitting with his laptop open, feet (slightly) stretched out, arms (sometimes) crossed over his chest. Sherlock always wondered what he was looking at, reading, watching. Whatever it was, whatever was drawing John’s eyes away from him, he hated it.

Sherlock’s ears pricked with a thought.

Experiment: Record himself working - simply working over a case in the lab at St. Bart’s hospital for exactly ninety minutes and in silence. Then, write an entire dissertation about himself - anatomical habits, childhood events and/ trauma accompanying the result of an in-depth MRI of his own brain (something to elicit interest in the doctor if it hasn’t been drawn already). When John isn’t paying attention (eating, watching Jeremy Kyle, sleeping, on an unsuccessful date), he will upload the video and dissertation onto John’s laptop. That way, no matter if John has decided he will spend his quiet day on his laptop, he will still be focused on Sherlock - still looking, reading, watching - honouring him with the attention he wants. (Needs.)

Reminder: Make sure to inform Molly that he will, at some point, require a camera and the lab.

For now, Sherlock sat quietly the way he always did on quiet days.

He was sure that he never believed in quiet days. If he did, he hated them. Or he once hated them. Over time, as he allowed the quiet to hold him down, force him to stop moving and sink deep into his bones, Sherlock realised that perhaps he could allow them to pass every now and then without sparking a fuss whenever they did.

Quiet days, Sherlock thought to himself as John shuffled in his seat, his eyes still glued to his laptop (and not the detective), how pitiful they could be.

The term was planted by Mrs Hudson, who would climb up the stairs with a knowing smile and a tray of fresh tea as she whispered, ‘it’s awfully quiet today,’ or ‘today’s going to be nice and quiet, I can tell’. It was then germinated by John, who always agreed with her as he’d gratefully pick up a biscuit from her tray and reply, ‘yes, I think so, couldn’t come sooner,’ or ‘definitely a quiet day today, Mrs Hudson’.

Sherlock somehow watered it without wanting to - he always knuckled under John, even whilst simultaneously convincing himself it was the other way around. At some point (he didn’t know when), he had also started to refer to these days as ‘quiet days’.

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

John (oh God, John).

When would he realise that he was being stared (gazed) at?

It was all Sherlock ever did on quiet days. It was all he knew to do, eventually morphing into instinct whenever quiet would bless Baker Street. He knew it was the result of conditioning, a simple failure on his part - to pair one with the other. John, quiet days. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. (Perhaps not so much a failure.)

John hadn’t noticed the staring (admiring), not even as he took a sip of Mrs Hudson’s tea or a bite from an overly sweet biscuit.

Update ongoing experiment: Now the thirty-second instance that his staring (treasuring) has gone unnoticed by John. When would he realise? Sherlock suspects in due time, perhaps when the next quiet day comes. (False hope - another seed unconsciously watered due to John.)

The detective, having barely moved since the morning, tucked that ongoing experiment in the deep confines of his mind palace - now archived, dormant, always ticking.

He went back to adoring John (oh God, John).

John - a much simpler word, much easier to accept than the existence of a quiet day. Quiet day - two extra and redundant syllables, much more difficult to knuckle under. But without having tolerated its existence or going the full ridiculous length of three syllables, Sherlock never would have discovered John, he knew that.

John (oh God, John).

He wouldn’t mind letting that syllable slip out of his mouth every now and then.

“John.”

Sherlock savoured the way his head snapped up with a hum, so quick to respond to the deep, baritone voice that called him.

He cleared his throat and shuffled. “Yeah?”

“Quiet day,” Sherlock replied plainly, his eyes gazing at the desk and wandering over the tea and food Mrs Hudson had left for them that morning.

John watched him for a moment, a gentle smile tugging his lips as he watched the detective’s deeply contemplative face and wondered what he was thinking about.

[tanema123]

Who wants to read my first ever zestmilla fanfic?

Summary:

Carmilla was sitting in her office chair, facing the large window, observing the Pentagram buildings. A bottle of alcohol was in her hand and three more scattered across the table. She took a long swing of it, feeling it slip past her lips and through her throat. As she lowered the bottle the burning liquor left a bad taste in her mouth, but it made things so... So much more simpler.

[keydekyie]

I'm 30 today 🎉

[thewritecousins]

[ponochino]

Do I hate Ben? Yes.

Did I cry for him when the rainbow tide/path washed right up to him and he still walked away? Also yes.

Those feelings can coexist.

[madmanwonder]

[Ask, Funny Bad Flirt] Jaune to Hippolyta when he visits her at her place.

"Did you order a new boyfriend. Becuase I am here~!" Grinned the lovable dork who held a bouquet of flowers toward the older Niko woman.

'God...fucking...damnit he's cute!' Hippolyta thought barely contained the urge to squee and hugged the dork like a big teddy bear.

[battlegroundofdreams]

4

The meeting in Krios' office doesn't go exactly as planned....

An hour later, and after both getting cleaned up after training, Morpheus and Melinoe headed up to Krios’ office.  Both were dressed fully in black and looked like a matching pair, and in time they would be; however, at the moment, Morpheus was still trying to figure out the enigma that was the woman walking next to him.  To be called to the office of the Prime, to have a messenger treat her as if she was an officer in the corps, the name the messenger had called her, there were questions that he wanted answers to, and if they didn’t come in the Krios’ office, he’d find out later.

There was no wait once they had arrived at the office. Krios’ assistant had been waiting for them and showed them in immediately.  The auburn haired Prime had his back to them when they entered, but his posture left no donut that he was unhappy.  Surely soon he would be letting them both know his thoughts on the matter that had called them up.

“Andromeda will be joining us.”  The Prime’s deep voice echoed around his office as they took seats across from his desk.  He still had not turned from the window.  He was expecting problems with Morpheus, and was preparing to reign in his temper to keep from losing one of his best agents.  It was no secret that the agent didn’t want a partner, and now to have a case so soon after being assigned, it was sure to cause issues.

Morpheus and Melinoe looked at one another.  Not only was the Prime meeting with them but also the Adjutrix, even with what was in the scroll, it didn’t seem a serious enough situation to require that.  For the first time since she received the scroll, Melinoe became nervous.  Not killing a nightmare on the first attempt was hardly a rare occurrence, let alone when there had been more than one and she had been alone.  Morpheus couldn’t miss the trepidation he now saw in her eyes.  

“I apologize for my delay,” Andromeda entered the office and closed the door.  There was little doubt in either her or Krios’ mind that this would get loud and messy.  Morpheus was known for his temper just about as much as his ego.

“EMA (eema) Melinoe, to be honest we're not sure that this nightmare is part of that team you took on, but if not then he's duplicating their methods.” Krios turned from the window, his heavily tattooed forearms crossed over his broad chest.  They were a testament to the battles he had fought as an agent.  “We've had two more agents almost taken out by him. They're not getting even close to him.  This is why we need you.”

Now what the messenger had said made sense to Morpheus.  He'd pronounced the acronym wrong, Melinoe was an Elite Master Assassin.  That was a rank he hadn't even achieved.  It added to his respect for her, but also brought up new questions. 

