#he’s only 22 he’s had enough suffering to last him a lifetime now

[sunmisbf]

this is making me cry

[doudecim]

I want to say that 99% of the fics here are on FF.net for I have only recently discovered the wonders of AO3, and I still didn’t dig deep in there to find all the HitsuKarin goodies.

That being said, I will put the list under the cut because this will be one very long post. So, I hope you all enjoy it!

one-shots

A Constant Fascination, by back-in-a-bit. — 'Colour me blood red passionately.' Hitsugaya makes it his personal mission to get Karin to blush. Pity it's easier said than done. In fact, it might just take him a lifetime. [rated T]

A Fall in the Fall, by MeteorLeopard. — This was ridiculous! There she was, just looking at the fish, and the next thing she knows, she's up in a tree being held against her will! And it's all his fault! [rated T]

a little suffering is good for the soul, by the milliner’s rook. —  Future fic. If there are stupider ways to get courted, Karin can't think of them. [rated K+]

A Woman Scorned, by Glowing Blue. — The twisted fairy tale of Karin finding her own invite to the ball, though she's hardly looking for a Prince Charming. [rated T]

but leave the soul alone, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. Death, it's catching. Or: the one where Toushirou and Karin share night shifts at the hospital. And coffee. Terrible, terrible coffee. [rated K+]

Collection, by ichilover3. — A drabble/oneshot dump. Shenanigans, silliness, and sexy-times abound. Also alliteration, apparently. [rated M]

crawl into your shadow, by the milliner’s rook. — AU. There's a witch in this sleepy little village now that goes by the name of Karin, but nothing has changed since she's arrived. Not really. [rated T]

Delirous, by carved in the sand. — Matsumoto finds her captain to be a lovestruck teenage boy. [rated T]

duckling theory, by the milliner’s rook. — The first thing Karin notices is watermelon. Looking back, maybe it should have been startling green eyes. [rated K]

For You, by Glowing Blue. — Death had never been the paradise everyone wished it to be. But then they found each other. [rated T, two-shot.]

frostbitten, by the milliner’s rook. — Set during the time skip. The winter they meet is unkind with snow. [rated K+]

Frozen Moments, by CrazyAce'n'PokerFace. — 101 drabbles/one-shots that give a glimpse into Toushirou and Karin's life together. A love story told in snapshots. [rated K+]

funny valentine, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — I'll be yours if you'll be mine. [rated K+]

humour me, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — True love's kiss. That ought to do it. [rated K+]

i’m high on believing, by the milliner's rook. — For the record, he prefers his plain black shoes to her fancy red sneakers. [rated K+]

ice breaker, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. There are better ways to get found out than making out in a closet and tumbling onto the ground. [rated T]

if my heart was a compass you’d be north, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. Give me a reason to believe. [rated K+]

In Every Season, by Adobo-chan. — A collection of HitsuKarin oneshots. [rated T]

In the Dark, by ichilover3. — It really wasn't anyone else's business. She should be allowed to fornicate with midgets if she wanted to. [rated T]

innocent guilt, by SebonzaMitsuki27. —  AU. Oh, I know! You're a tramp with wings! [rated K+]

Juxtaposition, by Lady Azar de Tameran. — Something within Hitsugaya Toushirou thinks that he may have met his match. [rated T]

keep me in your pocket, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Set during the timeskip. Don't stay out of touch, okay? [rated K+]

Kuchiki Rukia, the Glorified Courier, by MeteorLeopard. — Delivering super-top-secret messages between dimensions is tough work; believe me, I know. If it weren't such a rewarding experience I'd downright refuse to play the messenger. Honestly. [rated K+]

liliputians, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. It's alright, kid. I'm short too. [rated K+]

Lovely Complex, by Unknown lazy ass. — She slyly grinned, “Wow, you really are head over heels for me, aren’t you Toushirou?” [rated K+]

Momo knows Best, by MeteorLeopard. — Sometimes having a meddling older sister... sucks. [rated T]

of halos and wings, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Future fic. He had betrayed Hinamori with nothing but his heart. [rated T]

Old Haunts, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. You were just gone, Toushirou, what was I to think? I thought—I thought you'd come back, and you did, twenty years too late. [rated T]

Peeping Tom, by Glowing Blue. — The love story of Hitsugaya and Karin, as seen from open windows and heard through thin walls. "Hisagi's eyes had a tendency to stray." AU. [rated T]

phantasmagoria, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Flickering through black and white, they find their perfect shade of grey. [rated K+, two-shot.]

put down your sword and crown, by the milliner's rook. — AU. When her old man dies to save Ichi-nii's life, everything changes. Days after the funeral, the word Quincy is spoken for the first time, and at five years old, Karin becomes defined by it. [rated K+]

Red, The Colour of Despair, by the milliner's rook. — It was strange how much difference one colour could make. [rated K+]

Revenants, by carved in the sand. — Hitsugaya ponders the ghosts that haunt the girl he still loves. [rated T]

Sports and Sex are Universal (but never the twain should meet), by back-in-a-bit. — Toushirou gives Karin a flat look. "I'm not high-fiving you over sex," he says. [rated M]

Subtle, by nublados. — Toshiro comments on the subtlety that is Karin Kurosaki. [rated K+]

The Art of Asking, by Felix02. — He should have known that her father wouldn't be able to keep a secret, especially from one of his daughters. [rated T]

The Art Of Getting By, by the milliner's rook. — AU. There's some difficulty between juggling flirting, killing Hollows and getting to class on time with the hottest guy in high school, but Karin's certain she'll get the hang of it eventually. [rated T]

The Staircase not Taken, by MeteorLeopard. — Perhaps it was a good thing that the stairs were destroyed, her brother acting demented and a violent fight going on without her just upstairs. After all, the visitor who happened to drop by was worth the wait. [rated T]

the winter sun smiled for things to come in spring, by the milliner's rook. — What is it with you! You're either too young or too old! What the hell! [rated T, two-shots.]

Urahara's Lawn Mowing Service, by MeteorLeopard. — Incorrect phone numbers are a messy business. Even messier though is the business that happens after said incorrect phone call. "Fine, but I bet your girlfriend didn't call back because your lawn needs to be mowed." [rated T]

velocity, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — Aim for the goal, and don't look back, no matter what. [rated T]

where angels fear to tread, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — They belong in hell. [rated K]

You Taste Like Birthday, You Look Like New Year, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. She likes his hands, Toushirou notices. Loves them, in fact. [rated M]

complete

lune, by SebonzaMitsuki27. — AU. Me and you and moonlight shivers. [[rated T] other main pairings are ByakuyaHisana, ShinjiHiyori and UlquiorraNel, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]

Waterlogged, Wind-chapped, and Sun-bleached. — They grow up together, and the slow progression of their relationship shapes their world. AU. [rated T]

Wendybird Chronicles, by the milliner's rook. — She wonders if they ever had a chance. If they might have missed it, somehow. [rated K+]

on going

Wrong Number, by Lunatasha. — Unknown (10:22): So! I just read all of the conversations I had last night while I was out drunk and thoroughly embarrassing myself and please let me apologise for bothering you (especially as I think you were working if you were in your office?) last night. I mean in hindsight I probably should have stopped messaging you as soon as it was clear you weren't who I was looking for, but drunk me apparently hates sober me so yeah, I'm sorry. That being said thank you again for helping me out even though I must have been bothering you, I appreciate it. [rated T]

Only in Dreams, by TullyBlue. — Brother, she had called him, but he spent the entire meal acting like she was a ghost. Eating with the twins, he can’t even imagine being that cold to his sisters. Yuzu’s laughter brightens his day and that admiring glint in Karin’s eye, that he only catches every once in a while, means the world to him. The so-called brother in his dreams makes Ichigo’s skin crawl. Everything else, though, he wants to see more of, to know more about, to understand. Old, wood floors, a spacious room, flowing black robes, and those swords... [[rated T] other main pairings are IchigoRukia, UryuuChad, GanjuHanatarou, so beware that HitsuKarin is not the only focus in this one.]

abandoned or on permanent hiatus, probably won’t ever post a new chapter again

Blizzard Blues, by the milliner's rook. — Future fic. I heard your brother had an eight pack, Captain Hitsugaya! That he was shredded! [rated T]

Catalyst, by Etiena. — With captain-level shinigami in her family, it is no surprise that Kurosaki Karin has potential. But it isn't family which triggers her change. Instead, a chance encounter with a young shinigami captain leads to startling revelations. [rated K+]

Go Against the Grain, by Adobo-chan. — Old law deems that only a son may become the Kurosaki House's next leader. Born from this ancient tradition, a tragic betrayal and her mother's sacrifice, Karin is brought up as Kurosaki Kazuto, the 29th head of the family. [rated T]

oh sinful rose, by the milliner's rook. — AU. Five years after the monarchy is overthrown, a noble finds a forgotten princess in chains. DISCONTINUED. [rated T]

Quandary, by Glowing Blue. — Funnily enough, meeting such a spirited single mother was actually part of his job description. AU. [rated T] (I love this one so much!)

Roommate For Sale, by SavageTrickster. — AU. There are many things in life that she didn't know, but the one thing Kurosaki Karin was certain of is that her overprotective brother is going to blow his top when he meets her new roommate.

[kuronanox]

Your Knight - Leopold Vermillion

"Leo." (Your Name) calls waiting down the hill for him waving her hands as the wind blows through the air, and the autumn leaves fly around them as he runs towards her with excitement, his smile ear to ear.

"I'm running away from my brother!" He tells her as they grab each other hands and run to the field where they would play together. "Princess and Knight?" Leopold asks her as she nods her head with a smile.

It was a cute little game they played often where the usual the knight saved the princess and there was a happy ending. "Wow your magic is so strong!" She says with sparkles in her eyes as he shot a baby fire out into the sky.

"You should see my brothers it's way better." He says as it explodes and they looked up to the sky to mesmerize it.

"You won't get in trouble being out here?" (Your Name) asks as she picked at the green grass and threw it into the air.

"Not if I don't get caught!" He chuckles as he slightly pushes her and she runs after him. "Hey that's not fair! I'm not fast." She pouts chasing after him.

"Huh?! Lame Leopold I didn't know you were one to play with commoners!" Solid shouts from afar with a smug smile on his face. (Your Name) gasps as she hid behind Leopold and watched Solid walk towards them.

"Come here little girl!" He says snatching her roughly away from the youngest Vermillion and threw her onto the floor. "Commoners like you don't get to have the luxury to hang out with us royals, got it!" He sneers kicking dirt on her dress as she looks down and lands hard on the floor.

"Leave her alone!" Leopold yells and threaten to use his magic on Solid but the older boy just scoffs and places his hands on his hips and chuckles.

"It's okay Leo, he's right. Commoners shouldn't speak to royals." (Your name) says trying to get up from the floor. Her voice was soft and shaking as if she was about to break down in tears.

"Shut up peasant! Who told you to talk!" Solid yells kicking her back to the ground as Leopold punched him in the face.

"What's little 8 year old Leopold going to do? Go snitch on me?" Solid taught as he laughs and dodges the punch before swinging his own fist hitting Leopold right on his cheek as the younger boy fell on the floor across from (Your Name). The two children look at each other with sadness written in their eyes.

"That's enough!" They heard a deep voice yell from behind as 22 year old Fuegoleon was watching with furious eyes and his mana flaring, carefully he picks up (Your Name) from the ground and looks towards Solids direction.

"Go home now!" He sternly says to Solid as the boy grew in fear and ran back to the Silva estates.

Fuegoloen holds (Your Name) as she starts to cry and wipe her tears as she says "I'm sorry Lord Fuegoleon I won't play with Leo no more."

Leopold runs besides them and sits on the ground next to them feeling ashamed he couldn't protect her from Solid and he didn't try his best to prevent it from happening.

"What is your name?" Fuegoleon asks kindly as he kneed down eyes to eye with her.

"It's (Your Name)." She sniffles as Leopold takes a hold of her shaken hand.

"It's a very pretty name, don't let anyone tell you who you can be friends or not friends with. We are all the same. I am thankful you let Leopold comes home everyday safely." He tells her with a smile as she looks up to him and nods with determination.

"Leo is my best friend I would never let him get hurt!"

"And I am thankful for that. You did take on a powerful kick."

Leopold squeezes her hand as she squeezes it back.

"Let's get you home now." Fuegoleon says carrying both Leopold and her in his arms.

"Aniue! I'm 8 years old I can walk myself!" The boy pouts as his older brother drops him and continues walking with (Your Name) on his back.

Once they reached her home she gave Leo a hug and Fuegoleon a shy smile before saying a farewell.

"Leo, I'll teach you have to defend yourself. How will you be her knight if you can't even protect yourself." He lectures as Leopold looks down ashamed, he kicks the ground and clench his fist with frustration. "Imagine if your sister was here."

"How do you know about that?" Leopold grimly says playing with his feet avoiding eye contact from his older brother.

"Don't think I don't know where you run off to everyday." Fuegoleon scolds as they walked back home together.

Now 8 years later Leopold was becoming a grown man and learning his full potential. He hadn't seen (Your Name) in a few years since she moved to the country side. He achieved so much after the fight with the elves and preparing for the fight with Spade Kingdom he was proud to say he was 100x stronger than he was years ago.

There were times he missed her dearly, someone he could run to and talk to about his royal problems or how training went but she was gone and all those feelings were kept hidden in his heart.

Although he was a happy kid he did have times where he fell into the dark. Like sometimes being the shadows of both his siblings.

"I miss her." He says sitting on the open field where they use to play, starring into the scenery and slightly cringing at himself. They were both children with imaginations never did he think he would ever be anyone's Knight but he was thankful it was to (Your Name).

Knitting his brows he wondered if she was doing alright, he remembered a time where he ate dinner at her house. Her parents were poor and they ate soups most night but he never had ill thoughts towards there life style.

Leopold remembers his younger self sitting next to (Your Name) as they ate potato soup and bread. The last of the bread her family could get. They offered him the biggest piece but he refused and let them have all the pieces. He finally realized how good of a life he was born into. As he drank the soup he remembers a feeling of warmth go down his stomach.

He realizes it was made with hard work and dedication, her family poured their heart and soul to support a roof on their heads. That night before he left home he hugged her tightly for a few moments longer as she questioned what was wrong with him. "I promise you won't have to suffer when we get older." he says seriously to her as she just laugh.

"Don't worry Leo, we were just born into different classes, some people have it worse than me."

Leopold smiles to himself as he made that silly promise that he wish to make come true, maybe in another lifetime it was worth trying. He couldn't even find out where she was at now.

"Leo let's go." Fuegoleon says from behind the younger boy, recently he would find him at the field whenever he had bad days or if he wanted to get out of the city. Fuegoleon wouldn't say much but take him home every night.

(Your Name) had returned to Clover Kingdom after a few years away, her parents making enough from farming to move back to the city. The place was still the same, nothing changed much besides some rebuilding from the damage that the elves had left behind.

"I wonder if I can see Leopold again?"  She wondered looking at the capitol before going back into her family business.

"Why don't you go visit him?" Her mother said to her that night as she got ready for bed but she shook her head and remembered the brief memory of solid telling her they don't belong together.

"We are on a different level with royals, I was just a kid."

"Still, you guys were inseparable."

Walking into her bedroom she closed it slightly and laid in bed. Would Leopold still be the same boy he was years ago. People change and out grow sometimes. For all she knew he could have turned out snobby but that was not likely.

One early morning Leopold ran after a thief that he caught early as he was heading towards the fields. "Stop right there!" He yelled chasing the hooded figure as civilians were pushed onto the ground and caused a commotion around the city.

(Your Name) turned her head to find the hooded figure running towards her and the basket of bakery goods fell on the floor as she gasp and tried to get out of the grasp of the thief. "Let me go!" She shouted as she was lifted into the air with a rope around her neck.

"Let her go!" Leopold shouts from below with his fire spilling out of his hands, his face filled with anger.

"Leopold!" She yelled surprised to see him. He was tall, his hair more spiked and his tooth was growing out.

"(Your Name)?" He says confused, he didn't recognize her. She was a women now. "How many years has it been?"

The thief pulled the rope around her neck as she tried to get out of the grasp only to be dragged around as it choked her. "Help her!" Someone yelled from behind Leopold as he froze in place.

He trained for this, he had to show her how much of a man he became. He wasn't the little boy back then that couldn't fight back. Her cough echoed in his ears as tears fell from her face from not getting enough oxygen. "Fuck it."

Charging towards the hooded thief he threw a row of swirling fire as it went down a few yards and the place was fired up to where everyone had to evacuate.

The ropes burned off her neck as he grabbed her hand to safely. Only to grab the hooded figure and punched him onto the floor. Sitting over the thief he punched him one after another till his knuckle was bloody and bruised.

"Leopold stop! Your going to kill him!" (Your Name) echoed, pleading him to stop.

Focused on punishing the thief he was blacked out but was awake in his own world.

"You tried to kill (Your Name)."

"This thief tried to kill her."

"He tried to take her away!"

The thief was on the floor not moving as she touched his hand only to flinch back. Leopold body was burning with heat. He was angry. His eyes had murder written on them as she pulled his body back not caring how hot it was burning her.

"Leo!" She screamed as he looked back up to her.

"(Your Name)?" He says as she looked down at him with fear, glancing at the man on the floor not responding he lifted his fists to see them marked with red and purple.

"Stop, that's enough." She tells him as he looks around them. The place was covered in smoke and ashes. "You saved me it's enough."

Embarrassed he couldn't control his anger he yelled into his hands as she led him back to her place a few streets down.

After he settled down a bit, Leopold couldn't look into her eyes. "You must think lowly of me." He says with a whisper as she shakes her head. "No I don't, it's just scary how violent you got."

"It's only cause he was going to kill you! I had to protect you! Don't you know how it works here! The weak die unless they are strong enough and I wasn't going to lose you again!" He yelled as her eyes widen, Leopold had never yelled at her before.

(Your Name) had to understand they were older now, they weren't kids in a daydream anymore.

"I'm sorry." She says as he felt his stomach drop. Walking towards her he pulls her into a hug and dropped his head on her shoulder.

"I can't lose you again. You don't know what it's like to be the shadow of both my sibling and carrying the burden of the Crimson Lions when my brother was in a coma and when I had to fight the elves and train for the upcoming war with the Spade kingdom, it's just so much going on. I didn't have anyone to tell or go to."

(Your Name) wrapped her arms around his body and embraced him lovingly. He had grown up so much over the years she couldn't believe it.

"Leopold, I'm not scared of you, just shocked. I know you would never hurt anyone with out a reason. And I'm here now. I'm not leaving again." She rubbed his back as he hid his face by her neck. Like a baby cub he was yearning for warmth with the only place he found comfort. In her company.

"I'm no princess but I'm glad my knight showed up." She chuckled as he slightly smiled and embraced her tighter.

"I'll always be your knight and shining armor." Leopold says with a smile on his face.

(Author note: Leopold looks so good with the skip time! My baby ;-;)

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Thorns

Summary: A tale as old as time. Dom stumbled upon a castle and perhaps something more. (will be a series) 

Warning: some language, it’s a slow ass burn y’all 

The legend was a juicy one, so juicy many an author had taken time to transcribe their own version of the tale. Some were incredibly far-fetched, others took a strict moral approach. Those who know the in parties involved agree the events occurred in a similar manner. 

Long ago in the English country side, a small kingdom sprang up. The castle was idyllic, with sweeping rose gardens and stables, ivy crawling up the towers, and a lavish ballroom for parties. Known for a variety of goods that grew just a bit too magically, the kingdom prospered. Magic was not unreasonable in the kingdom and served as a comfort, especially as protection from the restless wolves that lurked beyond the castle walls. 

Still, life was pleasant and just until the princess came of age. Perhaps it was the philosophy she took to reading, or the endless days bemoaning to the kitchen staff, but Y/N simply could not believe she was expected to get married at the tender age of 16. It was disgusting. Damn near revolting and illegal. 

So when the royal ball brought conquests from around the world to try and whoo her, they all failed. One by one she rejected every prince (and the occasional princess) in their hand in marriage. Most took the rejection with stride or at the very least were so royally cold it did not matter that is until one rather evil prince (speculation was his name was Loki and remained second in line to the throne) was rejected. 

“You pathetic quim. Any girl would consider it an honor to marry me in Asgard.” He hissed like a snake, moving around her as she tried to cross the floor. 

“Then leave.” She stepped onto the throne, overlooking all of the hall. “Anyone who shares his sentiment may leave as well.” 

“If you so desperately want to be alone, alone with the wolves for eternity you shall be.” 

All at once, Loki brandished a staff, twirling it around his head as a beam of green light struck the fair princess in her chest. Amidst the chaos the crowd fled, leaving a collapsed Y/N in the arms of the king and queen and the staff. 

“Send for the witch!” The queen shrieked, a notable lack of concern for her daughter present. A curse one was a curse on all. 

Ashley arrived wearing a cloak that disguised the beauty beneath. For hours she tended to the young princess, doing her best to reverse the spell. In the end, she managed to alter things just enough that hopefully the young princess would have some time. In good faith and service, she remained in the castle which would come to be a blessing as the young beauty would soon become a beast. 

----

Many years later, a musician woke from his slumber with a stretch. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn as he rushed to get dressed for the day. Today, Dominic Harrison was going to make it big. The village could just suck it. If he didn’t, he supposed he could return to the small minded village and marry a simple small minded girl, but that was hardly Plan B. 

Kissing his mother and father, he loaded the cart and hitched his horse. His younger sisters rushed out to hug him farewell, housecoats billowing behind them. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye!” They accused. 

“Me? Never. I was just letting my girls rest.” He pinched a cheek and nose for good measure. “Now, what do my darlings want me to bring back for them?Crepes? Biscuits? A puppy?”

“A rose!” 

He smiled his crooked smile. “Those are my favorite, why don’t you pick something else?” 

“Biscuits then, but get a rose for you.” 

Dom couldn’t believe he was so blessed with such a loving family and such darling sisters. He did intend on expanding his family one day, he just hoped it would be with someone as loving as he. 

With his final goodbyes, he mounted his horse and headed off. He had made the journey plenty of times in 22 years, no doubt this time would be any different. This thought would soon prove naive as a storm swept in, his horse tossing him off and running straight toward the castle gates. 

Running to catch up with his beloved pet, Dom heard the howls began to echo through the woods. With a strangled cry of frustration, he met up at the gates with his horse, holding the reign in his hands. 

“Please!” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for. The royal family weren’t exactly the most helpful or kind bunch from what he had heard in his lifetime. Dom shook the rusting gates, the thought hitting him he didn’t know when the last time the gates had been opened. 

A low creak pushed the rusting gates open just enough for him and his horse to squeeze on through. Kissing the Saint Christopher that hung from his neck, Dom led his horse inside the gates. The rusted metal clanged shut trapping him in. 

“Don’t worry, bubba, we’ll be alright.” He assured, stroking his horses mane as they ventured up the drive to the castle. “Look, there’s a stable for ya.” 

Leading bubba into the stable, the horse whinnied happily entering a stall with plenty of hay and water. “You stay here, I’m going to see if I can get some shelter.”

Soaked to his core, he trudged on to the castle, stopping only briefly to smell the roses that grew in twisted  knots on a trellis. How beautiful they were, he was certain his sisters would love one. 

He plucked a red one off the vine. “How delightful.” 

“Who goes there?” 

Dom jumped in fright, turning quickly to find a short young woman, arms crossed. A cloak covered her head which paired with long tendrils of hair covered her face. “Please, I mean no harm. I just got lost, the storm spooked my horse and I-”

“So you steal a rose?” How cold Dom felt in her presence. “Guards!” 

A small army dressed in faded tunics baring the royal arms surrounded him and ceased his arms, struggling he was carried down into the depths of the castle. 

----

“Princess? Perhaps it might be wise to offer our guest a room of his own?”

 The question was posed by Harry, one of the most faithful members of the staff. Once upon a time he sang for the crown at parties and balls, now he kept the castle a foot and kept Y/N company in her chamber. He was not usually so bold in his distaste of her actions, though he was always quite kind. 

“Harry, I said no.” Y/N turned her back to him and focused her attention once more on the wilting rose that remained encased in glass on her balcony. 

“But what if-”

“But nothing!” She had turned cold in her isolation, her view of the world tainted by such loneliness, her view of men tainted with the oppression they caused (except for Harry it wasn’t his fault, nothing ever was). “Besides, who could ever love me?” The list of reasons to not were ever growing. 

Harry crossed the room in two brief strides, his professional guard dropping as he scooped her into his arms. “Y/N, don’t think like that. We all love you and if I could break it, you know I would.” 

Tears fell onto the glass dome encasing the rose as the two fell into silence. Once Y/N curled up into a ball and fell into fitful sleep, Harry grabbed a candle stick and rushed into the prisons. 

The chill made his teeth chatter as he tsked under his breath. “Princess’ll learn one of these days, only way somebody’s gonna love her is if she’s fucking nice.” He continued his grumbling as he reached the cells. 

Drawing out his keys, he unlocked the cell revealing a strapping young lad that reminded him of himself when he first arrived at the castle. “Hello mate, I’d like to offer my most sincere apologies for the treatment you have received up until now.”

“Pop your clogs.” Dom spat, squinting his eyes at the stranger. Under any other circumstance, literally any other one, he would be jumping the tall man’s bones because damn he was pretty. 

“Well that’s not very nice at all.” Harry quipped unlocking the cell door and holding it open. 

“You arrest people for picking a bloody rose around here?” 

A harsh look clouded the servants face, eyes turning sharp. “Some suffer eternal damnation for one.” Um, what the fuck? Dom thought. “Unless you would like to spend the night freezing down here, I suggest you follow me.” 

Sucking in a bated breath he decided he had one option and that was to follow the stranger. Harry flashed a dimpled grin, “Name’s Harry. The delightful princess you met earlier is her royal highness Y/N.”

“She’s a peach.” Dom scoffed keeping his stride in time with Harry’s, a frown lacing the other man’s face. 

“Things were not always like this.”

“What happened?”

Harry shook his head, leading him into one of the many unused guest chambers. “Nothing you need to worry your little head about right now. For now, dry off and rest we cannot have our guest getting ill.” 

Now, Dom wasn’t entirely sure he was a guest, or at the very least a willing guest, but he desperately wanted warmth and to sleep so he complied. He found robes of the finest silk and immediately thought of how much his mum and sisters would love the extravagance of it all. 

It was the first time he cried to go home. 

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, April 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Tony Bennett's brave last days

Page 2: Stars with Mad Skills -- they became fast experts for plum roles -- Daniel Day-Lewis, Timothee Chalamet, Natalie Portman, Ryan Gosling, Jamie Foxx

Page 3: Adrien Brody, Margot Robbie, Bryan Cranston, Shia LaBeouf, Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Cruise

Page 4: Susan Sarandon's roles and costumes

Page 7: Be Prepared for the Worst -- know these lifesaving tips before a crisis happens

Page 8: Lonely Stefanie Powers never wants to date because she still has gotten over lover William Holden's sudden death, even though it'll be 40 years ago this November -- the former star of '80s TV classic Hart to Hart, who's now 78, considers Holden the one true love of her life, even though she's been married twice to others and had a long-term relationship after the Hollywood legend's tragic death and she can't imagine being with anyone else at this stage in her life when Bill's memory is so sacred in her mind and his death still haunts her to this day, and it will only get worse as the anniversary approaches -- Holden, then 63, died at home in Santa Monica on November 12, 1981, of massive bleeding after falling and striking his head on a piece of furniture while heavily intoxicated -- it rips her apart to this day thinking how he must have suffered all alone in his apartment, bleeding to death -- the pair had a decade-long, passionate affair that lasted until his demise, which led her to carry on their mutual passion for wildlife conservation and Stefanie founded the William Holden Wildlife Foundation and is still the director -- she's tried being in other relationships, but it's been more about companionship than anything else and she doesn't have the motivation to date when the best man has already come and gone

Page 9: Vax Hacks -- avoid scammers who prey on fears of COVID-19

Page 10: His first day on the job as an honorary cop, Jeremiah met the other guys in blue and was the proud guest of honor at a special swearing-in ceremony just for him, and he's only five years old

Page 11: Important minerals for your body -- why you need zinc and potassium and how to get them

Page 12: Rude Awakening -- stars who don't mind their manners -- Alec Baldwin, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Christian Bale, Rachael Ray

Page 13: Sean Penn, Ashton Kutcher, Robert Pattinson, Russell Crowe, Cameron Diaz, Bruce Willis

Page 14: Dear Tony -- America's Top Psychic Healer Tony Leggett -- useful lessons learned from the pandemic

Page 15: Get well soon wishes go out to Chevy Chase, who just came out of the hospital after a five-week stay for heart issues -- in 2018, the star was diagnosed with alcohol cardiomyopathy, a weakening of the heart muscle caused by excessive drinking; he had dealt with his drinking back in 2016, when he entered the Hazelden Clinic to receive treatment for alcoholism

Page 16: Even though the century mark looms just around the corner, Betty White still radiates joy -- calling herself the luckiest broad on two feet, the 99-year-old Hollywood legend shares her advice for living a long and peaceful life -- she says her life is divided absolutely in half: half animals and half show business and you can't ask for better than two things you love the most

Page 18: When a California man won $145,000 on Wheel of Fortune, it turned out to be good fortune for a lot of people as he donated his entire winnings to the charity Uplift Family Services and Los Angeles Regional Food Bank, whose services support thousands of families

Page 19: These seniors are literally beating the coronavirus -- with 99 percent of them vaccinated, the 700 elderly residents of the Westminster-Canterbury on the Chesapeake Bay senior living community in Virginia Beach held a party and they had a lot to celebrate

Page 20: Cover Story -- Tony Bennett is facing his brave last days as he battles Alzheimer's disease at the age of 94 -- the singer was diagnosed in 2016, but kept the terrible illness secret until recently and has not yet experienced common Alzheimer's symptoms like episodes of terror, rage or depression but the disease has progressed -- for now, wife Susan Crow and the oldest of Tony's four kids, 67-year-old Danny from his first marriage, are caring for him while he lives in the couple's New York City apartment

Page 22: Recycle your baubles, bangles and beads -- bored with your beaded necklaces? Blase abut those old bangles? If your costume jewelry collection no longer inspires, there are many brilliant ways to give it new life or earn you some cash

Page 24: The internet's newest fitness star is 102-year-old Julia Fulkerson, who had a ball participating in her great-grandson Brody's virtual gym class

Page 25: Young Darius Brown has a mission in life: to make shelter dogs look as spiffy as he can so they'll get adopted and to do that, he provides the canines with slews of adorable bowties that he sews himself -- five years ago, when Darius was eight, his sister Dazhai taught him to sew and the passion was good for him because he'd been diagnosed with speech and fine-motor skills that the craft improved over time -- he says he saw how happy the people at the shelter were to get the bowties and how much the dogs liked them, and he decided to make more and he came up with a goal to give bowties to an animal shelter in every state -- so far, he's sewn a whopping 600 of the canine accessories himself, and helped dozens of pooches find forever homes and he especially likes to focus his attention on older animals and pets with disabilities, since they're the toughest to find homes for and the shelter directors say Darius' efforts have made a huge difference in the life of hundreds of pups

Page 26: Summer Horoscope 2021

Page 28: It's not just for the birds -- tips for watching our fine feathered friends

Page 32: Reverse Gear -- walking backward is good for you -- here's something new to try the next time you go out for a walk: do it backward -- it may sound silly, but health experts say there are mental and physical benefits to the practice, but go slowly at first to avoid injuries

* If you're always putting the needs of others before your own, you could be at risk for compassion fatigue, a condition that can physically and mentally drain you of time and energy -- compassion fatigue is a state of emotional overwhelm that is constant and persistent, once in this state of emotional exhaustion, it becomes difficult to empathize with those they help and essentially, it's empathy burnout

Page 34: Grandads Before 50! No rocking chairs for these grandpas -- take a look at these celebs who had their grandchildren before their first gray hair -- Jim Carrey, James Brolin, Donny Osmond, Mick Jagger, Pierce Brosnan, Charlie Sheen

Page 40: The Element of Earth -- earth is the second of the four elements: fire, earth, air and water

Page 42: 10 Things You Didn't Know About Drew Barrymore

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Dakota Johnson and her parents Melanie Griffith and Don Johnson (picture), Kristen Stewart as Princess Diana in the film Spencer (picture), Tina Turner admits she instantly fell for husband Erwin Bach in 1986 when they first met at an airport in Germany, Bindi Irwin gave birth to daughter Grace Warrior Irwin Powell, Michael Douglas is still going strong after 5 decades as an actor and loves what he does for a living, George Segal passed away due to complications from bypass surgery, Jessica Walter died in her sleep

Page 45: Eddie Murphy is inducted into NAACP Image Awards Hall of Fame (picture), Diana Ross performs at the Segerstrom Center for the Arts in California (picture), Mario Lopez helps christen the tables at Mohegan Sun Casino in Las Vegas (picture), Ann-Margret and Julianne Hough attend the Family Film Awards where the redhead received a lifetime achievement award (picture), James Middleton who is the brother of Duchess Kate says he and fiancee Alizee Thevenet are done with city living, Justin Bieber's mom didn't like his newest tattoo saying Don't you have enough yet?, Zac Efron was spotted flying to Sydney with Aussie girlfriend Vanessa Valladares, Taraji P. Henson asked fans for prayers for her pet pooch that was suffering from post-surgery complications but he unfortunately died

Page 46: A lottery winner in Tennessee was feeling like a million bucks, until he realized he'd lost his precious ticket but he didn't give up: he retraced his steps until he found the ticket again

[secondpersons]

Every time I watch Dean's death, I can't help but wonder...

When Dean says, "It's good. It's good. We had one hell of a ride, man," and smiles calmly, gently at Sam…

How much of that was Jensen reaching out to Jared, because he knows his boy is heartbroken to have to say goodbye to Sam and Dean and the show and their 15-year-old bubble, in spite of the deteriorating writing and ill will towards his boy, in spite of the decision he and Jared came to together?