“Agent Morpheus and I will be ready tomorrow to start tracking, sir.” Melinoe answered, still not sure why they had been called up to the office for a routine thing.  “We spent today practicing and training, I have no doubt we'll make a good team.  His reputation, as I'm sure you know, is well earned.” She turned her head slightly towards Morpheus and gave him a small smile.  She was honest . 

“EMA Melinoe, we are not worried about your abilities.  We want to ensure we do not have another agent down to injuries that could be avoided if one were to use caution, patience, and check their ego at the door.” Andromeda was frank, and the look she cast towards Morpheus made her disdain clear.  Now everyone knew why they were there, and none looked happy about it.

“I can assure you..” Melinoe started trying to head off the fight she could almost feel coming.  As Andromeda has spoken, Morpheus has straightened and his hands had balled to fists.  She couldn’t blame him, the Adjutrix hadn't even attempted to be delicate . 

“You're worried about ME getting her injured or killed?  Come out and say it if you have the balls.” Morpheus interrupted.  “You heard my partner, we function well together and be fine. Can you both fuck off now?”

“Until she steps on your toes or says something you don't like, right Morpheus?” Now Krios was going to take him head on.  “Then what? You'll leave her in the dream alone? Tell her to fuck off now? Make her carry your weight? I need both of you back, and I don't care if your ego has to be sacrificed for it.” He leaned over the desk after Morpheus, his hands going flat on it.  His muscles could be seen flexing under his dress shirt. Obviously the Prime was ready for a fight.

Unfortunately Morpheus wasn’t looking to disappoint, “you really think that I would do that?”  He was now on his feet, quickly followed by Melinoe who was going to try to keep the two powerful men from destroying each other and the office.

“Check my ego and temper, but I'm not the only one with either of those, am I?  I get it, she's higher rank, but I have earned respect.” He looked between Krios and Andromeda, obviously enraged.  “I would never abandon another agent, or endanger them, because of my ego.  I know where to find Mel if I have a score to settle.”

“Morpheus, I don't think that's what they..” once more Melinoe started trying to defuse the situation. 

“No, he understood me.” Andromeda cut her off this time. “You're reckless, Morpheus.  You take risks. Only now it won't be just you.  You'll have one of the best with you and…”

“And who is another of those bests? ME! So I'm pretty damn sure we have this…” Morpheus took a step towards Andromeda, Melinoe gently touching his arm to try and calm him.

“AGENT MORPHEUS!” Krios’ hands slammed down on his desk to get everyone's attention.  “You will respect the chain of command in my office or…”

“Or what? You'll take me off the case and send Mel in with someone inferior?  You are actually standing there and threatening me?”

Melinoe felt like she was watching the beginning of another World War and she had no interest in it.  “Sir, I trust Morpheus and that should be enough.  No one is going to be left behind or not protected.  I think we all need to think about what we're saying.  Morpheus is right, you're both being insulting to his abilities.”

Her hand tightened on Morpheus’ arm.  She didn't want a full on fight.  If she was going to have to go back up against one of those nightmares, she wanted him as her backup. “Morpheus, it's fine.  Don't take their bait.” She kept her voice low and hoped they'd built enough of a report that he'd listen . 

“You should listen to your partner Morpheus. It seems at least one of you…” Andromeda started, before being cut off.

“If she's so fucking perfect, what do you need me for? Clean up duty? Someone to take the blame if it goes sideways?” Morpheus didn't ever let her get started before raging.  “I've never had to clean up someone’s messes before and I'm not liking it now. It’s not my fault your apparent darling isn’t capable of doing it on her own and needs someone to come in and save it for her.  People don’t die on my watch, but I guess now I have to make sure they don’t die on hers too.  What exactly am I getting out of this whole arrangement?”

“ENOUGH!!”  Now it was Melinoe that had everyone’s attention, and none looked sure what she was going to say.  

“Fine, you don't want to, how'd you say it? Clean up my mess?  Fine. I'll figure it out myself, and do it without you.  I didn't ask for your help, or to be your partner in the first place.  Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go prepare for tomorrow.  I’m sure Krios and Andromeda can find something to keep you busy while I work.”  She gave no one a chance to answer, she strode from the room, slamming the door behind her so hard it rattled.

For a moment no one left in the office moved.   Up until then, Melinoe had been the most calm in the room.   It was clear she was now, however, seriously pissed.  Krios and Andromeda had never seen her anywhere near that emotional regarding anything, let alone that enraged.  It was clear that the meeting had gone in a direction that they had not anticipated and now they might have created a problem that could not be rectified easily.

“If anything happens to her either fighting that nightmare or afterwards, your career is over.” Krios said firmly, but flatly. “I will completely decimate your life outside of the agency. You will pray for death.  Your skill has got you this far, Morpheus, but you've reached the end of what it can do for you.  We gave you the one agent who we believed could work with you, and you’ve not even lasted a day.  You’d better hope you can fix this.  Now, GET.OUT. of my office.”

[justbreakonme]

Whumpee who knows it’s messed up, it’s toxic and not right and logically they shouldn’t feel like this but sometimes…they miss the whumper.

Maybe they weren’t always that bad. Maybe something happened, a blow to the head in just the wrong place, the introduction of a drug or new person, a shift in the fundamentals of their personality. And now, even though they know that the person they loved and loved them is essentially gone, they can’t help looking for them within the monster wearing their face.

Or maybe they weren’t bad all the time. Maybe some days they were sweet, they were gentle. They might have even apologized, promised to do better with flowers and teddy bears and heart shaped boxes. Maybe the sword it was for whumpees own good, that they did the things they did out of love…

Maybe whumper wasn’t nice, maybe they were just predictable, and the caretaker isn’t. It’s strange and foreign to be treated as a person, as a friend. Behaviors that used to bring comfort no longer do, because caretaker sees them as they are.

Or maybe whumper was a family member, a parent or sibling, and Whumpee can’t stop looking for what was supposed to be there. Like when you have a tooth pulled, and your tongue always finds the empty gap.

They don’t tell anyone they feel this way. After all, how could they? Who would understand? They don’t even understand themself.

[whileyouwait-dm]

1

So it begins...

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.  Miriana had been crossing the street with a group of people one minute and the next she was in a strange dark forest.  Obviously she was at least unconscious and this was some kind of dream; at least that was what she was hoping.  The alternative was that she was dead.  Were that the case, then where exactly she was confounded her.  This certainly did not resemble any description of Heaven that she had read of, but it didn’t exactly resemble Hell either.  She hadn’t read up on all mythologies though, but she doubted Hell as supposed to look like a dense forest with lush vegetation.  So, exactly what happened and where was she?  Two questions that she hoped would be answered by someone in at least some kind of decent timeframe.

Miriana turned in a circle, but saw no path or anything that gave a clear direction out of the clearing that she was in.  There was just this jagged oval of a clearing where the underbrush was lower, then it grew higher again and the trees were closer together.  The canopy was still lush and green, keeping everything below in shade and relative darkness.  There were no sounds of birds or active wildlife that she could ascertain, which seemed odd for the middle of the day, but she wasn’t any kind of wildlife or forest expert.  Trying to decide which way to go was not easy, since she had no idea where she was and there were no ambient noises to guide her.

Finally, she just picked a direction and headed into the thicker underbrush and darker canopy cover.  There was no better or worse option, none of them seemed any different than the other at this point since there were no indicators of where she would find someone else.  Hopefully when she did find someone else, they’d be able to tell her where she was and how she got them from the middle of a busy intersection with no memory of it.  She’d never been camping or hiking, so this definitely wasn’t one of her friends playing some messed up kind of a prank, they’d know better than to drop her city girl ass out in the middle of the wilderness. Fending for herself meant using the microwave to heat up leftovers, not making her way through the wilderness.

****

“SIRE!”  A messenger came running into Djall’s  office.  He was out of breath and flushed, looking almost on the verge of panic.  This could mean nothing good for the ruler of the underworld, so there went his afternoon. “Yes?  What is it?”  He asked, leaning back in his chair.  Hopefully it wasn’t something too bad and he could get back to organizing the newest batch of arrivals according to what demon would be overseeing them.

“There was a problem with the afterlife routing algorithm and we’ve received…………a mistake.”  The color seemed to drain from the demon’s face.

“A mistake?” Djall’s dark eyes narrowed at the demon, who was nodding and simultaneously looking like he wanted to become one with the wall behind him.  “What kind of mistake?”  His head cantered to one side as he tried to figure out how they could receive any kind of mistake.  This was Hell.  Mistakes didn’t happen in Hell and you didn’t end up in Hell by mistake.  You earned your way here.

“Sir, the algorithm sent a murderer to Paradise, and an innocent human girl here.  She just landed in the forest of beasts.  She was supposed to go the other way.  There are a few beings arguing over whose fault it is, but we need to find her before the beasts do.  She’s done nothing wrong to be here, Sire.”  The demon’s back was pressed against the wall and he was truly terrified that his liege was going to cause him great pain from the look of displeasure currently upon his face.

“I have a completely innocent female IN THE FOREST OF BEASTS?!” Djall almost roared at the information.  Of all of the places for her to land, the one that was the most violent and vicious.  Of course, because having her land someplace “safe” in Hell would be to easy when the pompous pricks upstairs fucked up.  Instead he was going to have to go find her before she was hurt and he had to put a bunch of pieces back together.  Had he fucked over some deity that he’d forgotten about?  He didn’t think so, but the day was sure shaping up that way.

Pushing on the armrests of his chair, Djall came to standing.  “I will be off finding this female.  Can you please find out who I’m supposed to call once I have her back here to the manor?  Getting her out of Hell promptly is, I'm sure, on the top of everyone’s agenda.  And, also, find out how the fuck this happened!”  He gave the demon a tight smile and teleported to the forest.  This was not going to be fun, and someone would definitely pay for the inconvenience later.

[behindthesemasks]

16

It's time to get some answers...

Mel and Klaus stood arguing about her safety while they waited for Ambrose and Nic to make an entrance.  He wanted her back in the suite at the hotel, she wanted to get to the hospital or help at the dig site.  Melania was tired of being treated like a china doll by everyone around her.  While he understood that, he couldn’t get her to understand what that drive had just felt like to him; knowing that if the asshole in the passenger seat of that SUV had been a better shot, she could have been hurt or killed.  It had felt like being on that plane when the bullet had gone through Grant and hit her during the extraction in Peru.  

Finally, tired of arguing with him and getting nowhere, she had agreed to go back to the hotel, but not for the reasons he would have wanted.  She didn’t tell him, but she planned on getting every drop of information from Andreas she could.  His final disposition she’d leave to Klaus and Eric, but she was going to make that man hurt…a lot.  Being shot at while going on archaeological expeditions was something she was seriously becoming tired of.  Ever since she’d landed in Peru last year, she felt like she’d had a gun pointed at her every damn day.  Whether it was because they were keeping her safe, or because they were considering taking her out…it mattered little to her at this point. 

Klaus was relieved that she agreed to go back, even if he didn’t trust that his thoughts and feelings on the matter had any bearing on her decision.  He could tell there was something more going on behind those crystal blue eyes of hers, but if she was out of the line of fire, he could at least focus on taking out the threat to her and their friends.  When it was all said and done, he knew there would be a reckoning to be had over this, and the incident in the hallway at the hotel.  That didn’t bother him; the possibility of her being hurt bothered him.  He could take her anger.  Seeing her in a coma in a bed again, that he wasn’t sure he could take.  Twice in less than six months was too much for him.

When they showed up in the Quonset hut, looking frustrated and ready to commit great violence, Nic and Ambrose agreed with Klaus about Mel going back to the hotel.  They hadn’t found anything of use in the SUV.  Whoever was funding this was good, very good.  Ambrose already had calls out to people who technically didn’t exist.  The word was being spread that there was a price, a high one, on the head of whoever thought to try and take out the heir to the Meyers fortune.  There was to be no expense spared in finding out who did it.  Ambrose was calling in favors in spades, and he knew that in the end he would get what he wanted.

Tossing his keys to Case, Ambrose told him to get her back to the hotel.  After seeing the man’s driving, Ambrose was sure that he could keep her safe and in one piece if there was another incident.  He considered sending Gabe back with them as well, but decided to keep him with the team for the moment.  With Cam and Erik back at the hotel in addition to Case, that should be enough. With the warning going across the wires, anyone attempting to harm his granddaughter did truly have a death wish that every man in that building would gladly grant.  From the look on Klaus’s face and the missing rear window of the SUV they had been in, he had no doubt that retribution was going to be swift and brutal from him.

Following Case and Mel out to the SUV that was parked alongside the one that they had arrived in, Klaus hated that she was going back without him but also wanted to go hunting for those responsible for what just happened and wanted her safe.  He was pissed, beyond pissed.   Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her a look that spoke volumes about the warring emotions that were inside him.  Her hands rested on his hips before she went to her toes to kiss him.  

“Go get ‘em killer.  I’ll be fine.”  Her voice was low and sexy, her lips brushing over his. There was something more in her eyes though, something feral and lethal.  Damn if it didn’t turn him on.   She was going to be the death of him someday, but damn he’d die a happy man.

He looked over to Case as she got in the vehicle and nodded.  Shutting her door, he headed back into the building and the waiting team.  His strides were long and purposeful; it was clear from his gate that this was a man on a mission.  He was going to find out who put her in danger, and eliminate them with great malice.  Maybe he’d even let the others help.

“Dez, get to the hospital.  That SUV had run flat tires.  They had expected to take fire, they were on a mission.  Alexander and Sasha aren’t safe and Cade isn’t enough backup in this situation.  I don’t want Mel leaving that hotel and the only way to keep her there is to get Alexander back there.  As soon as it’s dark, get him back to the hotel and keep his ass there.”  Nic was talking when Klaus walked back in.  He nodded over to him as he joined the others.  

“Klaus, Gabe, Donovan…you’re with us.  Grandfather just got intel.  We’ve got a visit to make to a mansion just outside of town that’s being rented by a mysterious Australian.  Seems there have been some rumors of the resident being a relics dealer.  Seeing as how we have one archaeologist down and another as a target, I think we’ve found who we’re looking for.”  Nic smirked as he looked at his men.  Damn he had a good team; he trusted every damn one of them.  