When Dean reaches out to place a hand on the side of Sam's graceful neck, saying, "Let me look at you," then looks up (used to looking up by now, his Sammy's been taller than him since before his baby brother turned 14) and just drinks Sam in, and, smiling from the bottom of his heart, breathes, "Yeah, there he is," then visibly marshals every last ounce of energy he's got to say in a stronger, more assertive voice, no smile because this is absolutely serious, "I'm so proud of you, Sam"…

How much of that was Jensen soaking up the penultimate scene they have together, the first scene in forever with no ever-expanding circus of sidekicks and new characters and pandering plots that tried and failed to dilute the heart of the real story, the story that made his and Jared's show, that got them a second season and a third and a fourth, that had the showrunners, directors, writers, everyone rave about the once-in-a-lifetime chemistry between him and Jared?

When Dean says, "I've always looked up to you"...

How much of that was Jensen, recalling the dark, tall, beautiful 22-year-old he'd immediately clicked with, how he'd taken Jensen's breath away with every new layer each day revealed, how the silken curls hid an electrifyingly intelligent brain and wisdom far greater than 22 years on this earth could explain, how the slender long model body carried more courage and sincerity and goodness than anyone Jensen had ever met before, and anyone Jensen has met ever since.

When Dean says, "And you're stronger than me. You always have been"...

How much of that was Jensen, unmoored, unraveling, and looking up to Jared, because Jensen doesn't know how he's supposed to handle the long bleak stretches ahead, weeks and weeks after years of having Jared next to him in Vancouver and in Austin, unbroken contact that became the only thing that made sense, enough to make Jensen mark those grim days in Italy with a spectacular show of support the following year, and if a few days had proved too much, how on earth was Jensen going to twist the coming lifetime of days without Jared into a new regular that makes sense?

When Dean says, "I was so scared. Because when it all came down to it, it was always you and me"...

How much of that was Jensen, thinking back on how an audition turned into him gushing to a friend about the pretty fellow Texan Jensen wanted to know everything about even though he felt he'd known him forever, how a gig in a cold city in a foreign country turned into home and having each other's backs, how being together day and night working in Canada turned into being together day and night building a life in sunny Austin, how work turned into best friends turned into a partnership with the only person on earth who understood Jensen down to his bones and a love that only came once in a lifetime?

When Sam says, "D-don't... leave me. I can't do this alone"...

How much of that was Jared's own fear rearing its head for a fraction of a second, because even though he and Jensen thought long and hard before making this decision, even though Jared knows it's the right decision for the beautiful story they've worked to tell and the toxic environment he no longer wants to have to deal with, it still breaks his heart to say goodbye?

When Dean replies, stoic and matter-of-fact and with unwavering faith in his brother, "Yes, you can"…

How much of that was Jensen silencing his own misgivings and fears of no more of Jared's incredible energy to feed off, because no one can ever match the chemistry he and his boy have together, pushing it all down and reminding Jared that he will not only make it out of their regular bubble but also thrive and breathe unforgettable life into lines on paper and knock the breath out of everyone working with him and fit just perfectly in a brand-new bubble.

When Dean says, "You always keep fighting. You hear me?"

How much of that was Jensen, remembering all those years ago when he held a broken boy in his arms, stunned to his core to find that the bubbly puppy energy that lifted everyone's spirits and lit up any room his boy walked into came with pain no one even knew existed, recalling his own anguish at discovering that his smart, eloquent, kind boy was fated to fight relentless demons every single day, watching his boy's fierce determination to get help, his rare courage to be as vocal as he could about getting help, his insistence to fellow sufferers that they were conquerors, not sufferers?

And when Dean wraps a hand around Sam's shoulder after they meet again in heaven and keeps glancing at Sam and doesn't remove his hand while the camera pans away…

How much of that was Jensen, choking a hot bittersweet snarl of emotions, letting the good feelings rise above everything else until he’s beside himself with fierce pride and joy in his boy and their work and the story that brought them together and gave him the best ride of his life and the best partner on this earth, even as he and his boy lay the beating heart of their story down to rest.

[sondepoch]

XVIII: Saeyoung's Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST 

The pain never left you.

After your primary commitment at the Mint Eye, it followed you like a shadow, everything a reminder of the brutal suffering the Elixir had inflicted on you. Then, once your secondary commitment passed, the pain was a ghost that whispered agonies into your ear at every corner, constantly following you—though it seemed to disappear after a blink.

As such, the pain you felt when you opened your eyes was familiar.

Familiarly miserable.

"Saeran," You had mumbled, seeing the familiar face scrunched up in worry. The boy had hesitated for a moment and then burst into a firework of apologies and curses and apologies. You didn't remember what you had said to him, but you recalled his warmth as he wrapped his arms around you when you drifted off.

In his arms, the pain stopped.

When you reawoke, though, he was gone.

You tried to pull yourself out of bed, ignoring the blinding headache that was hammering on in your mind. Pain coursed through your veins, your heart facilitating its spread with every steady thump it beat out.

What had happened?

You tried to remember something, anything, but there's just a giant gap in your memory. I escaped from the Mint Eye...then what? You struggled to remember, but it slowly came back. The blanks began to fill in, how you'd stayed with Vanderwood and Luciel, and offered to work with them. You felt a blush come to your cheeks, recalling how you kissed Luciel...but everything afterward was a jumble.

It's no use. You couldn't remember a thing.

You glanced around the room.

On your left, there was a half-drunk glass of water. Was it yours? You didn't know, but the sight of the liquid forced the realization that your mouth was incredibly dry. Ignoring the pain that flitted through your arm as you moved it, you grabbed the glass and downed the water in it.

If you'd had the strength, you would have stood up and gotten more water, your thirst not quite quenched yet, but the simple motion of moving your arm was more than you could handle.

You collapsed on the bed, waiting for someone to come in.

Surprisingly, your wait didn't last. The door opened, and you were instantly met by Saeran's friendly eyes, his mint green eyes glowing a bright...gold?

"(Y/N)?" You heard him call, and you blinked again, trying to clear your vision to no avail.

"Saeran?" You mumbled, trying to keep your sentences short and coherent despite the acute pain that was beating itself through your body.

"A-ah, I'm actually Luciel. Err, Saeyoung."

"Sae...young?" You inquired, your head a mess.

"Yeah. Saeyoung. My real name." He confirmed, walking over to your bed. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes blank as they processed the new information. Then, like a dam clearing, a flood of information swept through your mind and you understood out what was happening. Ah, it's Luciel. You thought to yourself. Wait, not Luciel. Sae...young? Saeyoung? Saeyoung. Yes, it fits him. Saeyoung, of Saeyoung and Saeran. Saeyoung, my knight in shining armor.

You chuckled lightly as you added that last part, the words just seeming to fit. Then, a swarm of pain erupted in your chest like bees, the mirth short-lived, but the feelings of amusement remained.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" Saeyoung asked, his body hunched over so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke.

"Y-yeah," You murmured. "I'm good. Thanks, Saeyoung." You said, testing the syllables on your tongue.

"I..." He began, looking away. "How mentally competent are you right now?"

"What...?" You blinked. Your brain was too tired to figure out what he was asking.

"I mean," Saeyoung said, running a hand through his red locks as he stared at the ground. "How fuzzy is your mind right now? With the Elixir in your system? We have a doctor coming within the next few hours but...do you think you'll remember anything I say now?"

You thought for a moment. What does he want to tell me? You wondered, confused. "I don't," You began. "I don't think I'll remember this. Because I'm pretty sure you or Saeran or someone visited me before and I barely remember that. But I remember how I felt."

You whispered that last part, but Saeyoung's ears caught it.

"How...how did he make you feel? The person who checked in on you before?"

"Safe." You said in an instant, the word out of your mouth before you could process the question. It was instinctive, almost as much of a reflex as the sheer familiarity and comfort that memory brought...being wrapped in gentle arms that supported you as much as they clung to you. "He made me feel safe and...happy."

"I see," Saeyoung said with an unreadable expression.

"Was it..." No. You didn't let yourself ask the question. In all honesty, you feared the answer. What if you were wrong?

"Was it what?" Saeyoung said, turning to you once more, now much closer.

"Was it...you?" You said, bringing your eyes up to meet his golden ones. "Were you the one who held me until I fell asleep?"

Saeyoung glanced away, but the pink blush on his cheeks was an answer enough. You didn't need your mind functioning at full steam to read the man's little quirks. You had barely known him two days (though who could be certain anymore, the Elixir always deluded your sense of time) but it felt like a lifetime.

"Yeah," He said after a long time. "Would you...like me to do it again?"

The hesitance in Saeyoung's voice was unusual. Even when he had first kissed you, he had been confident. In the present moment, though, he left the decision utterly up to you.

You welcomed him into your bed.

Barely able to move, he nudged your frame awkwardly as he pulled himself under the blanket and wrapped his arms around yours. He then brought a delicate hand to your hair, stroking it as Saeran had so long ago, but not in the airy, friend-zoned way the white-haired male had done. With Saeyoung, it was different. Romantic.

"What I was saying earlier," Saeyoung coughed. "When I asked how mentally competent you were...That was just because I just wanted to know if you would remember me apologizing or not. I don't know if you remember, but...I...I brought you to Rika. I was planning on exchanging you...for Saeran. I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I know it's fucked up. I just..."

You interrupted Saeyoung's tangent, holding the boy off on the impending mess of apologies and whispers he was about to deliver. "Who brought me back from Rika?"

"Saeran was the one who kept her from taking you."

"Yes, but," You took a breath. "Who brought me back? And tucked me in bed? Gave me water? Stayed by my side?"

Saeyoung didn't respond, but his silence said more than words could.

"Who is holding my hand right now and letting me forget the pain for the first time in hours?" You forced your chin upward, the motion surprisingly bringing forth no pain, and locked eyes with Saeyoung. The two of you were unable to break eye contact, only then aware of the fact that your faces were just inches apart.

Through your peripheral vision, you saw Saeyoung's throat bob up and then down as he swallowed. His breathing hitched, and he gazed at you with eyes full of affection.

Is this okay? You could practically hear him think. His hesitance was astonishing—and impressive. He had the girl of his dreams, literally in bed with him, two inches away from his lips, and yet, you could hear his inner monologue argue with itself as it debated whether kissing you under the influence of the Elixir was ethical or not.

How could you tell him that there wasn't any debate to be had? In that particular moment, after years of pain and misery, and being in a constant daze from the Elixir, your mind had never been clearer. Your thoughts never more united. Your desires never this intense.

You wanted him.

But how could say that?

You bit your lip.

You wouldn't be able to tell him. Clear as your heart was, you doubted you had the mental capacity to walk him through a full explanation of your emotions. You doubted you even had the vocabulary to portray the intensity of what you felt.

No, you couldn't tell Saeyoung a thing.

You could only show him.

Not waiting a moment longer, you pushed upward and pressed your lips against Saeyoung's. The kiss wasn't intense, fueled by lust as your makeout session with him had been, earlier. It was sweet and special.

Intimate.

You let your lips rest on his and only then noticed the little things. How his hair tickled against your forehead as he leaned downward. How his hands had traveled from your hair to your waist. How he had taken his glasses off earlier, almost as if he were expecting this.

You smiled into the kiss, unable to sense a single trace of pain in your body as Saeyoung melted your suffering away.

He flitted his tongue out, a quick motion that didn't go unnoticed by you. Without hesitance, you opened your mouth and welcomed him further inside you, loving how the moment wasn't rushed or even heated, but how he kissed you slowly to make everything more sensual that you could have imagined.

"Shit, wait," Saeyoung said, more to himself than to you.

You mumbled in dissatisfaction, irate as he pulled back.

"I shouldn't be doing this," He said, moving to leave the bed.

You stopped him.

"No." You pouted, forcing your arm around his body so that he was trapped in your embrace.

Your movement was quick, the arm already laid across his body before you felt the pain that followed the sudden movement. In actuality, you wouldn't be able to hold him there if he truly wanted to move. You knew it. And he knew it.

But still, Saeyoung remained and he laid his head down on the pillow, just above yours. He brought his hand up to your hair and stroked it once more. "Alright, I'll stay."

This time, you knew as you felt yourself being pulled toward the dreamworld, Saeyoung would be there when you woke up.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: Guess who's sick! Ordinarily, this would really suck since it means that I'll only be busier once I've recovered, but honestly I couldn't care less right now because I'm looking forward to being able to chill for a short while. :) Also I want to get a head-start on the next few chapters. On that note - I really want to thank anyone who's ever commented on or liked this story! Reading your comments is SUPER refreshing (and I read every single one) and that's what keeps me continuing this story every week <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 03/09/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 19

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 4k

Parts 20, 21 & 22 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Sam’s lying on his back staring at the ceiling. One hand is spread over his chest, strumming his fingers, lost in his own mind. Is he nervous? Perhaps he’s uncomfortable having you here, now that the two of you are this undefined thing. You’ve been in his bed countless times but you can recognize this feels different.

“I feel like you’ve got something you need to say,” you throw out there, wondering if he’ll even respond. In the past when you asked a question he didn't like, he just ignored you.

“I don’t like labels,” he answers without skipping a beat.

There it is. Sam is just a guy, after all. A guy worried about labels and expectations. This must be killing him.

“I know,” you sigh.

“It’s ridiculous.” He’s disgusted.  “Are you my girlfriend? Are we in middle school?”

“You hate being like anyone else, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he retorts immediately, then lays there as a million silent thoughts swirl between you.

“So, we don’t define ourselves. Not right now, anyway. I don’t need a title to be with you.”

“Good,” he nods. “Neither do I.”

“But there are things that I do need,” you continue, feeling him suck the air right out of the room. “I need commitment. I need you to tear up that contract. I need you to push yourself, it’s gonna be uncomfortable.”

“I’m well aware.” His voice is even, resigned. He already knows all this but it still had to be said. After all, Sam always lays out clear expectations for you, so you figure he deserves them in return. Shifting gears he looks at you, reaching over to grab your wrist. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Better,” you explain. “A lot better than yesterday, not too overwhelmed.”

“I’m glad. I was worried about you,” he confesses easily.

He was worried. He cares. The thought is still a novelty.

“There’s work I need to do. I have conference calls all morning and all the senior staff are meeting downtown after lunch. This is going to be a mess, I can’t expect anyone to work in a building where people were murdered, we’ve got to figure an alternative workspace.” It’s not that he’s callous, well, yes he is, but he’s also running a billion dollar business. Shooting or no shooting he’s the person who makes sure all the balls stay in the air. “Will you be alright going to the doctor on your own?”

“Of course. I’m not falling apart, I’ll be fine.” That part is true, right now you're don’t feel much of anything.

“My schedule will balloon as the week goes on. If you need me you’re going to have to tell me so Pepper can rearrange my schedule.”

The office is closed for an undetermined amount of time but that doesn’t mean there aren’t legions of employees working from home, keeping the campfires burning while the situation evolves.

“It’s alright, really. I’ve actually got a lot I need to figure out. I was supposed to leave for Chicago. I sold all my furniture, gave up my apartment. I donated most of my clothes to Goodwill. I’ll stay busy.”

You watch him grimace, a look of pure displeasure pulling the corners of his mouth down. He takes a breath and clears his throat.

“You can stay here, with me,” he offers, looking at the ceiling fan.

“That’s not a good idea and we both know it. I’m here a lot as it is. Besides, you don’t really want me to move in.”

“No, I don’t,” he confirms, watching for your reaction. “It’s not you, I want you, I-”

“We both need our space, Sam.” You let him off the hook. “I don’t expect you to leap from weekend sex partner to a white picket fence. I get it.”

This seems to relax him a little, his face going slack and then another thought comes to him, this offer less laden with dread.

“You can stay at my place in the city. I’m only there a couple of nights a week.” He looks proud of his compromise and you hate to disappoint him but this isn’t what you want either.

“A couple of nights a week and the weekends is damn near close to living together. I want to get to know you organically. If this is forced I don’t think we’ll even have a fighting chance.”

“We don’t know each other?” he counters.

“No, we don’t.”

“What do you mean? We know each other.”

“Sam, you probably know me more than I know you, but we don’t really know each other at all outside of how to give each other an orgasm. We’ve got a lot to learn about each other.”

“Okay,” he looks like you’ve just given him a month to live.

“Why does that make you so uncomfortable?”

“I’m not sure there’s much to know.” He shrugs.

“Sure there is. Under all that well-manicured exterior you’ve got a lot going on, there’s a human being. I’ve seen him from time to time. That’s the guy I want to know more of. I want your past and your future. I get that’s going to be hard for you.”

“You might not like what you find.”

“Stop doing that. You always talk like I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. I know the very idea of opening up makes your skin crawl. But you’re gonna have to try. We both are.”

“Is this the start of you telling me what to do?” There’s a sly little smile, a hint of levity.

“Well,” you grin. “I can’t be submissive all the time. Sex is one thing but I’m a complicated person. I’m not always going to do what you tell me. That part of our dynamic has its place, but I need to be able to speak my mind. I’m one of the few people who’s going to tell you no.”

“I have no doubt.” Sam nods, clearly in his own thoughts.

You lie there a while longer, still struggling with the art of organic conversation.

“Your dad taught you how to do crazy stuff, huh?” you ask quietly.

He side-eyes you, taking a breath. “A lot of stuff I wish I could forget.”

“You saved lives, that has to be worth something.”