Both groups headed out to the two remaining SUV’s.  Ambrose had gotten the keys from Case for the one that was missing the back window.  Klaus took up position in the back of it as the other males got in the front.  Then they followed Case and Dez back to the main road towards town.  Just outside of the city, they turned off on another road, heading in the general direction of the manor.   They weren’t going to just roll up to the front door, they might have before someone tried to take out four of them.  Too late for being polite now.

When they were within a quarter mile, and on a road that didn’t lead directly to the house, Ambrose pulled the SUV off of the road onto a turn in that was rather overgrown.  Pulling past the tree line so that the rear of the vehicle was at least partly hidden, everyone slipped out as quietly as they could.  Doors were left slightly ajar and the tailgate was left up. Silence was the name of the game now.  The sun was up and that meant that they would stay low and in the trees as much as possible.  

That quarter mile seemed to take forever to cross.  If whoever was in the house was responsible for the attack on Sasha, and the price on Alexander, they didn’t want to give them warning that hell was about to come down on them.  They were as silent as possible, making sure to stay undetected and hidden the whole time.  Once they reached the tree line, they were no more than 50 yards from the main house.  There were no guards that could be seen, but there were people inside.  While the windows did reflect some of the surroundings, shadows moving inside could be seen.  

Each of the men took up observation positions to try and determine how many were inside and their locations.  They would wait till the cover of darkness to move in any closer.  There could be no more than two or three hours of daylight remaining.  Klaus and Donovan had shotguns, Ambrose and Nic were brandishing pistols, and Gabe had an AR.  They were ready for whatever lay inside that house.

As dusk was beginning to set, Klaus’s phone buzzed.  Pulling it out, he looked down at the number and sighed as he swiped to answer it. “Yeah?” His eyes closed tightly, then he responded curtly, “not now,” before hanging up.  Turning his phone off, he stored it in one of the pockets on his pants before returning his attention to the house.  

No one asked who it was or what they had wanted.  For him to answer it right now meant it was Mel or one of the other men on the team.  His response told them this wasn’t a good time to start a conversation on it either.  But they all did pull out their phones and turn them off.  Last thing they needed was a distraction when they were raiding the house.  

Soon darkness had fallen.  The men emerged from the tree line and headed towards the house.  Hand signals guided the entry to the house, 3 through the back and two through the front.  As Klaus, Donovan, and Nic headed around back, they were careful to avoid being seen through the large windows that each room on the bottom floor seemed to have.  While they had seen people inside the house earlier, no one was seen in any of the rooms now.  They could only hope that this meant that they hadn’t been spotted.

At the back door they paused and listened.  Seconds ticked by slowly till they heard the distinctive whistle that meant it was time for entry.  Klaus and Donovan brought boots to door at the same time to break the lock and swing it open.  Klaus took point with Nic bringing up the rear.

There were no sounds on the first floor when the teams made entry, but the sounds of the scraping of chairs could be heard upstairs.  Neither group delayed in heading up, where they were met with two armed bodyguards that were quickly dispatched.   The other men in the room looked surprised at first, and then fearful when Ambrose’s tall frame rounded the corner to enter the room they were in.

“So gentlemen, you’ve decided it was a wise thing to take out a hit on members of an expedition team on a archaeological dig that I’m financing.  You’d better have a damn good reason that you just put my granddaughter in jeopardy because I don’t take kindly to her being shot at.”

This is where the stammering started, first from one then another of the men.  All seemed to be claiming that they had no idea that Ambrose was financing the dig nor that Mel was one of the archaeologists on site.  If it hadn’t been abundantly clear they had found out who was behind the attack on Sasha and the hit on Alexander, Klaus might have found their stammering amusing.  As things were, he found it irritating and annoying.

“Boys, restrain our hosts.  I think they’ve forgotten what it means to do their homework before starting a job.  A refresher on exactly what happens to anyone who crosses me might be in order as well.”  Ambrose smirked as the color began to drain from the faces of the men who were facing him.  

Four hours later the men emerged from the house.  A little blood splatter here and there, but only the two bodyguards had ended up dead.  Now they needed to get back to the SUV and to the hotel.  Hopefully all the rest of the team would now be there with information from Andreas.

As they got to the SUV, everyone started pulling out phones and turning them on.  Most likely there would be texts or calls with updates to at least Ambrose and Nic.  Klaus knew he needed to return the call he’d gotten to, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that with everyone in the vehicle able to hear him.

“Shit!  How the fuck do I have over 100 missed calls.”  Nic growled as he started to flip through his call log.

“I’ve got 50,” Klaus replied, not really wanting to look through his log.

“What, did I get the jackpot with only 3?”  Gabe joked as he tried to figure out who was calling him from the 228 area code.

“FUCK!”  All heads turned to look at Ambrose.  In the dim light of his cell phone, pure anger showed on his face.  He hit a number on his phone and the soft sound of ringing could be heard in the stillness as no one else moved.  “What is so god damned important?”  His voice left no room for misunderstanding that he was pissed.  “What do you mean she’s missing?” 

Klaus’s heart dropped through the floor and Gabe almost dropped his phone.

Banner by @cafekitsune

[itsonlytext]

Innate Destructibility

He knew that if he wanted this (them) to work, he was going to have to stop squirming in his own words.

content and warnings: sexual thoughts, brief mentions of drug use and overall a rather (unspoken) angsty scene >1000 words. john struggles to communicate, sherlock struggles to understand.

(if it better suits you, here's the ao3 link to this one-shot.)

John (oh God, John).

He tried to hide the fumbling in his hands as he clumsily wandered over the planes of this warm, inviting body, but he couldn't. He knew that John had figured it out by now. (He must've.)

He had, of course, done it in the past (experiments, drunken teenage accidents, Janine). But he had never done it with John before - a man. (The man.) And no matter how hard he tried to force the trembling in his slender fingers to dissolve with every heated kiss, to push down the shaking in the sighs that escaped his lips, he knew he couldn't have hidden it. John always knew. He must've. (He sees everything.)

"Sherlock," he sighed out with a gentle laugh, pulling away and staring up at him earnestly.

Sherlock ignored the way his heart was beating faster than he had ever felt it before (heroine, 29 mg cigarettes, murders, they didn't compare anymore - they never will). He ignored the way his curly hair fell slightly into his line of sight (John) and blew out the breaths trapped in his lungs.

John rested a hand on his (left) shoulder, his hand hot to the touch, leaning his back flat against the wall. He seemed to struggle to find his words (it was unlike him, Sherlock thought. John always knew what to say). "I- You.." he huffed.

Oh. Flushed cheeks, heavy chest, nostrils slightly flared - he was catching his breath. (How didn't he deduce that?)

Sherlock kept his lips pursed the way he usually did when John spoke (too scared to ruin it with his innate destructibility).

"You know that you don't.. we don't. We don't have to do that.. right now," he shook his head, running his hand over his mouth and looking firmly into Sherlock's eyes. "This.. is good. This is really good, we don't have to do anything else yet."

Sherlock didn't understand. (Never understood anything.)

He didn't reply. Didn't he want this? Surely those four torturous years of waiting, hurting, miscommunications and implications had been enough to calcify their current intentions. (Clearly not.)

John pursed his lips and moved his hand from Sherlock's shoulder to the nape of his neck. "Come here," he pulled him into a confident, firm kiss.