“I suppose.” He tilts his head back into the pillow. “It’s a miracle anything good could come out of the mess he made of our lives. I am the way I am because of him. Dean and I both suffered, we just dealt with it in different ways. In another life, you’d see my face on the five o’clock news too.”

“Why was your dad like that?” you whisper.

“My mother died. It was a house fire but dad couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t accept that the person he loved most was killed by faulty wiring. He needed to believe that it was bigger than that, some looming evil. Over the years he convinced himself, and my brother, that monsters existed.”

“Monsters, like...evil people?”

“No,” he snorts, turning his head to look at you. “Monsters like ghosts and demons. He brainwashed himself and then my brother. Even as a kid I knew something wasn’t right. The stories he’d tell. He pulled Dean out of school. We lived out of a car and motel rooms until I finally had enough and left to go to college.”

“I’m sorry,” you’re not sure what else to say.

“Don’t be.” Sam gives your arm a soft squeeze. “I need to get up, I’ll see you tonight.”

The day is filled with menial tasks that help distract from the weight of real life. You go to Macy’s in an attempt to flesh out your wardrobe and scout out a couple small apartments for rent. After lunch is your first appointment with a female therapist that you end up liking. It’s just the first session and you don’t really get into anything but you like her. There’s something about her that reminds you vaguely of your grandmother and you’re already looking forward to going back.

-

It’s almost midnight when Sam comes home, wandering into the kitchen where you’re eating peanut butter toast over the sink.

“Hello,” he looks at you, setting his briefcase on the counter.

“Hello,” you return, staring at the veins in the back of his hands as he sets a stack of mail on the counter. “Did you have a good day?”

“I don’t know about good,” he huffs, shrugging off his suit jacket. “It was productive.”

He looks at you, holding something back and then moves toward the pantry.

“Sam, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he plucks a seltzer from the refrigerator and cracks it open.

“You haven’t touched me. I’ve been in your house, in your bed and you haven’t really touched me, not like you used to.”

“That’s not a question,” he volleys back, setting the bottle on the countertop.

“I guess it isn’t.”

“I didn’t know if that was something you’d want...or you’re ready for.”

“I’m not broken,” you inform him, slinking closer. “I’m ready.”

“I don’t have to be so...demanding. We can start slow and-”

“No.” You stare at him, both hands on the counter. “What happened, the shooting, made me feel like there was so much that’s out of my control. And there is. But when we’re together you’re in control and I trust you completely. I need you to be in control of me.”

He blinks, that familiar hungry look spreading from his eyes to his mouth. He shifts into a role that’s clearly much more comfortable for him, his hand palming the crotch of his pants.

“Take your clothes off.” It’s a straight forward, uncomplicated command that carries so much weight behind it. Those words are how he’s started almost every encounter from the beginning and it feels like a lifetime since last he said them.

You strip, shimmying out of your jeans, and pulling the tank top over your head. Your bra comes off next, leaving only cotton panties that you put on out of habit. He looks from your covered pussy back to your eyes, saying nothing. You leave them on and pull at your ponytail, letting your hair fall around your shoulders.

“I told you not to wear those.” He blinks, taking one step forward.

“I didn’t listen,” you look up at him, biting your lip. “I did a lot of things during the last couple of months. I used my vibrator, I put it inside me. I came without your fingers or your cock in my pussy. I’ve broken a lot of rules.”

Half of that is a lie. But it doesn’t matter, you want him to discipline you. You want his hands on you hard and dirty and rough. The punishment is always your favorite and you’ve craved it like you’ve craved his scent on your skin after he fucks you.

After everything that’s happened you want the intimacy of this sexual connection, boundaries, and limits he knows how to push, even when you don’t.

His eyes set, locking on your face with an expression that might be anger? Arousal? With him, it’s hard to tell, but it’s the exact reaction you were looking for. With two steps he’s got one hand in your hair, twisting until you’re on your tiptoes.

“Living room,” he growls, walking behind you, guiding you out into the main living area and toward the couch. After a final yank, he releases your hair, pushing you forward over the arm of the couch. “Bend over.”

You comply, quaking with excitement as you place open palms on the cushion, sticking your ass out.

“You need a reminder,” he explains. There’s a rustle of clothes, you know the sound well. You stay in place, prone and exposed as he rolls up one sleeve, then the other. After a moment his hands are on your ass, kneading your cheeks through the cotton. His thumb presses forward, wedging the material into your pussy. You’re already wet, the panties sticky with arousal as he confirms your excitement. “No panties was the first expectation I set for you. Did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” you confess, waiting for the reaction. But there is none, he doesn’t say a word as he hooks his fingers into the elastic and drags your panties down until they're around your thighs.

Crack.

The first snap of his hand comes down on your ass with a speed and force that knocks the air right out of your lungs. You yelp, face dropping into the cushion as a throbbing sting bursts to life. He’s not playing around.

“What do you say?” he asks, standing tall behind you, hands on his hips.

You know what he wants, the usual thank you that gets him off. But you have other plans.

“I don’t think I’ve learned my lesson,” you pant, getting back up onto your hands, assuming the position.

He grunts, taking a moment to look at your backside before inflicting the next set.

Crack.

Crack.

Fuck. Tears spring from your eyes as you blink wide trying to control your response.  This is right at the edge of your well-defined limit. These are the unyielding blows he’s only used twice before.

Crack.

Crack.

The next two are just as bad. You’re glad he can’t see your face because the tears would stop him. This isn’t the normal trickle from the corner of your eyes, this fucking hurts, these are tears of pain but there’s also something else underneath. The agony making the ache between your legs grow and pulse.

You want more.

“What do you say?” he asks again, a hand resting on your lower back as his thumb strokes back and forth.

“Harder.” The request comes as a plea, a desperate sound as you wiggle your ass back toward him. “Please, harder.”

There’s nothing and then he’s moving to the side, one hand pressing his weight into the base of your spine to keep you in place. His free hand is working at something and in a second your suspicions are confirmed when you hear his belt slip from its loops.

“Tell me what this is for?” he asks, the sound of leather on metal making you hyper-aware.

“I disobeyed,” you whisper, pressing your face into the couch. “I’m sorry, I need you to teach me a lesson.”

Then he gives you exactly what you need and you tip off the edge of that former limit and freefall into a new abyss of pleasure and pain.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

The leather of his belt bites into the tender skin of your ass with sickening precision. You cry out, flinching as each stroke crosses over the previous, the pain bordering on unbearable. While it hurts it’s also incredible. You feel more alive than you have in a long time, squirming under his unrelenting hand.

Your clit is throbbing, pussy clenching and nipples hard as pebbles. In this kind of heightened state of arousal, you want all the vicious, wild fantasies that normally only cross your mind right before you cum. He could do anything he wanted to you when you’re like this and you’d get off on it.

You’re not sure if you can take it, but you still ask again. Your fists clench into a ball, fingernails digging into your palms.

“Harder,” you beg.

Crack.

Crack.

The lick of the belt strikes twice more and you rock forward, feet kicking as you suck in a breath.

“Thank you,” wheezing you turn your face to the side to take a full breath, feeling your backside thump with each beat of your heart, now racing in your chest. “Thank you.”

His fingertips ghost across your ass as he admires his handiwork. He’s never left a mark on you before, at least not from a spanking, but this will. You can already feel it.

“Get on your knees,” he instructs, his hand on your arms to help you up. When he sees your face he stops for a fleeting moment, wiping away tears before helping you sink down onto the carpet. “Open your mouth.”

You look up at him, bracing both hands on his thighs and taking his cock into your mouth.

“Right down your throat, take it all,” Sam orders, two hands curling into your hair to keep his shaft deep. It’s been a while and you gag at first, finally relaxing your throat and letting him begin to fuck you slow and rooted. He makes strained sounds, grunts, and groans only loud enough for you to hear.

There’s only the sound of his enjoyment and the wet, squelch of him fucking your mouth. Spit drips down your chin, eyes watering as you fight to take him deeper and deeper until his balls are rocking into your chin with every stroke.  

You’re sitting on your heels and you can feel the aftermath of his belt as you suck his cock with enthusiasm. You probably won’t be able to sit tomorrow, but it's worth it. No one else can make you feel like this. There’s a freedom in submission, letting someone else take total control and releasing that part of your mind. There’s no thought, no outside desires, just this moment and the way your body responds to every touch and stroke.

His hips speed up and you feel him getting close. You prepare for the taste of him on your tongue but instead, he pulls out, leaving you a panting, drooling mess looking up for instruction.

“I’m not even close to done with you,” he snaps, fisting his wet cock from base to tip. “Get up and get yourself into the bedroom.”

-

Your hands are tied behind your back, fastened securely with that notorious belt at the base of your spine. One of his ties is wrapped around your eyes, and your own white panties are balled up and shoved in your mouth as a gag.

You’ve been sitting in his lap for the better part of an hour with his thick, hard cock deep in your cunt. He hasn’t let you move, just sitting with a slick pussy stretched around his girth as he plays with your tits.

Your right nipple is on fire. He’s been taking turns sucking on them, but your right has become his favorite as his teeth sink into the swollen flesh, drawing a muffled groan from your lips. Your other nipple is caught between his thumb and forefinger, pinching hard and tugging until you think you can’t take anymore.

And your ass is on fire, those lashes left pain that springs to life as the hair of his thighs scratches over your buttocks.

You’re so fucking wet you can feel the slippery slide of your thighs over his, your arousal leaking from around his cock as you squirm, muscles tightening around his length. If he even gets near your clit you’ll cum. There’ll be no asking for permission, you’re desperate and right on the edge of slipping into ultimate pleasure as his mouth pops off your nipple, and his fingers close around the wet peak.

He’s got both nipples between his fingers now, pinching hard and twisting slowly, back and forth as you groan and sweat on top of him.

Sam’s taking his time.

“I’m going to cum on your tits,” he promises, voice low he pulls both nipples upward until they’re painfully taught. “Or maybe your face...would you like that? Make you get on your knees with your hands tied behind your back and cum all over this pretty face...let you have a little to swallow.”  

“Ahmm,” you nod yes, hissing as he works your tits. Before Sam, you never really had the desire to have man a blow his load on you, but right now you’d beg him to cover you in his spunk.

“Do you want to cum?” He asks softly, swapping back to suck on a sore and aching nipple.

“Heeze!” You garble enthusiastically.

Reaching up he pulls the panties out of your mouth, letting you take a normal breath.

“Ask me for it,” he commands, slapping your breast lightly.

You wiggle and groan with his cock stuffed deep, more eager to please him than he could probably imagine.

“Please let me cum, Sam, please.” You’re not ashamed to beg, grinding your hips downward, beginning to rock back and forth. “I wanna cum and I want you to cum all over me. Please, I wanna taste you so bad. Please. Please.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting you off his cock with a flex of muscle. He hoists you easily over the side of the bed and deposits you onto the floor, reaching down to take your makeshift blindfold off.

You gaze up at him expectantly, sticking your tongue out as he thrusts his cock in your face and strokes himself. Moving closer he wedges a foot between your thighs, letting your clit rub against his shin bone.

“Make yourself cum,” he offers mercifully.

That wonderful combination of humiliation and desperation sets in as you urgently rub your cunt up and down his leg, leaving him wet with your slick. In no time you cum, jerking and moaning with your mouth open as your pussy clenches painfully around nothing. It’s an immense relief after all this time, humming and vibrating from head to toe.

Sam jerks himself faster until he’s spurting all over your face, coating you in hot ropes of seed, making sure to get some in your mouth. You’re still cumming as you swallow his spunk.  He lets the head of his dick tap your cheek, then slides between your lips for a gentle suck as he comes down from his own peak.

“Shit,” he sighs, finally pulling his cock from your mouth. “Here,” he drops down to his knees, releasing your hands then thumbing cum off your cheek. “I forgot how perfect you are.”

-

“We need a safeword,” Sam suggests, stepping into the shower behind you.

“Why?” you ask, looking back at him. “I guess I always thought our safe word was stop.”

“That’s fine, it can be, but we’ve never talked about it. I never thought we needed to be that...structured,” he explains, stepping under the spray.

“But we need one now?”

“We need one when you want me to leave those kinds of marks on you.” He nods toward your ass and you twist around trying to get a look at yourself.

“I don’t know what got into me, I just wanted it.” You blush, offering a small smile. “Too far?”

“No,” he shakes his head, slicking hair back with two hands. “I told you, as long as you’re getting pleasure from it, then I am too. But if we’re going to venture into a territory where you end up with bruises like that, I need to be one hundred percent sure that you want it. It would be easy for me to really hurt you, and I have no desire for that.”

“Okay,” you agree, looking him over from head to toe. You hope your new status, whatever that might be, will allow you this view more often. Sam is a beautiful man, long and lean and strong. He’s something to be admired and you’re the woman for the task. “Well, our safe word should be ‘stop’ then. No confusion.”

“Agreed,” he looks at you, water dripping from his hair and pulls you close, lowering his mouth down for a kiss that still feels forbidden. His lips are so soft compared to everything you just did, a sweet kiss that’s the cherry on top of a truly satisfying evening. When he pulls back he stays close, eyes sweeping over your face. “You should stay here with me until you find an apartment. I work so much you’ll have the place to yourself most of the time. I would like it if you stayed.”

“Then I’ll stay,” you confirm, leaning into him. “Just until I find something.”

-

Parts 20, 21 & 22 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

You love your job. Really you do. This is the best career you’ve had. It’s fulfilling and the administrative work can be rather fun. You adore every person in this office. You haven’t had many bad days or terrible encounters. You also get to work alongside your partner in crime. But this….this is one of the rare moments you have to convince yourself you love your job.

“Look it’s not that big of a deal.”   “Of course it’s a big deal! That’s my personal space that you’re invading. And last I checked, you don’t have to suffer the consequences of your own actions.”   “Okay, wait, wait.” You put out a hand, halting Yoongi and Sunyi’s argument with each other. “Let’s take a step back and assess the root of the problem.”   “The problem is that he microwaved something in my office and now I can’t even walk in without wanting to gag and puke!” Sunyi is both exasperated and hysterical.   “Ever heard of mung beans?” Yoongi’s brow lifts with a mocking smile that adds more fuel to the fire. “It’s quite healthy for you and it’s really soft when you heat them up.”   “They smell like death!” Her fist pounds against the conference table. Out of the corner of your eye and through the glass windows of the room, you catch Lisa and Dahyun looking over from their spot at the front desk. It’s like these two are in the middle of a divorce mediation appointment. “Why can’t you just use the microwave in the kitchen?”   “Jin microwaved popcorn. I don’t want my mung beans to smell like popcorn.”   “You are unbelievable! Get your own damn microwave!”   “Listen.” He spins in his swivel chair, pointing his index finger down at the wooden surface of the table. “Why do you have a microwave in your office anyways if no one can use it?”   “It’s my microwave in my office for my own convenience and for me to use. Not for you, Min!” she spits it out in animosity and her blood vessel at her temple threaten to burst. “Not for you or your damn mung beans! Stay out!”   “Alright!” You shout above them both, straining your voice and getting between them before it spirals more out of control. “Enough. If you can’t discuss the issue properly like adults without screaming then how are we supposed to do this?” A long sigh spills from your lungs. “I’ve heard both sides and Yoongi, I believe you should apologize to Sunyi. It is her microwave after all and you didn’t ask permission to use it. The microwave in the kitchen is working fine and that’s for everyone to use. There’s no need to barge into Sunyi’s office.”   “Okay.” He nods once. “I understand and I’m sorry, Sunyi.”   “That’s it?” The female lawyer looks at you, her arms in the air. “There’s no punishment for him?”   “Well...if there’s a second offense, I’ll look into proper consequences. It’s a warning for now. If you need air freshener, I have some you can borrow.”   Sunyi falls back, collapsing into the chair while rubbing her temples. “Oh my god.”   Today is a heavy session of conflict resolution. You and Hoseok were chatting about the two lawyers casually on the sofa one night and he decided to put an end to it once and for all. It was getting pretty ridiculous when over three quarters of the complaints were of Yoongi from Sunyi. There are a lot of investigations still pending, but it’s time to put everything in the open and find the root issue to address it and stop this nonsense. Hoseok was here, mostly to observe and give you moral support, but much to your dismay, the lawyer looked more entertained than anything.   “Okay. Let’s take a look at some older complaints.” Your foot moves the first box forward and you lean down, plucking a random page from the papers sandwiched inside, as if you were picking a name slip in the Hunger Games. Your throat clears. “On February sixteenth of this year, Yoongi was calling Sunyi by the name Sunny all day and confusing the client they were talking to.”   “It’s a cute nickname, right?” Yoongi asks no one in particular, more so a thought aloud.   “It’s not good if the client is confused,” Hoseok adds.   You put the filled form down. “Yoongi, you should call Sunyi by her legal name since that’s what she wants.”   “Okay.”   You turn to her. “Is that alright with you?”   “I...uh...yeah.” She nods, cheeks heating up, and no one notices her reaction except for Yoongi who smiles to himself.   You pick another. “Here’s one made on December twentieth. Yoongi was wearing too strong of a cologne and it was clogging up your nose and making it hard to breathe.”   Everyone turns to look at her, giving the female a chance for further explanation. But instead, Sunyi’s head is downcast and she fiddles with her fingers in her lap. “Ummm...can...can I actually redact that? I don’t mind...it doesn’t bother me anymore.”   “Redact?” Your brow shoots upwards. “Alright. Makes the job easier.”   Yoongi gazes at her, staring, and goosebumps raise along her skin from the mere intensity of his eyes. Unfortunately, you don’t notice the exchange. You’re too busy picking out another sheet while Hoseok is preoccupied checking you out and making you send a glare his way, to which he gives you a greasy smile and flirtatious wink.   “Okay. November second, Yoongi spammed you email after email asking if orange pee is normal.”   Hoseok butts into the conversation, concerned for his friend. “Did you go to the doctor?”   “Yeah and I’m fine.” He smiles.   Sunyi raises her hand timidly. “Can I withdraw that?”   “Sure.” You put it aside into the accumulating pile. “Here’s another one where you said he was out to get you and driving you insane—”   “Redact that please!” Sunyi interrupts and Yoongi smirks.   He’s still staring at her, elbow propped on the table, cheek in his hand. “I drive you insane?”   She ignores him, speaking directly to you. “I’d like to withdraw it.”   “Okay…”   Somehow Sunyi redacting a lot of the complaints, especially those that attack Yoongi’s general character, personality or behaviour. You’re baffled, wondering if something changed her mind or they reconciled on their own. Nonetheless, the session is fairly successful and the two of them are less hostile towards each other by the end.   Still, you privately tell Hoseok to talk to Yoongi since they’re both friends and you know the latter man respects the former. Hoseok agrees and in confidence speaks to Yoongi about not wasting time or bothering Sunyi anymore to which the dark-haired lawyer nods along with. Sunyi leaves soon after, thanking you and it’s a job well done.   You high five Hoseok but he considers it inadequate, pulling you aside when you’re both alone and he kisses you eagerly, murmuring about how hot you look when you’re working hard. You scoff, chiding for him to get back to work and he salutes you with a firm ‘yes, ma’am’.

The restaurant has a cozy atmosphere, dim lighting that comes from candlelights placed in the middle of tables. The chatter and murmur of conversations blurs together with the soft music, but it’s quieter in the secluded area. The scent of food wafting from the kitchen is appetizing and the quality is only imaginable considering the toasted bread and creamy butter the waitress brought out is already mouthwatering.   You imagine this would be a fancy, hot date between you and Hoseok. But nope. The person sitting across from you is Kim Seokjin who’s devouring the bread like a wild animal starved. You’re also jammed between Naul who sips on her glass of red wine, lost in thought like she’s seen too much in her lifetime, and Namjoon who has his fingers attached onto his phone.   Hoseok is sitting at the front of the table with Jimin, visibly more tortured than you are.   “Jin! What the fuck!” Lisa moves her arm away, shooting him a disgusting glare. “You’re slobbering! And butter just hit my fucking arm! Eat properly, you dog!”   “Look.” He chews, cheeks stuffed to the brim. “I haven’t eaten in literally five hours, okay? I’m starving and the food is taking forever!”   “Can we not swear in a fancy place like this?” Seulgi pleads with a long sigh. “It makes us look unsophisticated and uncultured.”   “Are we supposed to be sophisticated?” Taehyung moves his sunglasses down, looking over the rim of his dark shades.   “What the hell are you even wearing.”   “It’s fashion. Ask Namjoon!”   “Don’t ask me,” the legal assistant mutters while still tapping away at his phone.   Sunyi scoffs. “You’re wearing pajamas, Taehyung.”   “Pajamas are in. Right, Jungkook?”   “Uh...” The younger lawyer reaches for his glass of water, sipping through the straw and refusing to give an answer.   “I can’t believe you blow your money on shit like that.” Lisa shakes her head in disapproval, obviously judging his horrible tastes.   “Don’t tell me how to spend my money and I won’t tell you how to spend yours, Miss-I-get-a-pedicure-every-other-day.”   “Excuse you! It’s relaxing for me.”   “Well, shopping is relaxing for me.”   “I prefer online shopping,” Inyoung timidly murmurs, attempting to mediate the argument.   They ignore her, but Dahyun swoops in with a smile to acknowledge the accountant. “Same here.”   “Look, I’m sorry you fools have no fashion sense.” Taehyung leans back in his seat, arms on top of the other chairs beside him. “And if Namjoon was paying any attention, you would know that he has the exact same set as I do. We actually pre-ordered it together.”   Seulgi turns to her friend with a frown. “What are you doing, Namjoon?”   He doesn’t look away from the screen and she thinks he’s actively ignoring her, but then the corner of his mouth moves. “Texting my girlfriend.”   “What.” Everyone cranes their necks over to stare like they’re hyperactive dogs and he’s a bouncing squirrel. “Since when?”   “Since years ago. Haven’t I talked about her?” The paralegal pockets his mobile device and finally lifts his head, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose before it slips too far. “She plays in the philharmonic orchestra.”   “No, you haven’t talked about it,” Jin spits at his best friend, absolutely appalled and shocked at this news. “What the hell…”   “Yeah, she’s nice.” Namjoon shrugs nonchalantly and it doesn’t do much to lessen the shock.   But it goes quiet as they mull over the new revelation. And Jimin takes the opportunity to stand up. “Alright, alright. Let me get everyone’s attention again. Fellow employees of Jung and Park, do you know why we’re all here on this lovely evening?”   “Food?” Jin jokes, but he’s all too serious at the same time. He looks around and his eyes pin on a waiter holding a plate...only for that waiter to brush past and head to a different table. Dammit.   “No. We’re celebrating Hoseok’s and my anniversary!” There’s a pause. “Of being called to the bar!”   “Right.” Naul nods and holds up her glass, congratulating him before downing the rest of her drink.   Jimin is not impressed. “Can we get some more enthusiasm in here?”   “To Hoseok and Jimin!” Yoongi holds up his glass of water and everyone mimics him, raising their glass. Each gives one monotonous and short shout and then rehydrates themselves, making you laugh and Jimin snicker.   He opens his mouth, but gives up, taking a seat again with an exhale. His partner, on the other hand, grins. “Would anyone like to make a toast?”   “I will.” Taehyung volunteers, happily taking the spotlight as he stands and holds his water with a boxy smile. “I have been working at this firm ever since it started and I’m so glad that you dragged and threatened me to be here, Jimin. You were right. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed that tax firm….even if they paid me more and had better benefits and was a closer commute…..”   Both friends laugh and he turns to smile at the other lawyer. “Hoseok, you’re scary. When any of us make a mistake, you glare, but lately you’ve been a lot nicer and approachable. I just wanted to say that it’s okay if any one of us mess up. We’re human after all.”   No one knows where he’s going with the toast, only that he’s ballsy enough to be this direct to Hoseok and still stand in front of him. Though Taehyung has no malice in his voice, just idiotic joy and he inhales, looking carefully at everyone. “But I think we have to mention a very special someone who’s sitting at this table right now. Y/N!”   “Me?” You blink, dumbfounded.   “Yes.” His lips are tilted upwards, cheeks puffing out, too cute. “You are the backbone of our entire firm. I don’t know what we would do without you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying with us. Thank you for saving us from scary, scary Hoseok.”   He sits back down and Lisa jumps up. “My turn! First off, I want to congratulate my two bosses, Jimin and Hoseok. Jung and Park has been the best place I’ve ever worked at and even though I know my job is technically less important than all of yours, you have never once made me feel insignificant in the office. For that, I am grateful. Congratulations on your anniversary.”   “But…” She quickly moves on before anyone can stop her and applaud. “I also have to thank Y/N.” Lisa smiles and shifts to you, eyes twinkling. “I know we got off on the wrong foot and I wasn’t always the nicest. But you never once took that and used it against me. You listened to me when no one else would. You helped me during tough times. You feel like a ray of sun in the office. God knows before you came, everything was a mess.”   The receptionist laughs and the others agree, nodding along. “There were boxes everywhere and I couldn’t walk without bumping into anything. So, thank you, Y/N. You don’t know what you mean to all of us.”   She sits back down and Jimin protests, “Wait a minut—”   “Hold on.” Timid Inyoung stands, adjusting the length of her skirt before she picks up her glass and presses it to her chest, gazing at you endearingly. “I also want to thank Y/N.”   The girl is sincere and you’re smiling, tears filling your eyes, overwhelmed by their appreciation. “I know we’re all kind of doing this as a joke to take the light away from Jimin and Hoseok—” She glances at them with a soft laugh. “—but I really mean it. Y/N, you are the sweetest person I know and you were there for me during one of the scariest times of my life. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be right now. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. You’re the one who sticks up for everyone in this office and I don’t think we tell you that enough. You’re the one who time and time again proves that you genuinely care about us. And for that, thank you.”   You’re speechless. “You guys…”   Jungkook clears his throat. He steps up as well. “Y/N, I know you already know this but, you’re my role model. I aspire to be someone like you, someone who works hard and is so passionate about their work. The office has been changed for the better ever since you arrived. Jung and Park wouldn’t be able to function without your...uh..presence….”   He’s blushing from the attention and awkwardly shuffles back into his chair.   “You guys, let’s not take the light away from what we’re actually here for.” Seokjin grins mischievously, pushing away his hunger and chaotically getting up, scratching the leg chairs against the floorboards. He looks at the front, eyeing both lawyers. “Hoseok...Jimin…” They’re both expectant and Jin lifts his glass higher. “...thank you for hiring Y/N.”   There’s laughing and chuckling all around. Jimin opens his mouth to whine at the audacity to treat him like this, but unknowingly, you interrupt, getting to your feet and scanning your surroundings to imprint this memory into your mind. “You guys, I’m absolutely flattered.”   “You’re the ones who make me love my job so much. To be completely honest, before I came here, I was having a difficult time. I was applying everywhere trying to look for jobs, but I never expected to land my dream career. You’re the best bunch I’ve ever had the opportunity of working with. I’m so lucky and sometimes I wonder if I deserve it all.”   “But let’s not forget about Jimin and Hoseok.” All jokes aside, you shift to address each of them. “Jimin, you’re sweet and generous to everyone regardless of who they are. Congratulations on your anniversary for being called to the bar. Thank you for needing an HR rep.” The lawyer giggles, smiling wide, finally having his proper praise.   “And Hoseok.” Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re focused on him, tunnel vision, everything else blurring into the background. “I don’t think you’re mean at all. Well, maybe sometimes. You’re passionate about your job and I admire that. If people got to know you better, they’d know you’re literal sunshine on this planet. Thank you for hiring me.”   There’s a pause where you take a deep breath, eyes locked into his. “Thank you for picking me...out of everyone else.”   Your speech is coming to an end and you spin on your heel to address the rest of them. “Also, I’d like to use this opportunity to remind everyone that the fridge is a communal space. This has been an issue for a while now, but please do not eat food if it’s not labeled as yours and if you don’t know, it never hurts to ask.”   There’s a round of applause and you sit back down, hands falling into your lap, slightly embarrassed from the whole ordeal. No one notices, but you can feel Hoseok’s gaze on you.   Jimin grins. “There we go! Finally, a proper toast!”   And like perfect timing would have it— “Food’s here!” Jin’s announcement garners cheers as waiters and waitresses approach the table, passing around the food. People begin to dig in and you take one look around at each person’s face, all too happy to be here.   Your eyes meet Hoseok and you smile. He quirks his head to the side as well, staring and smiling back.   //   The pair of you return to the office. Giggles and drunken laughter echo down the halls, fluorescent lights flicker on slowly, flooding the entire floor with light. You teeter inside, throwing your bag and coat onto a chair at the empty front desk as he follows behind.   “Did you have a good time?”   You spin around, arms thrown around his neck. “Course I did.”   “Everyone loves you.” Hoseok grins, searching your face. “You took the spotlight.”   You laugh again, leaning closer and tilting your head. His breath skims along your skin, lips a millimeter away and his hands find purchase on your waist. Hoseok’s eyes become half-lidded, flickering down to your mouth and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Now you really can’t fire me, Jung. Else there’d be a riot.”   He laughs softly. “You know how to capture people, minx.” And Jung Hoseok leans in, breathing you in. His eyes are slightly open, watching your expression until he shuts them, relishing in the tender touch, enjoying the way your hands run through the strands of his hair, tugging ever so gently.   You pull away after ten seconds. “Wait, wait….we said we wouldn’t do it at the office again. What happens if we get caught?”   “You really think anyone would come here at this time?”   “I don’t know.” You giggle, feeling ticklish by the way his hands move along your side. You play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, lips pouty. “We should’ve just gone to your apartment instead.”   “That’s too far away.” He moves closer, body pressed on yours and the air becomes heated, making your skin feel hot. “Would rather have you right here, right now.”   Another giggle spills from your kiss-bitten lips and you draw closer as if you’re addicted to his scent, his hands. But then something stops you from planting a kiss on his mouth. There’s a subtle clatter, like the sound of thunder, but quieter and yet, closer. “Hoseok.”   “Hmm?” He’s too busy staring, touching, taking you all in to notice.   “What was that?”   You both crane your necks over. He holds your hand, stalking the noise. It’s probably a bad idea. You’ve watched enough horror movies, and you don’t know what to do if the office is haunted; knowing Hoseok, he’d probably pick up and move Jung and Park to a warehouse instead.   The noise comes from Taehyung’s office and you frown. Hoseok extends his hand, fingers wrapping around the knob, and he throws the door open. It crashes against the wall. You gasp. Eyes wide. Jaw dropping. There are clothes all over the ground, a small lamp fallen on the carpet as well, probably the noise you heard.   More importantly, on top of Taehyung’s desk, with papers amok is Sunyi and Yoongi wrapped around each other.   “Oh my god!” — “Holy fuck!” — “Don’t stare!” — “Sorry!”   It’s horrifying. You wish you saw a ghost instead.   //   The need to wash your eyes is all too high. But you compose yourself, trying to act like an adult, especially in this moment. You’re sobered up. If possible, the intoxication has been scared out of you.   The conference room is deathly quiet. Hoseok called for an emergency meeting and the two lawyers are barely put together. There are purple and blue hickeys all over Sunyi’s throat, her blouse still unbuttoned. Yoongi has lipstick stains all over his mouth and cheeks, hair riled up like he was electrocuted. It’s so unbearably uncomfortable that you feel yourself dying inside.   “How long has this been going on for?”   You’re the first to start off with a crystal clear voice, enunciating each syllable with your hands clasped on top of the table. “It’s complicated.” Sunyi is mortified, face reddened, head downcast. “It’s been...on and off.”   “When’s the first...time then?” It’s not like you want to intrude into their lives or overstep your boundaries, but this is unfortunately part of your job. You can’t pretend like you didn’t see it.   “Two years ago,” Yoongi states plainly, more composed than the female beside him.   “Years?” Hoseok’s brows shoot upwards, wholly surprised.   “This is purely a sexual relationship,” Sunyi scrambles to explain as if it can save the situation.   “Yeah right.” He scoffs, looking at you to explain. “We’re dating.”   She automatically protests, voice moving up a pitch, sharp and offended, “No, we’re not!”   “Then what do you describe going out ten times to movies and dinners? What? Are we friends?”   “It’s not dating. It’s just...hanging out...or rather, being at the same place by coincidence.”   Yoongi scoffs again, ignoring her. “We’re living together.”   “No!” She sighs. “I just have a lot of my stuff at his apartment and it happens to be closer to work than my place and my landlord is an asshole—”   “Alright.” Hoseok stops them before he gets a headache. He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting them off the hook considering how late of a night it is. “Obviously you need to talk to each other and figure this out. I don’t care what you guys are doing on your own time and neither does Jimin, but we need to know to prevent liability issues, okay? You’re both lawyers and you should understand that. So go home, figure it out, and in the morning, go report to HR.”   Sunyi nods frantically, grabbing her coat and covering herself up, walking out before she’s humiliated any further. But as you all make your way, Yoongi’s cat-like eyes are sharp and narrowed into slits. It sees right through you. “But...why did you two show up?”   He inhales a shallow breath and the corner of his mouth tugs, like they’re tempted to pull into a smirk. He knows.   “I had to pick something up.” Hoseok swallows hard, pupils diverted elsewhere.   Yoongi smiles and he glances at you for a millisecond. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”   “Goodnight, Yoongi.”   The pair of you watch them leave, still unable to wrap your minds around this bizarre development. Then, a tired exhale leaves through the seams of your lips. “I’m going to have to do another presentation on office romances and not having sex here, right?”   “Probably.” Hoseok nods, still looking ahead at the elevator doors with you. “But right now, we have unfinished business.”   “If you think for one second that after that we’re going to your office—”   “To my apartment we go!” Hoseok laughs, clutching your hand in his and dragging you off as your mouth curls and a soft scoff leaves it.   The trip to his place isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Well, considering Hoseok kicks the front door open and he’s carrying you. You didn’t have to take many steps, but he was slightly struggling, almost crashing into the wall and wobbling from side to side. “Oof.”   “I thought I was light as a feather, Hobi.” You make fun of him, tugging on his chubby cheek and mimicking his words from inside the apartment elevator.   Still, the fool of a lawyer manages a laugh and a grin. “You’re heavy as one brick. So not that much.”   “Lovely. Comparing me to a brick.”   Once he’s made it to the bedroom, he throws you onto the mattress, making your body bounce once and you feel absolutely giddy from head to toe. He strips off his jacket before jumping on top of you, causing laughs to bubble out. You complain he’s too heavy and too warm, pushing him off.   But even when Hoseok’s moved aside, he’s relentless, arms wrapping around your abdomen, nuzzling into you. A quiet yawn leaves him and he cuddles into your body, head propped on top of your crown. “Y/N…”   “Hmm?” Your lashes flutter, finally simmering down.   “Wanna just sleep instead? You’re too soft to let go. Like a pillow.”   “Okay.” Your hands card through the strands of his hair, patting and petting him. The man who’s melted into putty hums in satisfaction, reminiscent of a cat being lulled by their owner. “But Hoseok.”   “Yeah?”   “I still need to brush my teeth. And take off my makeup. And change into pajamas.”   There’s silence.   You wonder if he’s fallen asleep. “Hoseok?”   “Yes, ma’am.” He pulls away, albeit reluctantly and obviously tired. Yet somehow, he manages to scoop you up in his arms again, carrying you into his bathroom to get ready for bed. He’s all too silly and as you laugh, you wonder how it’s possible sunshine has been encapsulated into one man.