It was only (upsettingly) brief.

John knew he was confusing (losing) Sherlock with every obscure and choked out sentence, slowly pulling the rod back to shore with the bait still lamely dangling on the hook. He knew that if he wanted this (them) to work, he was going to have to stop squirming in his own words - an underlying disease that made all his bait look so incredibly unattractive.

"We can.. We can always--"

"John? Is that you in there?"

Mrs Hudson's wandering voice fell close to the (closed) bedroom door. "John?" her voice tilted like she was on the precipice of laughter.

Sherlock could see her scrunched up nose and smile in his mind. Her interruption was a good thing, he knew. No matter what John was about to say, he wouldn't have been able to understand it anyway (he never did, he never did).

"What are you doing in there?"

John dipped his head frustratedly and lowered his voice. "She's going to have a field day with this," he muttered.

A small smirk tugged at Sherlock's lips as he graciously stepped back and allowed John a bubble of fresh air from the wall he had been previously pinned to. He gestured to the door. "You might as well."

"What?"

"Well she's already heard you."

"Oh!" her voice had gotten louder, as if she had somehow managed to lean even further into the door. "Is Sherlock in there with you?"

The detective suddenly opened the door. "It is my room, Mrs Hudson," he replied plainly.

John didn't seem too pleased with his answer. Sherlock couldn't precisely tell why, but the face he made twisted his stomach into unfathomable discomfort.

"Yeah, no, Mrs Hudson, we were just.. Talking."

(Innate destructibility - a virus that attacked more than just his speech. His actions, his mind, him.)

She grinned.

"Yes, erm." Sherlock watched John uncomfortably rub the nape of his neck as he stepped closer to their landlady with flushed cheeks.

Oh. He was embarrassed.

"Did you need me?"

Her eyes wandered over him knowingly before nodding. "There's a delivery out for you."

"Right, er, thanks.." he glanced at Sherlock with another ambiguous gaze - nothing that promised, 'we'll talk about this later', or 'i'm sorry, maybe when we're alone'. His facial features provided no form of context that Sherlock understood. (Why couldn't John ever finish the sentences that mattered? Relieve him of this unadulterated agony?)

Sherlock watched him follow Mrs Hudson out of the bedroom without a second glance.

John (oh God, John).

tags: @nathan-no @helloliriels @dragonnan @strawberrywinter4 @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @a-victorian-girl

[magical-mistakes-vm]

17

"No worries, Elmar, I have made challenge regarding Mahala.  As such, she will come home with me." Balor gave no one time to react before he strode quickly from the room, leaving the others to try and catch up.  He was grinning as he made his way down the hall.  It was game time.

"The fuck you will," Vollrath replied, and almost jogged after Balor.  He grabbed his brother, and brought him to a stop in the hallway.  Elmar and Baldur weren't sure if they should step in or just go grab Mahala and run.  "She is going nowhere with you."

"So, she does mean something to you?" He'd known it.  Baldur had been covering for his brother.  Balor broke out laughing, then calmed and leaned towards Vollrath.  "She needs away from emotional stress and raw power unrestrained in the air.  You're a live wire of both right now, little brother. " Balor tipped his head and raised his brows, waiting for Vollrath to try and argue. “And I still give challenge, so…she is coming home with me.” His grin grew wide.

"She doesn't even know you.  After all she's gone through she should either go home alone, or with one of us.  Do you really want to inflict Coven politics on her after what you know she’s gone through today?  Just to be a complete asshole to me?" Vollrath could not even say why he did not want her alone with Balor other than jealousy.  Unlike his two friends, it would not be beneath his brother to sabotage things with Mahala.  He was ready to resort to violence to stop his brother.

Balor led a faction of the Coven that leaned towards darker magic.  They butted heads regarding this frequently via email, but was one of the reasons it had been so long since a face to face meeting had taken place.   Not only could Balor cause a rift between him and Mahala, he could lead her down that path.  The thought of either of those made Vollrath’s heart hurt in his chest.  

"Let her decide." Balor knew he was playing with fire there, but he also wanted to make sure this was not Stockholm Syndrome or some undue influence. He'd never known Vollrath to do that, but something was definitely off with the whole situation.  If nothing was being done to cause her to choose his brother, he would abide by the female’s decision.

Vollrath didn't like it, but he also didn't want to keep fighting with him.  "Fine.  But what she decides is final." The men shook in agreement.

When the four men made it back to Vollrath’s office, it was clear Mahala was tired and really did need rest.  On the walk there, Elmar shared his suspicion that she was still suffering a concussion.   While he could force total healing, without knowing exactly what you WERE healing, you could do more harm than good.  So he had been mitigating symptoms more than anything and trying to boost her natural healing magic.

"Sweetheart," Vollrath started, and from the beginning she could tell something was wrong, "there is a possibility that you may have a concussion.   You shouldn't be alone tonight, and someone needs to keep you awake.  So, you have an interesting assortment of warlocks to choose from.  Baldur, Elmar, myself, or my brother, Balor. I believe you met earlier." 

Mahala looked at all four of them in turn.  Was this a joke?  Maybe a test? How was she supposed to decide on one of them?  After at least a full minute, she sighed heavily and closed her eyes.  What had she done to deserve such a day?  Maybe this was a hallucination and she had yet to wake up in Vollrath’s arms on his couch.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky.

"I have not totally forgiven Elmar and Baldur for their behavior earlier, " she started as she slowly opened her eyes.  Mahala wanted to fall into Vollrath’s arms, to feel his lips on hers again, to talk more as they had the night before.  However, he was irritated, and she could feel the same pressure in her head as earlier but not as strong.  As the day had worn on, she had learned to differentiate the vibration of each man, and it was Vollrath affecting her currently. 

Paying no mind to the others in the room, Mahala walked over till she was right in front of Vollrath.  Her hands slightly clasped the lapels of his suit coat.  "I need you to trust me.  You get jealous and mad after one night spent talking, and I get the migraine from hell from it.  You're doing it again." A soft sigh escaped her slightly parted lips as her gaze fell to the middle of his chest.

"Löwin, he's still getting used to you having gotten under his skin." Balor interjected, garnering looks from the other four assembled.  "He trusts you, he doesn't trust me."  His brows rose as he tipped his head towards his brother with an annoyed smirk that narrowed his eyes slightly.

Mahala looked back and forth confused.  She felt like she was being set up by being asked to choose who she was leaving with,  and she wasn't liking it.  "Then why even offer you as an option?  What is going on here?"  Vollrath tried to put his hands on her lower back as a sign of affection, but now she pushed him off.  "No, I feel pushed and pulled like this is some kind of game, and I don't like it.  You're all four fucked up." 

Pushing away from Vollrath, Mahala strode quickly from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Vollrath quickly followed, not sure what he was going to say to make anything better, but knowing that he couldn’t leave her alone.  Her tears were already shredding his heart.  Fuck, what did he do now?

Balor was right behind his brother with Baldur on his heels, Elmar bringing up the rear.   None of them wanted Mahala alone or upset.   It was clear that the day's events, plus the familial issues between the brothers, had brought about a situation that needed handled, and needed handled NOW.