[thatlittledandere]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 31 and 40 for that shipper ask meme (sorry for picking so many but those questions are GOOD)

You're right, they absolutely are. I'm sorry in advance that this is gonna be LONG and I'm on mobile so I can't even add a read more;;

1. Talk about the first ship you ever had

So I'm SURE there were relationships I was invested in in movies and cartoons I watched as a child (I've always been a sucker for romance, even though there was that period when I didn't want to admit it) but I can't remember anything from very far back;; So it was either Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter or Ichigo and Masaya from Tokyo Mew Mew, whichever I read first.

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life

GOSH. You can't do this to me. I guess Romione because it was the time in my preteens when I was becoming more aware of... stuff, in general, abs the two cemented my love for friends-to-lovers. Then Ioryuu, because I've never been AS invested in and passionate about a ship before and likely never will. Nothing can compare to that intensity and ngl I miss it;; I miss the genuine hype I felt in my heart that made me interact with people and make things. So many things. I honestly can't think of a third one with such a lasting impact, sorry;;

3. What's your current OTP?

I imagine Souyo scenarios in my head every night before falling sleep and every morning after waking up, this is not a joke not an exaggeration. I still feel a little traitorous saying this on tumblr but their dynamic IS somewhat similar to the way I see Ioryuu so-

4. What's your current NoTP?

I don't think I have one? I have dislikes, some of them strong, but I don't see any of them often enough to be, like, actively angry. I have better uses for my time than willingly exposing myself to stuff I don't like.

5. Do you have any poly ships?

Not generally, juggling two characters is enough work lol. The only poly ships I've ever really actively shipped are Niels, Duncan and Natalie from the web comic Niels And the Gang by humon and Kinatsuen from Boueibu, but neither are actively on my mind much these days.

8. Have you ever shipped yourself with a character?

BOY HAVE I EVER. I've seen someone on tumblr have a side blog for self-shopping and not gonna lie, it's an excellent idea. My late teens were spent reading character x reader fics on Quotev and I started my fic career with the same genre. I don't really know what to do with myself when I DON'T actively ship myself with a character, which is my state of being now that Yosuke surpassed Yoosung as my favorite character;; Ibushi and Yoosung are the biggest ones but man oh boy I have shipped myself with characters from early age and I'm showing no signs of stopping! There's a reason that I main dating sims.

15. Have you ever "shipped at first sight"?

Not for long. I SUCK at forming first impressions. Usually if I start thinking I'll ship something, I end up not being so invested in it after all, and instead shipping something I swore off at first lmao. Which leads us to...

16. Talk about a ship you initially disliked

As a rule of thumb, all of them. I don't understand HOW it keeps happening but somehow almost all the ships I truly care/d about (that I didn't start shipping through osmosis before knowing them in the source material) started out as something I thought I "wouldn't be able to get behind." Gajevy. Shikatema. Sasunaru. Doctor/Rose. Karabita. Atsutodo. Kiribaku. Yoozen. Enatsu. Freaking IORYUU. EVEN SOUYO. IT'S BEEN YEARS I REALLY SHOULD KNOW THE PATTERN BY NOW

17. Talk about a pairing you've stopped shipping romantically

Like, I started to think they're better as friends after all? I guess NaLi. Then again, I mostly only shipped them out of spite in the first place because I wanted a counter for N/a//Lu, which I never liked at all;;

20. Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping

Now this time I can say for sure that there isn't one. I can't come up with ships myself and stay on board if there isn't content for it, canon or otherwise;; It's not a conscious decision or anything, it's just how my mind works. I get attached to stuff by exposure, whether from fans or the source material, and if the source material has enough content for two characters for me to pick up on and become interested, it's guaranteed to be enough to become a somewhat popular ship.

21. Is there a ship you just don't get, but have nothing against?

Actually... That's the extent I go to with notp'ing these days. I'm passionate about the right to ship whatever you want so by proxy I can't have anything "against" a ship, even if the sheer thought of it existing makes me nauseous. And I know how to think from points of view other than my own, so I can usually see the appeal, even if it appeals to me personally less than eating dog shit while walking barefoot on rusty nails that are also on fire.

That said, the only ships I have on my Tumblr blacklist are Yoo//ra/n and Suza//lu/lu because they're both popular ships for characters whose tags I am/was following and therefore get suggested a lot even if I want following anyone who ships then. Oh, and all B/LMa//tsu ships! I generally can't feel good about incestuous ships, but can and will fight for their shippers' right to do as they please as long as they stay respectful. (never saw blmatsus who weren't respectful. saw a plethora of anti-blmatsus who were absolute demons. actually the reason i moved away from the last remnants of my anti mindset was that i didn't want to be associated with THOSE anti-blmatsus, when the shippers they wanted dead were all such sweet people. food for thought.)

22. Which of your ships have the best chemistry?

All of them?? Lmao I don't understand this question, isn't shipping all about liking the chemistry between characters? Or the potential for it I guess, in which case the chemistry is whatever you want it to be, which is great B) I'm sorry I keep accidentally dodging questions I'm bad at choosing examples from a long, unordered list

23. Which of your ships deserve better writing?

Hhhhhhh I shipped Jerza for years and was still unsatisfied with their ending, Jellal didn't get to heal enough and we didn't really see them working through their past in an effective way and getting comfortable around each other. It's like they were supposed to be friends to enemies to lovers but the last part didnt really develop and their relationship stagnated at the stage were they were both just permanently awkward out of regret, and couldn't bring themselves out of it even though everything was forgiven forever ago. Or I've forgotten a lot of stuff that happened. Very likely. Is your a case of bad writing or good writing not working out the way I wanted it to? You're asking the wrong person.

25. Have you ever shipped a pairing before you even started watching the show/movie simply because of gifs/graphics or similar?

EYUP. Harumichi was my otp for like a whole year before I saw a single episode with them lol. It was crazy, but it was REAL. I've also went into shows already paying attention to things I knew my friends/people I follow shipped, kind of hoping I'd get into it.

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic I'm writing these questions down from screenshots and I cropped the rest of this one out by accident rip

Eeeh I go for the obvious. Best friend pairs, obvious pining, some rivalry with sexual tension, though I don't really know what to do with those. Then there's the fact that I never see it coming sick Persona 5 reference bro and start shipping the couple I thought "should just be friends" at first. This is more about my relationship to the ships than their dynamic but it's very constant...

27. Is there a ship you've shipped for most of your life?

Hmmm well I got into HP and started shipping Romione sometime in mid elementary school so it's definitely been more than half my lifetime since, but I don't really know if I "ship it" anymore. I didn't start disliking them or anything but for me, "shipping" is an active intrest in a fictional relationship, so if it reaches the stage where I like it, in theory, but I don't have the feels, it doesn't really count. That's why I can say I like ships without shipping them. It's gotta be actively on my brain, man.

31. Talk about one of your favorite headcanons for a ship you love

I haven't mentioned Kannao once, which is criminal. So here's some of what I imagine their future to be like :D I've been getting new Persona followers recently so here's something for you to unfollow me over lmao

So first of all I ignore the canon that Naoto goes back to the city for her detective work after her first year of high school, shhh she stays in Inaba, only taking the occasional jobs. She and Kanji start dating during the spring break before their second year and get more comfortable with each other, so that the next summer they're still cute and very much themselves (which means somewhat reserved) but not as awkward anymore :) I haven't thought about what happens after they graduate but they get married in their early 20s and have a son <3 (Chie and Yukiko adopted their daughter only slightly earlier. They may or may not have had a bit of a competition going on) ((yes Souyo are very much together but if they end up having children I haven't thought about it it's later))

Kanji manages the textile shop and Naoto helps when she's free from detective stuff. They live in Inaba but Naoto is away quite often for her gigs;; She takes up a few jobs less when Kouta is little though so he wouldn't feel less close to his Mom than his Dad.

Both Kanji and Naoto suffered from unfair expectations growing up, so they try their best to make up for it with Kouta's upbringing. They want him to feel comfortable being himself and free to express himself the way he wants; they make sure he knows he'll always be loved and supported, and to never be ashamed of who he is. As a child it doesn't even occur to him that many social norms and social expectations exist, because Naoto and Kanji pretty much let him do whatever as long as he isn't hurting himself or anyone else. They might go a little overboard though, giving into Kouta's whims without much consideration at all. The Amagi Aunties enforce rules and keep kids grounded in reality much better lmao

40. If you could change one thing about your otp, what would that be?

HMNGHNMHGNMGH I WAMT YOSUKE'S INTERNALIZED BULLSHIT ACKNOWLEDGED!! It's there AtlUS!! Stop pretending oh my god.... I love the Dancing All Night story mode (so far. I am by no means done); Yosuke gets cool moments and Yu's internal monologue really shows how much he appreciates him. The dynamic is so much better than with a silent protagonist, and thank god they didn't go with the tactless anime Yu (as fun as he is). I know there are a bunch of nods to the cut romance across spinoffs but mannnn... I wish they were more serious about it. At this point it's not even that far-fetched to think Yosuke has feelings for Yu that he may or may not be aware of, and I know that Yu as the player character can't be too tied down to one option in canon, but still... Even the clown gets tired of jokes at some point. One can dream.

40 ship questions

[entwinedmoon]

John Torrington: Life in a Northern Town

(Previous posts 1, 2)

What was John Torrington’s life like before he joined the Franklin Expedition? There are a few things we know for sure, a handful that we can infer, and everything else is speculation.

So what do we know for sure?

We know he was born and raised in Manchester. During his lifetime, the industrial revolution was already in full swing, and Manchester held a significant role in that. The majority of cotton manufacturing in the UK took place in and around Manchester, so much so that it earned the nickname “Cottonopolis.” Steam engines powered the cotton mills, choking the air with coal dust and smoke. People came from across the British Isles to find jobs in Manchester, causing its population to boom in the early part of the nineteenth century. I believe William Torrington was one of these jobseekers, as a later census record that I think refers to him indicates that he’s not native to Manchester. I have yet to be able to find his baptism registry, but there a few possible records that could be his, and none of the possible William Torringtons that I’ve found were born in Manchester. But what exactly was life like in Manchester at this time?

Ask Friedrich Engels.

Yes, that Friedrich Engels, Karl Marx’s BFF and co-author of The Communist Manifesto. Before he met Marx and wrote one of the most influential—and notorious—political documents in history, Engels wrote another book, The Condition of the Working Class in England. It was first published in 1845, the same year Torrington would leave Manchester for his fateful trip to the Arctic. The book was written when Engels lived in Manchester from 1842 to 1844, and it was heavily inspired by what he saw during his time there.

Engels wrote of disease and terrible living conditions in large cities such as Manchester, with mortality rates rising sharply since industrialization and urbanization had begun. People lived in poverty, they suffered from poor health and lacked autonomy, and they were at the mercy of heartless employers who exploited them. Factory accidents, pollution—especially terrible air quality due to coal smoke from the factories, overcrowding, overwork, and other deplorable conditions affected the working class while wealthy business owners profited at their expense. Basically, all the negative stereotypes of the industrial age that we think of, such as Victorian factory owners who employ child workers and pay absurdly low wages to people living in rundown tenements, who will inevitably die of disease while coughing on the ever-present coal smoke? That’s Manchester, baby!

Now, this was, of course, merely Engels’ interpretation of the situation, but one based on observations of the real conditions that many people lived in at the time. Of course, not everyone suffered thanks to industrialization. The burgeoning middle class benefited, as did wealthy people such as Engels’ own father, who owned multiple textile factories. But it’s clear that those of the working class did experience some pretty horrifying living and working conditions.

John Torrington was a member of the working class.

We know that his father, William, was a coachman, a working-class position. A coachman is exactly what it sounds like—someone who drove a coach, a type of horse-drawn vehicle. This was a position that required little education, as William was unable to write his own name as of 1823. (The fact that he could sign his name in a later document is interesting, and suggests he received at least some level of education as an adult, possibly personal tutoring from an acquaintance, an employer, or even his wife Sarah, who could sign her name.) The term often is used to refer to a private coachman (essentially, the precursor of the chauffeur), who served wealthy families and would also be responsible for overseeing the stables. But in a bustling city like Manchester, there was plenty of need for public transportation, so it’s possible William worked as the Victorian equivalent of a taxi driver.

Coming from a working-class background, Torrington would have had limited schooling, but we do know he received enough to be able to sign his name, since he signed the Allotment book for the Franklin Expedition. His signature on that document, by the way, is my favorite, because he ran out of room and his name was going to spill over into the next column, so he wrote his name like this:

John Torring

             ton

He ran out of room, and on an official naval document—a now very important historical document that serious researchers pore over—he wrote his name as

John Torring

              ton.

Never have I identified so strongly with a dead Victorian sailor.

But anyway…

Torrington clearly received some education, although it’s hard to say how much. In 1833, money was allocated to build schools for the poor throughout England, and there were churches that taught poor children in Sunday schools, but education for the lower classes was limited. And girls often received no education at all. Torrington’s sister, Esther, for instance, could not sign her name, so whatever education he was able to gain was not shared equally (which is a shame, since her mother had clearly received some form of education, but Esther did not share the same opportunity).

Speaking of 1833, there’s another aspect of Torrington’s life we do know about for a fact: He lost his mother.

Sarah Shaw Torrington died in 1833. The cause of death is not listed on her burial record, but in Victorian Manchester there were plenty of ways for people to die. For instance, in 1832, Manchester was struck by a massive cholera outbreak, starting in May and lasting into January of 1833. Perhaps she was one of the epidemic’s last victims. But without any records, no one can say for sure.

She was buried in Prestwich on February 3, but the exact day of death is not shown. Her age is listed in the record as 27, which means that she probably was born either in 1805 or 1806. The record lists her abode as Prestwich, the same place she was buried. Prestwich is considered part of the Greater Manchester area, but it is not within the city itself, which means the Torringtons must have moved. It doesn’t seem that uncommon for the working class to move around, from what I’ve seen of census records. However, William Torrington (and I assume, his family) lived in Manchester in 1823, 1825, and later in 1836. Why would the family move to Prestwich in the intervening years only to move back to Manchester?

I started to think that maybe Sarah was originally from Prestwich. Perhaps the family had moved in with her parents when she became sick, which is why they are listed as living there.

Looking at baptism records, there were a lot of Sarah Shaws born in 1805 and 1806. Some of them were born in or around Manchester, some outside of the area. When I searched for a Sarah Shaw born in Prestwich around the same time, I found precisely one record. There was a Sarah Shaw baptized on July 22, 1804, in Prestwich. Being born in 1804 would have made her 28, going on 29, in 1833, but as I’ve mentioned before, ages weren’t always recorded exactly. Of course, I can’t prove that this is the Sarah Shaw—and there are numerous candidates who better fit the age given on her death certificate—but it’s a possibility. We may never know if this is Torrington’s mother or not, but I’m putting it on the maybe pile, not just because Prestwich is where she’s buried, but also because of another intriguing factoid: her parents’ names were John and Esther.

Again, that’s not proof of anything and could be purely coincidental. However, this new information made me reconsider another record. William Torrington’s indictment lists two sureties, one of whom is George Calvert, and the other was Esther Shane, a widow from Manchester. After finding the record for the Prestwich Sarah Shaw, I wondered if perhaps the name of Shane had been mistranscribed on the original document. What if the name was recorded incorrectly and it should say Shaw?

This is pure speculation, of course, but if this actually is Esther Shaw, mother of Prestwich Sarah, then that would mean Sarah’s mother was now widowed and living in Manchester. And acting as surety for her indicted son-in-law. If so, did she live with the Torringtons during this time? Did she help out with her grandchildren when they were growing up? These are some interesting possibilities, but they all hinge on a name being wrong when I have no reason whatsoever to think it was written wrong. This is just me grasping at straws, trying to cram the puzzle pieces together, but it’s a fun thought experiment, even if that’s all it is.

Torrington would have been seven when Sarah died, and Esther only six. That’s a young age to lose a parent, and it must have been rough on William suddenly being the sole caregiver of two young children. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t take long for William to remarry. On June 21, 1836, William married Mary Hoyle, making her John and Esther’s stepmother and the newest member of the Torrington clan.

But Mary may not have been the only one joining the Torrington household on that day. The marriage certificate lists Mary as a widow. Hoyle is her married name, and for a while I couldn’t find her maiden name, ironically making it difficult to find her first marriage certificate and therefore her first husband—and any children they may have had. Recently, however, I found a family tree on Ancestry that says Mary’s maiden name was Warren. The baptism record for a couple Mary Warrens matches other records that I long-suspected referred to her in her later years, and a Mary Warren did indeed marry a man named Hoyle—Jonathan Hoyle—in 1823, the same year William and Sarah married. Jonathan Hoyle was also a coachman, like William, which makes me wonder if they knew each other. Were the Warren Hoyles friends of the Shaw Torringtons? Who knows?

Since this is relatively new information for me, I haven’t researched it as fully as I have some other records, and there are a few discrepancies I haven’t been able to tease out. For one, Mary’s baptism took place in Manchester Cathedral, (as did her marriage to Jonathan Hoyle), however, her marriage certificate and a later census record I believe belongs to her says she was from Ashton-under-Lyne. Ashton is also considered part of the Greater Manchester area, like Prestwich, so it’s not that far from Manchester itself. Maybe there was a lot of moving going on? Also, I have yet to find Jonathan Hoyle’s death record. He must have died, since Mary was a widow, but I can’t find the record. I don’t know how to explain these discrepancies, and I haven’t had a chance to investigate further. Still, it looks like I found the right Mary, despite the problems. UPDATE: I have since learned that the Collegiate Church in Manchester held a monopoly over the licenses required to perform baptisms and marriages during this time. This means that many people from Greater Manchester travelled to the city for these services, so their records would seem to indicate they were from Manchester when in fact they were from one of the surrounding townships. This probably explains these discrepancies. (It also raises the question, what about the Torringtons' records? Did they actually live in Manchester or in one of the surrounding towns?)

Mary and Jonathan had two children, both baptized in Ashton-under-Lyne (definitely some moving around going on). Their oldest was William, baptized January 2, 1825 (and therefore most likely born in late 1824), followed by James Warren Hoyle, baptized February 11, 1827. If I’ve found the right Hoyles (and I’m going to keep saying if because I haven’t been able to verify it), then Mary brought two sons with her into the Torrington family, giving John and Esther two stepbrothers—one older and one younger than the two Torrington kids.

How well did these two families integrate? Did John and Esther get along with their new brothers? Did Mary mind doubling her brood? We’ll probably never know.

But what happened to Torrington after this major life event? What did he do as he came of working age but before he joined the Franklin Expedition?

I have no idea.

I mean, I have some idea, based on speculation and probabilities, but no firm facts. Ideally, his occupation would have been listed in the 1841 census. Except he’s not in the 1841 census.

There are some John Torringtons in the 1841 census. In fact, there’s one that I briefly thought was him because the age was oh-so-close to Torrington’s:

FYI, the occupation listed of MS meant Male Servant, which doesn’t sound like a great career, but there are a couple problems here. One, this guy is 17 years old, while my boy should have been 15 going on 16 in 1841. One year off isn’t so bad, which is why I thought it might be him, but it’s not perfect. Two, this Torrington is living in St George Hanover Square in Middlesex, not Manchester. Torrington may have moved, of course, there’s no way to know if he lived in Manchester his whole life, but there’s something that’s not adding up here.

Wrong age, wrong place. Sound familiar?

Yeah, that’s got to be good old JT1, the Torrington born in Norfolk in 1824. Which means, my boy isn’t in the census.

There are several reasons why someone might not be in the census. They could be out of the country, or traveling overnight, or staying in part of the country where the records for 1841 are missing. Heck, the name could even be misspelled. A simple explanation would be that if Torrington were working on a ship and was away at sea, then that would explain why he’s not there. There’s just one problem with that.

His family isn’t in the census either.

Esther’s not in the census, Mary’s not in the census, even William doesn’t appear to be in the census. (Now, there is a William Torrington in Manchester in 1841, but he’s a little younger than I suspect Torrington’s father to be, and he’s listed as a laborer, which is the same occupation as JT1’s father. He’s also in jail. Considering William’s previous run-in with the law, this isn’t so surprising, but I don’t think this is the right William.)

The only members of the family who may be in the census are Mary’s sons from her first marriage, William and James Hoyle. A James Hoyle is listed as 14, right next to a William Hoyle, age 15. James would have been 14 in 1841, but William should have been 16 or so. However, in the 1841 census, ages for anyone older than 15 were supposed to be rounded down to the nearest multiple of 5 (not everyone did this, clearly, as JT1 is listed as 17), so this could still be him.

William and James are listed together at the same address, and they both have the occupation of “cotton piercer.” I can’t find information on what a “piercer” did, but a cotton piecer was a common job for children in the cotton industry, which involved repairing broken threads during spinning. The Hoyle boys are in Ashton-under-Lyne and are listed among a large number of people who don’t share the same last names. Were they living in Ashton while Mary lived in Manchester? Who were they staying with? Why aren’t they living with the Torringtons?

Which brings us back to the original question, where was the Torrington family? Were the Torrington’s staying overnight somewhere else? Were they travelling? Why was the family separated from the Hoyle boys?

We may never know the answers to these questions, unfortunately. And we may never know what Torrington did before he joined the Franklin Expedition, but there are a few possibilities based on what we know of his job on the expedition.

But that is for my next post.

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Torrington Series Masterlist

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 22: Cleansing Grimfire

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Coven Elders deal with the consequences of their actions. Taylor and Elric participate in a father-son activity. The Council takes some responsibility.

[READ IT ON AO3]

The bloodwraith’s neck cranes back at an unnatural angle and it howls to the wind, bloodstained talons reaching out and forward; compelled to attack.

His breath catches in his throat and Taylor squeezes his eyes shut. He braces himself—

For the pain that never comes. The icy grasp of a fate worse than death that he still can only imagine; still must only imagine.

Peeks a tentative eye open to the sight of Cassiopeia’s severed hand stretched out in Vera’s quivering grasp.

A firsthand witness to how the small and humble sparks in Vera’s breast ignite into a blaze that consumes her soul.

“You will not.”

The entire Garden watches in bated awe as the wraith obeys. Hovers back far enough where Taylor can breathe without the scent of rancid flesh in his mouth.

Oh he’s still scared shitless — and rightly so. But just like he can feel the bad things hovering in an aura around them so too can he feel the good.

And the sudden rush of adrenaline, defiance, bravery in Vera is incredible.

The Elders are still together, still united, but their understanding is unmistakable. They know whose hand Vera wields. They realize what has changed with its discovery.

The only thing that hasn’t settled in to their collective hive mind is that it’s over.

“You killed Cassiopeia because she was the necromancer — she was the one in control of whatever creature she summoned and you needed that control to be yours and yours alone. You didn’t realize that you screwed yourselves.”

“‘Cause they were busy screwin’ everyone else,” huffs Nik behind him.

Millet has gone pale, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced against her almost skeletal pallor. “Her body became a totem.” Is that a hint of resignation in her tone? Or maybe just wishful thinking.

“Specifically her hand,” Cadence confirms with a nod, “like the trophies Reimonenq kept in his mortal life. If you had conjured up any random malevolent soul instead of going for sick, twisted irony maybe it would have been different but…”

“But she who holds the Hand holds the power.”

There was a lot about the plan that had been left up in the air. When, or if, the Coven Elders would even arrive. If they would summon the wraith immediately or attack in some other form. If there was even the smallest chance they could be convinced to stop the needless violence; their grab for power stayed in favor of the cooperation that should have happened in the first place.

But the one thing they had all been forced to agree upon was the one thing no one wanted to think about.

They had the totem, now what?

An eye for an eye was the most logical, solved the most problems. But then how were they any better than the Elders?

They may have been forced to agree but that didn’t mean it was without argument.

Cadence had been the last one to exit the underground tomb, his gruesome work finally done. Cassiopeia’s hand had been wrapped in Cal’s flannel and held out between them all as an unholy relic.

It made sense for Nik to take it — for a Nighthunter to be the one to make the final blow whatever that blow may entail.

Instead he held it out to Vera; insisted she take it. “You’re the one who’s suffered the most here. He’s your kin.” And polite Vera, kind Vera; Vera who had been tangled up in this out of fear and a desire to save Kristin and had resigned herself to suffering a curse she could never lift, took the bloodied bundle and made her peace with accepting the burden.

Never said what she planned on doing — it was just assumed she’d send the creature after the Elders; wield the totem the way a hero wields a sword to deal the dragon a final blow.

Maybe it was something Vera didn’t know herself. Couldn’t know until she was in the moment and had to make the choice before hesitation was their undoing.

Well they’re in that moment now. Taylor watches her square her shoulders, her bare hands grasping real flesh for only the second time in her entire life, and knows she’s chosen.

The wind rustles her curls silently as Vera holds out the severed hand in offering to the bloodwraith.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The words come out of Daniels’ mouth but they don’t sound like her at all — there’s no restraint in her fear now.

Vera doesn’t deign the woman worth an answer. Just watches, waits for the creature to move. But even it doesn’t seem to understand what her intentions are.

Vion sneers — but even that wavers. “Foolish mortal child. If you wish to live you will keep that thing away from its totem.”

“I won’t do it —” —she whips around to Taylor behind her, tears stinging where they well at her eyes— “— I can’t do it, Tay. I can’t kill them.”

She can’t. If she does, she’s no better than they are. She’s the monster her mother is, the monster her ancestor is. Whether it’s true or not it’s how she feels so he feels it too.

“Baby girl if there was ever a time to grow a spine… now’s it.”

Vera stares over his shoulder to her mother’s wavering figure straining down the garden path.

They knew taking her out of the hospital was a necessary evil. She was the wraith’s last true victim. Her presence made some of the uncertainties of the plan less so because they knew it would come to finish what it started. But the fight, rushing her out of the fray; it’s proving to be too much. Ashen-faced and every muscle in her body screaming let me rest but she doesn’t.

Lady Smoke does not run from her enemies.

“Momma…”

Yet even with everything they’ve been through, despite her daughter refusing to leave her hospital bedside, there’s the furrow of command in her hardened face. She looks at Vera in the same way she had back at her club. Not a mother; a mob boss.

“Tonya, don’t —” Katherine tries to stay her advance but she’s shrugged off; hand batted away like a bothersome fly.

“Your whole life you’ve been runnin’ from who you are, Vera Claire. I shouldn’t have indulged it, that’s my sin to bear; lettin’ you make yourself weak. But now there’s lives at stake, includin’ your own. Maybe you still ain’t got the sense to use your gift for me but would you forgive yourself if your weakness killed everyone else?”

Vera can’t believe it. Frankly neither can anyone else. “What — Momma, stop. Why’re you doin’ this now of all times?”

“Because you’ve always been too stubborn to see what needs to be done!”

“No one else needs to die!”

“Then they’ll kill you first!”

“I won’t do it, goddammit —” if Smoke thought scolding her daughter would shame her into acting she has another thing coming, every word pulls Vera back from the murderous edge, “— I won’t be you! I refuse! I refused then and I refuse now!”

Vera’s voice cracks and the dam breaks; tears down her cheeks with the hovering shadow of pure evil behind her and a lifetime of rage and loathing coming out at the wrong moment but it wasn’t she who chose to rip open these old wounds now — so why should she have any mercy, any sympathy for the frail woman who did this to herself.

“We were both here that night. But it went after you — and if you weren’t so obsessed with gettin’ back your damn Touch you’d realize why that is. I won’t do it. I won’t take a life, even like this. I won’t be you — I won’t be a monster.”

And it’s final this time; when she turns away from her mother to face her decision right in the bloodstained face. “Derek Reimonenq was a monster too. I won’t use him and I won’t become him to get what I want. I know there’s another way.”

“You know nothing of the craft,” all of Daniels’ malice shoved into one last push; one last attempt. Her hands twitch at her side but the witch knows better than to act. Acting runs the risk of losing the totem holding the bloodwraith bound — or the wraith itself.

All her power and all the misery she’s orchestrated up to now and she’s reduced to nothing but words. Words that cause Vera to look up at her with pity. The ultimate insult.

Taylor sucks in a breath as she takes a step closer to the creature; can’t help himself even though he trusts her. Trusts she knows what she’s doing and believes in the path she’s taking.

So he has to believe in her, too. Their lives depend on it.

“I know the misery it’s brought. And I know I won’t have a hand in it anymore.” On silent command the bloodwraith opens its ghoulish talons held aloft. And with all of her fear and grief and anger put aside Vera lays the dead witch’s token upon them.

The skin fades sickly pale and bloodless veins spread black and ruinous. A horrific sight not unfamiliar — and Taylor knows in a part of him that’s still tied to the grief of Cassiopeia’s misplaced trust that the unknown magics preserving her body in the tomb lift and allow her to finally rest.

Even accepting the reality that there was a tortured soul powering the bloodwraith like Satan’s battery — he still couldn’t think of it as something with thoughts; something beyond a mindless killing entity. Which probably explains the weird feeling that comes with watching the creature as it looks down at the totem with a curiosity that could almost be called human.

Behind it the Elders close even tighter ranks. He’s not entirely certain they shouldn’t be doing the same.

Then, like all living things the wraith crosses, the hand begins to wither. Flesh pulled taut against skeletal fingers before eating away at itself the way maggots do; reveals the muscles underneath and the tissue between bones until those desiccate too. Until all that’s left are pale off-white bones that fall in little thunk-thunks to the dirt at its… levitating burial wrappings.

Uncertainty hangs over their heads crisp and icy, prickles like needles at Taylor’s skin and tries to choke him from the inside with every breath.

Now what?

The witches strike first. Try to get the jump on the bloodwraith while its back is still turned with three right hands extended and three burning spheres of fire brought together in Daniels’ power and sent hurtling forward.

Like that’ll make a difference.

The blaze collides against the creature’s spine and even manages to set a few tattered edges of it’s billowing wraps alight. But fire is like all things; needs oxygen to breathe and live. And nothing lives that close to the wraith’s existence. Cassiopeia’s hand proved that.

What would have happened if they’d done nothing; if they had fled, or held their breaths and stayed very still? Would they have been spared? Would Reimonenq’s soul take its newfound freedom and flee beyond the Veil?

It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Because they act — they lash out first. So technically there’s nothing against the retaliation coming.

Maybe if they’d kept Cassiopeia alive she could have banished it before the slaughter.

And it is.

The ghastly, gleeful grin Taylor swears he can see twisted back upon its lips will haunt him for some time; whether it’s really there or not.

The bloodwraith makes quick work of the ones who bound it to bone. It may have enjoyed the hunt every other time before but this — this it has been waiting for from the moment it was birthed in blackness and greed. Taking no time to savor their screams.

Not that the Elders go quietly — each new barrage of magic changes the air pressure and makes Taylor’s eyes swim dizzy and confused. They send spell after spell and chant after chant at the bloodwraith’s face, it’s torso, the space between it and the ground. They try to swallow it up with a tear in reality, send blood from their open veins to slake its thirst; things magic might not even be capable of but are made real in those desperate last moments.

As if the universe, the forces Beyond, the things that bind The Fate in rules against intervention give the witches all the power their mortal bodies can hold. In the same way a death row inmate is given a feast for his last meal.

The wraith’s tainted touch is too good for them. Keeps them whole, maybe even alive long enough to continue toying with. It can’t have that.

So it plunges through Millet’s abdomen bodily. Cleaves her in two uneven pieces and the rest of her splattered on the stone wall at her back. The viscera is dark, almost black against the bleach-white bones that emerge like a butterfly that could only come from the mind of H.G. Wells.

Vion’s cloudy eyes are plucked from his skull with veins and nerves snapping like taut strings. His mortal mouth isn’t wide enough to fit the wraith’s claw until it is — but only after flashing the onlookers with the bottom half of the smile he never learned how to give. Like scooping stew out of the pot with knives his organs come out mangled, misshapen.

The smell is awful and Taylor wants to look away but he doesn’t. Forces himself to watch each new torture and indignity those husks are subjected to. Because they are husks now. There’s no way anyone could be alive after that.

Even when he feels Nik’s tension closer than before and a hand inches its way up to the corner of his eye he brushes it aside. “You shouldn’ have to see this,” the Nighthunter whispers. And he’s right. He shouldn’t have to.

But the Coven Elders only have themselves to blame for that. They were the ones who pulled him into the dark and horrible. “I will anyway;” his equally voiceless reply.

And then there’s Elder Daniels. Made to watch the evisceration and mutilation of her kin. The last witches to fall to The Bloody Hand. That’s her fault, too.

It backs her into the Millet-strewn wall but she does not cower. It rakes talons through her throat her gut her four limbs but she does not scream. It hovers in the air over the pile of her it created but she does not look away — eyes brighter in death than they ever were in life.

The hardest part comes after. Waves of nausea and anguish and the taste of blood at the back of his throat that leave him shaking, crying even though he knows there was no other way — that someone had to die. It takes time but the feelings and all their overwhelming wrath do fade.

Belatedly he realizes — the last of the Coven Elders, those tiny wisps of purpose and ill, have left this world.

The fallout of them remains.

The bloodwraith hovers there among its finest work. Takes them in maw dripping blood and tissue stained red and reeking of death and righteous revenge — but still, silent as the grave.