"Mahala, wait." Vollrath lightly touched her arm as he caught up with her in the hall.  He didn't want to grab her.  She'd been jerked around enough by Jonathan earlier, but he wanted her attention.  "I think you misunderstood."

She stopped and spun to face him, upset etched on every part of her face and laced through her voice. "Then explain. Do you trust me? Him? What is going on, Vollrath?" Her eyes searched his face, imploring him to give her an answer that made sense, to ease the ache in her heart and eradicate the feeling she'd been a fool.

He sighed, running his hands lightly over her upper arms. "Yes, I trust you.  After all we discussed last night, I would hope you would know that.  I also have no reason to demand or expect anything from you." Vollrath stepped closer, still wondering where the foreign feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness came from.  "Do I trust Balor to keep you safe and take care of you? Yes. Do I think he'd also tell you one sided truths and try to put me in a bad light?  Also yes."  One hand rose to cup the side of her face while the other found the small of her back to pull her closer to him. "We already know there is something pulling us together, little witch.  I'm sorry if my fumbling of handling it is causing you pain. I don't want that, and I don't want you pushed away." 

The other three men had stopped a few feet away.  Balor wanted to step in, not to cause his brother problems, but because he had a clearer picture of what was transpiring; and also the complications of who she was.  There were things he doubted Vollrath knew, things he needed to if he was to be with Mahala and protect her.  Unfortunately, he also knew if he even tried to utter a sentence at the moment, he would most likely end up with a broken jaw courtesy of the brother he’d be trying to help.

"I…I just feel so confused with all that has gone on.  Last night with us. Then today here, not only with Baldur and Elmar, but with Jonathan too." As she had earlier, Mahala’s hands gently held the lapels to his suit coat.  "I don't understand what is going on.  Not with us. Not with your friends. Not with any of this."  Her eyes slowly closed as she choked back a half sob.   Her heart hurt almost as much as her head.

���My brother is not easy to figure out, Löwin.”  Balor said from a distance, he might have decided to interject, but not to get in his brother’s reach.   “He’s still trying to figure it out himself, and he’s not the best with patience.”  The death glare that Balor was getting would make most men wither, but he was not afraid of Vollrath lashing out at him from a distance.  For one thing, his brother knew he was right, also, Vollrath had to be wondering what Balor knew that he didn’t.

“You aren’t helping.”  Vollrath’s jaw locked and he closed his eyes, focusing on breathing and not hitting Balor.  He would keep following Mahala if she kept trying to run away, but he would prefer not to have to.  

“I’m not trying to.  I’m trying to let her know what she’s in for.  After all, you haven’t been paying attention.”  Now Balor was just smug and all four of the others were looking at him quite annoyed.  He wasn’t going to share anything any sooner than he had to.  Watching his brother trying to figure it out was much more entertaining for him, and currently Vollrath couldn’t be much more frustrated.

Mahala took a breath, pulled away from Vollrath, turned and strode over to Balor quickly.  The sound of her hand impacting the side of his face seemed to echo off of the walls of the hallway, as the other three men stood there with eyes widening, Baldur’s jaw actually going slack as well. For his part, Balor looked no less stunned than the others that she had not only challenged him, but physically assaulted him.  He might be at least six inches taller than her, but Mahala went toe to toe with Balor and stared directly into his eyes, her face only inches from his.  Her chest rose and fell with her breath for a full minute before she spoke as she fought to get control of her own anger, fuck everyone else in the room.

“I honestly don’t give one single fuck what your problem is with your own brother, but if it concerns me then I do.  So either spit it out in plain fucking English or get the fuck out of here.  I’m losing patience with you and for some reason it seems like the other three in this hallway won’t confront you, so I damn well will.”   Her back was straight, her head erect, and she didn’t flinch from the icy blue eyes that seemed to be trying to bore a hole in her.  She wasn’t sure why Vollrath, Baldur, and Elmar were intimidated by him, but she wasn’t.  That could be a mistake, given she had no clue how powerful of a warlock he was, but it was her mistake to make.  She’d certainly made enough mistakes in the last twenty-four hours, what was one more?

[giriduck]

I keep rapidly oscillating between two very opposite hypotheses / TotK headcanon predictions:

“Maybe Ganondorf’s ties to Demise might be severed!”

And

“Nah, he’s gonna be the nastiest Ganon. All of the beefy TotK Ganondorf content we’ve seen—updo, Gerudo voe attire, Sheikah-like katana—might all just be an Ancient Ganondorf from an epoch prior to his most recent downfall, attempt at conquering Hyrule with a horde of monsters, and eventual capture and stasis. He woke up fuming after 10k+ years and he’s going to be the. worst. He might even stay a Mummydorf throughout the present.”

While a large part of me wants the former, the latter is probably more likely.

[talonandelilah]

5

“Tal, why were you hiding a neck tattoo earlier?  Does it mean something?” Lightly Del traced over it with one finger, the pattern ornate and flowing, she found it beautiful.  “Am I not supposed to see it?”  She looked at his face again and met his eyes.  He looked confused and that made her a little scared.

He didn’t HAVE a neck tattoo.  What was his girl…no…she wouldn’t tease him about....oh fuck!  Without saying anything Talon was up off the bed and into the attached bathroom in an instant and flipped on the lights which were way too fucking bright after being in the two dim rooms.  As his reflection greeted him though, there it was and he couldn’t deny what he saw.  Holy FUCK!  

“Uh, Red Hot, ya wanna come here?  We need to talk, sweetheart.”  Yeah…that was an understatement, genius.

He heard her coming behind him before he saw the red hair over his shoulder and when he turned around he saw it.  Fuck yeah!  “Babe, I got some good news and some bad news.  Which ya want first?”

Del’s eyes searched his face and she felt like crying.  After what had just gone on between them and now there was bad news of some kind?  Had she done something?  Was there something about Talon that Brie hadn’t told her?  Did he hate her?  Was she just a pity fuck?

“Bad.”  She choked out and tried not to cry. He really needed to get better at teasing her. She was going to break his heart if she kept crying when he was trying to to tease.

“K, if you say so.”  He got down right in her face so that their noses were touching.  “You’re absolutely and positively, 100%, without any doubt….stuck with me.  Yep, can’t get rid of me.  I mean, you are literally going to have to put up with my fucking ass for…well, ever.”  He saw confusion cloud her eyes and she did that thing where she looked back and forth between his eyes and her little eyebrows drew together.  FUCKING CUTE!  God, he was falling for her in less than five hours, and that was without the nifty magic tattoos they now had.  

Talon leaned in and kissed her softly.  “There’s more bad news.” Her eyes went wide and before she could react, he deftly moved behind her and pushed her forward so she could see herself in the mirror.  “You got one too.  Only yours is right over your heart.  Kinda cool.”  He grinned as he put his chin on her shoulder, watching her stare at herself in the mirror in disbelief.  “Ya do know what this means, right?”

There it was, he wasn’t lying.  She did have one, and it matched his.  And, he was almost giddy over it.  He was happy.  She was afraid to be happy and could nor be more shocked if he’d said she’d sprouted a second head.  They. Were. Mated.  Married.  Bonded.  Paired.  Suddenly her eyes met his in the mirror and she still had a look of shock as she tried to take it all in, but as their eyes met the joy in his eyes was not debatable.  

“You’re happy about it?” She was hesitant. 

“You’re not?”  Now he looked unsure, but his arms came around her waist to hold her.  He was trying to comfort her, she could tell but she honestly wasn’t sure what she needed.

“I’m overwhelmed.”  She was honest, but she was happy and she put her arms over his to keep him from pulling back.  This caused his arms to tighten.  “I am happy, but this whole immortal thing is new.  Like a week old new.  And now, I’m married…ish…and…I just….well…I…” Del closed her eyes and took some deep breaths.  Her anxiety was kicking up.

“Red, shh..  You don’t have to explain any more than that.”  He understood now.  He had been afraid she hadn’t wanted him, but now he got it.  It hadn’t occurred to him how new all of it was and then this.  “We’ll take everything as slow as you need it to be, ok?”  Her head nodded and he kissed her cheek before turning her around and pulling her against him, then reaching over and flipping off the light.  “Come on, let's go back to bed.” Tracing them over to the bed again, they climbed in and he laid on his back, letting her choose where she wanted to be.  Her head came to rest on his chest and it made him smile.  “You can stay in here, or have your own place.  I’ll leave it up to you.  Or you can go back and forth depending on how you feel most comfortable.  Delilah, I’m not going anywhere.  Even without this new shit, I liked ya.  I liked ya A LOT.  I didn’t want what just happened to be a one time thing or just something casual.  I know we just kinda met and all, but I had a feelin about ya.”  Talon’s finger’s were gently caressing Del’s arm as he talked to her.  “Del, babe, I was gonna be all yours even before we knew about this.  From the second I saw ya and Brie told me about what ya liked, I just wanted to get to know you.  No one else.  Just so ya know.”  He stared up at the ceiling.  He had wanted her to know, to understand.

He was HERS?  Even before?  This sexy as sin man was hers?  He could have walked into any bar in any city and walked out with some hot chick and he had wanted her?  She found it hard to believe and just about said it, then her brain kicked in.  What was it he had asked her about when they’d left breakfast?  Gaming.  Hot as he was, how many women complained about their men being heavy into gaming?  And being immortal, how many women were going to want a man who was heavy into gaming and killing things?  Two things that were her passions.  

“Right now, I’m liking right where I am.”  One of her long legs moved to lay atop his and she heard a light chuckle and felt his chest move.  Her fingers played lightly in his chest hair.  Unlike so many of the “pretty boys” that her friend had dated, Talon was not smooth chested.  He was fuzzy, and she found it sexy.  “And don’t you ever shave, Feathers.  I like the fuzz.  Only place you can shave is the face.”  That earned her an outright laugh.

“As my lady wishes, Red Hot.”  His free hand rose to press her head briefly into his chest as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.  HIS  “Any other demands that I must obediently follow?  I might have a few demands of my own for you, you know?”

“Whatever this cologne is, wear it.  I think I could just smell it all day.  I might be addicted.”  She pressed her nose into the center of his chest and did a sniff and a slight sigh.  “So, what are your demands, Feathers?”  She liked their names for each other.

“Darlin, I’m not wearing cologne.  Welcome to matehood.”  He chuckled and kissed her head again.  Damn, this was gonna be good.  He might have to ask Brie to put him off of duty with the guard for a while and take her to the tropical area of Imperium for a bit of a honeymoon, a naked one.  

“I saw that sports bra and panties combo,” he felt her shift a little uncomfortable and he grinned knowing she wasn’t anticipating what was coming, “get more of those.” She froze. “Like lots.  When we’re gaming together, I want ya in that.  God, that would be so fuckin hot.  No lace, no strappy shit I gotta figure out.  Just that. K?”

“Are you serious?”  She sounded like she didn’t believe him.  She probably didn’t.

“Dead.  Get sets in every fucking color.  And do you mind just either sleeping in that or naked?  I want to feel your skin on mine when you’re with me. Like right now is heaven.” Another kiss to her head.  

“You’re being serious?  No sexy lacey stuff with heels?” Del asked again, still sure he was joking with her till he tipped her head back using his fingers under her chin and she saw his eyes.  No, he was serious.  “Okay, cotton panties and sports bras it is.  Every color of the rainbow and then some.  And I’ll steal your hoodies and shirts.”

“Now you’re talkin, Red Hot.” Talon grinned and she swore she felt herself start falling for him.

“If you hold me like this, I have no problem sleeping naked with you.”  Her hand again skimmed lightly over his chest.  Him being naked next to her was a pretty nice thing all on its own.  “In fact, I’m pretty happy to stay just like this until it’s time to get ready for the ball.  Unless you have other plans?”

“Fuck no.  Darlin, I am all yours in every way.  You and me are going to make plans for things for any time I’m not on duty with the legion.  Even if it’s just sittin on the couch and watchin a movie with the door locked and a privacy ward so everyone else can fuck off.”  His arm tightened around her.  “And tonight I’m talking to the boss and getting some time off.  You and me are gonna go to a private place I have here in Imperium on a honeymoon.  I’m going to take care of ya.  I told ya, I wanted ya before the mating thing.  I’m not changin a thing, cept I might be a bit more possessive.  Can’t help it, it kinda comes with the territory.”  Talon kissed her head, his own still reeling a bit from being mated. “I like the sound of that, Feathers.  We have a lot to learn about each other, but we have all the time in the world to do it.” 

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[devil-in-the-details-ay]

15

A night that was supposed to be romantic is taking a wrong turn....

There had been an ache first in his chest that had told him something was wrong, an almost burning that seemed to grow the longer he stood at the bar.  A pull of hurt that grew and twisted, it had no reason for being, and that confused him, briefly distracting him from his anger.  Then he looked over towards Yara for a moment just to see how she was doing since he had been gone for longer than he had anticipated or intended to be.  Her posture gave it all away, making the ache suddenly make sense to him.  It was through their bond and caused by her upset.  Whatever had bothered her earlier had gotten worse, and he had a feeling that Argona had not helped it.  Turning away from Argona without another word, he strode purposefully towards his wife without another word to the succubus.

“Come, we are leaving.” He gently touched her shoulder, his voice matching the softness of his touch.  Astaroth wasn’t upset with her in the slightest, and he didn’t want her to misinterpret that he was.  “You are sitting here looking dejected on what I had hoped to be a fun evening out for us, Yara.  I am sorry for whatever has upset you.  I’ll call the car and we can go back to the cabin and talk.” His expression was soft, as was his voice, but his eyes were studying her meticulously.   

“Don’t you need to finish your conversation?”  Her voice was a little cold and a lot distant.  Yara looked everywhere but at him, uncomfortable,and if he had not been supernatural, her voice would have been too quiet for him to hear. It was all she could do not to cry as she shifted in the chair a little.  The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her, pity was worse than anything.  “I don’t want to ruin your evening, I’ll be fine.  I always am.”  She swallowed, fighting her emotions that were having a full fledged war within her.

“It is finished, and I’m not going to leave my wife sitting here looking and feeling dejected in order to talk to anyone.” His brows drew together, not understanding her discomfort and avoidance of him.  He hadn’t done anything that he could think of to hurt her, or upset her.  Jealousy or insecurity he could understand, but now he was confused.  Was this part of that?   Was he misunderstanding her reaction?   He wanted to support her, but how?

“I'm fine. There is nothing wrong.  You do not have to end your conversation with your friend due to me.” She wouldn't look at him, and her voice was anything but convincing.  If she met his gaze, he would see the lie plainly in her eyes.  At least looking away from him kept it hidden for a few more moments.  Actually saying that she knew that he’d prefer to be with anyone in the club but her, would break her.  Her father forcing the marriage had been the ultimate punishment on her.  Not because Astaroth was cruel, but because he wasn’t.  However, he was male.  A male that she was quite sure wasn’t oblivious to the fact that many beings in the establishment were lusting over, and most of them would be a better companion for the evening, or for any time, than her.

“Yara, what is wrong?” He waived over a waitress; he needed a drink badly.  He took one of her hands gently, still not understanding why she wouldn’t even look in his direction.  It felt like they’d gone all the way back to the beginning again, even farther back than the beginning honestly, and he was starting to become frustrated. “You’re lying and I know it.  I’m not going to stop asking until you give me a real answer.”  For the moment he was able to keep his voice calm, but it was a war that he did not know how long he would be able to win.  Her avoiding answering was causing his frustration and anger to rise, and it was not like he’d ever had to contain it before.

“Nothing.  I said I'm fine.” Still not looking at him, her chin lifted, and she ordered a blood wine when the waitress came.  “You don't have to stay sitting, go finish your conversation.  I believe the alluring blonde is still over at the bar.”  Now there was an undertone of bitterness that was so palpable in her voice that a deaf being would even have felt it.  Yara tried to pull her hand back that he’d taken, but of course he wasn’t going to let that go either, much like the conversation.  Once more she swallowed down her emotions and tried to put up walls.  Somehow she found that far harder with Astaroth than with anyone in the past.  After their previous conversations, the way he had treated her, and the way she had hoped things would be, it now felt like she had been a fool and that stung.

He ordered a demon's brew, neat. After the waitress walked away he leaned in and spoke right next to her ear. “Fine, I will not argue with you here.” His fingertips caressed her upper arm.  “I was not having a conversation, I was waiting for the bartender and being annoyed by the bitch of a blonde.  If you want to be mad at me for that, I can't stop you.  However, you’re not getting rid of me.  So, be mad.” He kissed her neck just below her ear then sat upright. His breath had been hot against her neck and ear, fanning out with each word.  

Astaroth could have said everything sitting up and she would have heard him.  He could have refrained from touching her.  The kiss was not needed since at the moment she was doing her best to attempt to pretend he wasn’t there.  However, he knew one thing: sometimes you had to gently push someone to pull the truth out of them.  It wasn’t something he’d ever done often, but he knew just enough to be able to do it.

She felt a wave of desire flow through her for him when his lips met her skin. There was no doubt that he had known just what he was doing.  He wasn’t fighting fair, but then neither was she by not saying anything.  She guessed they were even.  “I'm not..” Yara looked down, as he took her hand now in both his and laced their fingers. “What are you doing?” Now her head turned to look at him, brows drawn together. What WAS he doing?  And WHY?

Smirking, he leaned over until their foreheads were touching as he replied, “not allowing you to push me away because you misread a situation.”  When she tried to pull her hand back a second time, he held tighter between his two. “I brought YOU here to have an enjoyable night.  If you wish to ruin it, I won't stop you.  I, however, will also not argue with you. I’m not leaving your side, and I am still going to show the only woman here who I care to be with, the affection she deserves.”  Pulling her hand up, he kissed the back without breaking eye contact.  “Together.”

She sat blinking at him without saying anything.  What kind of game was he playing? Why did she feel so confused?  There were new emotions and feelings flowing through her and she didn’t know how to handle them.  Everything was so overwhelming.  The words of Lucifer battling the words of Astaroth now in her head.  Astaroth’s actions battling her father’s words of foretelling. 

While he waited for her to say something he was glad their drinks were delivered.   He needed the strong demonic liquid to help him deal with whatever set this round of emotions off.  He was perplexed by her behavior and feeling suddenly closed off from her. Why did she suddenly think that he was looking to be with someone else after they’d had this conversation.  They’d agreed.  This had been covered.  Did she not trust him?  What had he done to deserve that?

“Asti, I…” suddenly she felt unsure again and her head dropped away from his; so that her eyes were looking at her lap, “I mean you don't have to…”  She sighed, and her jaw worked.  Why had coming here made her feel so off balance suddenly? 

“Have to what? Act like we're married?  We are. Act like your husband? I am. Act like I like you? I do.  Act like I care?” He reached over and took her chin gently to turn her face to look at him. “Papilio, we may not be madly in love with one another, but I do care about you and want you happy. I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why any of this should come as a surprise.  I wasn’t flirting with that female, if that is what you think, and there isn't anyone else here I want to spend time with. I don't know why you're now feeling insecure, but I am yours.” Astaroth leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.  He was starting to understand, remembering what she had told him about things Lucifer had said.  This was their first time in public.  Maybe a place with fewer people would have been better.  A wine bar instead of a nightclub.

“Only because you are being forced.” Suddenly her voice was colder, she was fighting tears and she didn't know why.  She was trying to put on her millennia old mask of indifference and condescension but it wasn’t working. “We both know I'm not the one in this bar you'd be with if you had a choice.” Her eyes again swept the women lusting after him, then could not meet his afterwards.

His eyes followed hers and he sighed. “I cannot help how others look at me.  Just like I can't control the men who are ogling you.” They quick whip of her head, to look at him, told him she hadn't even noticed. She had been so caught up in her own jealousy and insecurity that she had not noticed anyone paying attention to her.  He found that intriguing.  She had been afraid of losing him.  It had never occurred to her that there were others within the bar that would have been glad to take her away from him.  It still bothered him slightly that she was taking her insecurity out on him, even if he was beginning to understand.  “Why are you getting upset at me for what they are doing?” Astaroth wasn't sure where this patience was coming from, but he was thankful for it.

“I'm not.” Yara protested. “I just know how this goes.” She saw one of his brows raise so she continued with how her thoughts went.  “Once you find a way out of…” a finger landed on her lips very softly, but it was the darkening of his eyes that gave her pause more than that.  She knew that look.  She’d seen it during their wedding.  She’d seen it with her father.  This was anger.  Deep, dark, anger. The fact that what she had started to say evoked that emotion so strong and deep told her one thing: she was very, very wrong.

“I have not, nor do I plan to look for a way out of this. I have tried making plans for the future with you today about the house.  We will be visiting someone who can tell us about your mother.  Do not finish that sentence if you truly want things to work out between us, even if just as friends in this arrangement.  Because if that is what you truly think of me, then there is no future of anything but resentment and discord.” He was angry but trying not to lash at her the way he normally would at someone who insulted him like that.  A temper tantrum from her was the last thing he fucking needed. 

[madmanwonder]

[Ask] How did your date go, Hippolyta? Did he win you over like he did your niece, or was it as awkward as you expected it to be?

"Both. Fucking both...." Hippolyta groaned into her pillow as she unable to believe she had fallen in love with a man old enough to be her son and was the love interest of her favorite niece.