Without tether or ruling hand there is nothing left inside its hollow ribs. Its great work is done.

Elric is the first to speak, voice cracked from exhaustion, and Taylor isn’t the only one who jumps slightly at the broken silence.

“We must destroy the creature before its nature overpowers the echoes of its former self.” Not that he has to tell anyone twice.

“Think it’ll sit still long enough fer us to put it through a woodchipper?” Kristof isn’t joking.

But Elric shakes his head; doesn’t humor even outlandish ideas. “I… do not know.”

Katherine favors her left side as she hobbles close enough for Ryder to prop her up. “We could pursue another necromancer — but the odds of one being close enough to get here in time…”

“An’ I definitely don’ have enough arrows to banish it to the Veil.”

“So we’re fucked?”

“Every passing moment deteriorates its complacency. It will go rabid.”

“If we had the totem —”

“— the Elders would still be alive, so stop lookin’ at me like that mother.”

Through the din of arguments and ideas tossed forward and debunked Taylor sees their guest again. Watches as The Fate holds his gaze then looks out, slow and with purpose. Over the grass and gravel stained black that now shines like glass under the revealing moonlight.

The stars shine much the same but the trails left by Elric and Garrus’ valiant effort in cornering the witches are a different beauty. Something ethereal and as bright as it is dark. Scorched trails of obsidian creating beauty in destruction.

With all the weird and cryptic help they keep giving, he’s gonna need to get The Fate a fruit basket delivered or something.

“Do you have enough strength to do it one more time?”

Elric looks at him with a furrowed confusion — takes a moment to understand before he withers further. “I worry not even Garrus’ aid will be enough to burn the beast. Not alone.”

Taylor’s heart sinks, but Nik catches it before it gets too low.

“So help ‘em out, Rook.”

“Me?”

“You did it before.”

“Yeah but not on purpose.”

“So get Elric to channel it to you again.”

Then his father is at his side with pale palm turned up in offering. “You are not the same person you were then. You may not need my help.”

Everyone’s stopped arguing now; listening intently. Talk about stage fright.

“Yeah I — I don’t think so. The other fae, the ones inside…”

“Not all of us have the touch to do such wonders.”

And isn’t that just great. “Obviously. Why would it ever be easy?”

He throws a look to Garrus, still half-caught in Krom’s arms though looking far less on the verge of unconsciousness. Not that Krom worries over him any less. They catch him looking and their smiles are matched; happy, relieved, sheepish. Makes Taylor have the just-barely resistible urge to shake his head and say “those crazy kids.”

What’s the use arguing at this point?

“Okay. I mean — however I can help.”

Of course the stone troll is reluctant to let Garrus go, takes more than a fair bit of coaxing from Ivy but he does. “I haven’t stretched these muscles in a century,” comes the anticipated complaint, “and now you have me conjuring twice in one evening?” But Garrus doesn’t hesitate as he takes his position back up.

Elric directs Taylor nearest Isadora; doesn’t argue when Nik follows like an extension of him.

“I’ll be okay.” Not that he doesn’t appreciate the support.

“I know —” then, after a beat, “— still. Don’t have to leave you, so I won’t.”

A hush falls with the fae men in their positions. The outcast, the Lord, and the halfling in a triangle around the dormant wraith.

He knows he shouldn’t but that’s never stopped Taylor before. Cautiously reaches out with that feeling inside and tries, more out of curiosity than anything, to search for anything that remains of Reimonenq within its cursed bones.

But he’s just met with a void. Blacker than black — no revenge, no vendetta to carry out; nothing at all.

So he pulls it back… and feels the faint whisper of death like velvet on his cheek.

It’s as ready as they are for all this to be done with.

Not that he was expecting a lesson on a chalkboard or anything — Conjuring Grimfire 101 — but there’s a distinct lack of any kind of instruction that leaves Taylor more than a little lacking. Has him looking back and forth to mirror the men in everything he can see.

One minute the uncertainty is there; building inside of him a threatening mass of the unknown — and then it isn’t.

It’s just gone.

Whatever takes its place—not confidence, not quite—is enough, somehow. He knows it’s enough.

Looking down Taylor isn’t surprised to see wisps of black flame licking at his palms. Both enveloped and not, but not a burn in sight and so so beautiful.

It doesn’t take much. Barely even a gesture but moreso the power to let the grimflames take to the world beyond him.

Taylor, Garrus, Elric — they aren’t three people and three flames anymore. They’re one in the same; send their combined will forward. Rushing, racing on still winds lapping and hissing at one another until they seek home in the only thing they can.

A column of midnight fire erupts towards the sky as the bloodwraith is consumed. The last of its flesh, the tendrils of cloth, the thrice-burned bones engulfed in a fire that bathes the entire garden in light.

Taylor prepares himself — muscle memory — for a stinging wave of heat that never comes. And the sight is as captivating as it is terrible, as magical as it is destructive. Colors without names taking the wraith’s shape within the black — aberrant and awe-some.

Higher and higher the grimfire clamors for the abyss; seeks home in a darkness just as endless. The colors within grow to a blinding brightness as, within, the creature is devoured.

The Council of New Orleans watches as one. Blooded and bruised and alive. Shadows of light in lashes across every face like a ritual of cleansing.

Cadence shoulders the combined weights of Kathy and Cal; holds them up with tears in his eyes.

As Kristof watches, jaw slack, Octavia lumbers up to him with blood-matted fur and noses at his palm, turns a golden gaze up to the place where the fire and the heavens meet. Even Isadora finds herself held captive by the sight.

Vera’s hands cup her elbows, the glowing shadows catching on her curls and every teardrop that collects at her chin. Behind her Tonya stands shrouded in the dark of her daughter’s figure. The only one focused on something else.

But it makes sense. Don’t ask him how but it does. It isn’t just the bloodwraith that is forced to make peace in the fae fire’s glow. It shines on all of them and chases away every shadow left in the chambers of their hearts. Leaves within Taylor a feeling of profound peace; of understanding.

From tip to temple the remnants of the bloodwraith scatter upwards, rainbow embers scattering to every corner of the city — further even.

Upturned palms slowly close with curled-in fingers; Garrus, then Elric. Elric who looks at his son with pride to which nothing can compare. Taylor almost doesn’t want to let it go. Wants to let it build and stay in this beautiful monument to everything… everything.

Instead he closes his hands and snuffs out the light.

The curtains close.

Cade pulls away gasping; covers his mouth with the back of his hand with something akin to shame burned into his red eyes. Katherine gives him time; lets the vampire come back to himself with her bare arm still offered; just in case.

It isn’t lost on Taylor — or anyone, really — that the huntress was content to push half a wine glass of her blood towards Isadora de la Rosa. That the vein was a luxury only Cadence was allowed.

Cadence who holds her arm gingerly as he smears blood from his nicked thumb along the skin and lets it heal.

All around them the Mardi Gras decorations still shimmer with delight. Enticing them to forget their worries and relax; to enjoy themselves in a way they might finally be allowed, now. But the night isn’t done yet. Neither are they, no matter how much they might wish otherwise.

Two ashtrays pass between hands. Inside; a thin layer of blood shared among them like a church sacrament. The unspoken rule — take just enough to heal your wounds, because the likelihood that either vampire was willing to part with more than they could afford was slim.

And he cares about the rest of his friends — he does. He’s glad to see the bruises fading from Kathy’s ribs where her shirt is hitched up; to see Cal testing the motion of his arm where Octavia had helped relocate his shoulder. He’s glad — yet it doesn’t stop him from devoting the majority of his attention to Nik.

“No physical signs of a concussion,” mumbles Cade through his careful examination of the man’s pupils; flashes the mini-light from Taylor’s keys between them just in case, “and as any possible wounds would be internal there isn’t much my blood can do that it wouldn’t have done already.”

But Ryder will only humor them for so long. The frustration is already starting to tick in his brow. “Cool, then will you lay off?”

“Nik —”

“I’m fine Rook, see?” He gestures with arms spread wide and what is that supposed to prove? Can anyone blame him for worrying? Would anyone dare to try?

No, not like this. Not when the events of the night still hang over those gathered like an anvil on a very thin rope. Only when it drops it won’t be for comedic effect.

All they need is someone to cut the cord.

Good thing Nik Ryder has never been one to sugarcoat anything. Or hold his tongue for that matter.

“They weren’t wrong, you know, the Coven Elders.”

Which is so the wrong thing to say and gets a couple hundred pounds of angry sweaty werewolf in his face, growling; “The fuck’d you just say, Ryder?”

Even Isadora’s disapproval isn’t so easily contained. “Poor taste, Nighthunter.”

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Looks Kristof square in the eyes with a matching frown and a set jaw.

“You could ignore it before, but you sure can’t now. Things around here have gotten way outta hand. Each one’a you only cared about what was right under your noses. I ain’t sayin’ they went about it the right way but to walk outta here with nothing changed would be almost just as bad.”

That he doesn’t end up with a broken jaw is surprising on its own. When Kristof actually steps back as if to listen? Well Hell went straight from frozen over to a winter wonderland.

“Continue,” prompts Elric then, since no one else is willing to offer the floor to him. Why would they? Who wants to be told everything they’ve done wrong? Especially when it leads to… well.

“I didn’ think about the state of things until I saw what was goin’ on inside Persephone. Told myself it wasn’t any of my business —”

“— which it is not,” Tonya interrupts, and meets the glare Vera snaps at her with a hard set to her jaw. “Nighthunters have always been a complicated party. No allegiances, no code of conduct but their own. And now this one wishes to dictate to us all of the things we are at fault for as though he stands on some sort of higher ground?”

Vera just shakes her head, dislike rotting into distaste on her tongue.

“Unbelievable. You still don’t think you have any blame to take in any of this.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to keep this city safe?”

“Oh I’m well aware, mother,” the words lash out on the tip of her tongue; make Tonya recoil however slight. “In fact — that, that right there — that’s half the problem here! That’s exactly what Ryder’s talking about. You stand there actin’ like a martyr when all you’ve done—all you’ve really done—is bully, bribe, and threaten your way into power. How long do you think it’ll keep now?”

She’s no longer the woman who went running at the smallest sign of danger. It’s a thing to behold, really.

And Vera isn’t the only one. Even with all of his huffing and puffing Cal steps up and looks Kristof square in the eyes. There’s a set to his jaw and his eye is still a little purple but hell if he’s backing down now.

“Now don’t you go makin’ trouble for yerself, pup,” his kin warns, but what else could he possibly lose that he hasn’t already?

“Anyone who disagrees with you makes trouble.”

“Yeah, and?”

The younger wolf’s joints pop and crack as he cranes his neck from side to side. Both of them rearing to go even after everything.

“That’s no way to lead a pack.”

Kristof snorts through a cherry-red face. “An’ I take it you’ve got a lotta thoughts you been holdin’ in.”

“You could say that.”

“Until you’re an Alpha I don’t think you’ve got much of a say.”

“He may not, but I’ve a few thoughts, cher.”

There’s a very Et tu, Brute? vibe in how Octavia places herself in the familiar space between the argument. Back then and here in the now Octavia remains a voice of reason to compensate for the one her Alpha just doesn’t seem to have been born with.

His nostrils flare. “Tavvy…”

“I ain’t sayin’ the pup’s right, but you an’ I both know he’s got a point. Things have been good for us, Kristof. Good for the pack.”

“Yeah, why the hell d’you think that is?!”

“I’m not sayin’ you ain’t sacrificed to keep us goin’. An’ I’ve backed you up on every single thing to date. But Kristof Jensen so help me if you raise your voice at me again I will whoop your furry behind to kingdom come and that’s a promise.”

The Alpha and his Beta square off, eye to eye. She commands the space around her despite behind several heads shorter than him. Being part of a pack means something deeper than most can understand and it radiates out from them in viscous tension.

He’s an Alpha; he can’t back down. But she’s his partner — so she won’t.

And Cal, who can’t tell if he has the other wolf on his side or just not on Kristof’s, refuses to let himself be pushed out of the conversation.

“Uncle,” one word that snaps all attention back to him, “you picked up the pack when we needed it most. You know they’re grateful — you know I’m grateful —” and there’s something hidden unspoken in Cal’s words, something from before all this but can’t be held back any longer, “— you were the Alpha they needed when I couldn’t be.

“But the pack can’t be more important than the community it’s part of. You can’t pull away from the rest of New Orleans and call it keeping everyone safe. Not when it leads to shit like this.”

There’s so many emotions and reactions twisting on the Alpha’s scarred face; Taylor doesn’t even attempt to reach out to feel them for fear of empathy whiplash.

So he’s just as surprised as everyone — Cal and Octavia included — when the wolf deflates; sags his shoulders and reaches out for the Beta to find a home crooked under the weight of his arm.

“Now ain’t the time to get into the nitty-gritty.”

Before Cal can object, Octavia squares him away with a single glance. Maybe not now, but soon. And that’s more than before, so he’ll take it.

To everyone’s surprise Isadora steps forward with a steely eye.

“My father was no saint. Since inheriting his seat and estate I have come upon a number of… gruesome things; things he was content to keep from me, and no doubt from the rest of the Council.”

If anyone notices the way her eyes flick to Cadence, they don’t mention it. “But I think that is the point Ryder makes; we, this Council, are supposed to be the ones making decisions for the betterment of this proud city. Instead we have burrowed our heads in the sand, contented ourselves with turning a blind eye to one another’s wrongdoings lest our own come to light.

“We cannot continue like this. The Council will not survive it. New Orleans will not survive it.”

Murmurs of agreement echo throughout the foyer; Elric stands.

“We are tired; we are battle-worn. Yet we have ignored our obligations to the city for long enough I think. If we are to be the ones to bring about a positive change then the time to act is now.”

“Now?” asks Tonya in protest, “don’t you think we should postpone this — at least until Mardi Gras has settled?”

Nik drags two stools forward. Taylor takes the hint and he isn’t the only one — Krom and Ivy join him in grabbing chairs and other seats until everyone has a place to get comfortable.

“No time like the present.”

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (25)

Author’s Note:The first day of SasuSaku month?! Yeah, I’ve been working my fingers to the bone to get this out tonight. Surprise! Summer has officially ended for me, so this will be my last chapter for a few months as I get back into the swing of teaching. So sadddd…. BUT I typed 12 pages for you guys and typed two chapters worth in one. And it’s a good one ;) Have a good rest of the summer. OUT.  

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Chapter 25: Without a Heart

Speaking with Satou was one of the most difficult things Sakura had ever done. Satou was angry at the world; angry at his Kazekage for involving their village in the war, angry at Konoha because of their relationship with Suna; angry at Sakura for not having been able to see his wife before she died and save her life. Everything Isao had told her about his father was true. Satou blamed everyone he could and detested his only child because of the constant memory he represented of Rina.

The man’s eyes had turned glassy once as he screamed and pointed a finger at the Kazekage who remained emotionless. But then Isao walked down the stairs, already ducking his head and cringing at his father’s voice. When Satou made eye contact with his son, the tears vanished, and he shot out of his seat and glared icily at the boy. “You—” he began, but then Gaara stood, reminding Satou of his presence.

The Kazekage decided that it would be best if Satou was removed from the children’s mental health clinic. He was sent across the street to the hospital where Sakura felt like it would be beneficial for the man to be attended to. Sakura was starting to realize that maybe children weren’t the only ones that benefited from a mental health clinic. How was there supposed to be hope for the next generation if the previous one passed on their grievance to their children?

She expressed this concern to Gaara as they walked together towards the Sunagakure entrance. The Kazekage had received the news about Isao from Kankuro before his brother left and when hearing that Satou had returned, Gaara knew he would most likely be seeking out the child. Gaara hadn’t been a moment too late when he, too, decided to make a trip to the children’s clinic. After reasoning with Satou, Gaara turned to Sakura and expressed his desire to take her to watch the sunset—something Kankuro had told him their guest had yet to do for herself. The Kazekage felt like the event would be a good respite for the both of them.

“To assume that peace would be enough for this generation has been our error in thinking,” Gaara responded thoughtfully, “However, peace has always been the ultimate goal to prevent more pain in the future. It will have to be enough for them.”

Sakura contemplated his response for a minute as they strode down the main street towards the western exit of the village. The ninja of the last war fought for this dream, but when a few took account of their losses and sacrifices, some believed that very dream to be a lie now that they suffered personally from unhappiness. Satou was not the first that Sakura had encountered to feel this way, but he was the only person that Sakura knew of to be taking it out on his own child, which in turn, without help might be damaged himself and angry later on. The steps that Sakura had already taken towards this epidemic were the right ones, but what more could she be doing now that she knew there was moreto do?

“It has been an inaccuracy,” she agreed as Gaara peered over at her change in facial expressions, “to think that only children could suffer. What if we included adults in our mental health program too?”

Gaara’s eyes tightened a fraction in thought as he considered her words, so she added, “It would be harder, but maybe somebody could help these people.”

Without even a second of hesitation, the sand-wielder commented, “Somebody like Naruto.”

Naruto. Somebody like Naruto who could reach down into someone’s soul and find the light there. Naruto, who had a permanent effect on everyone who he came in contact with. Naruto Uzumaki had been able to stir the hearts of Zabuza, Nagato, and Obito, inspiring them to fight for his dream. He was the ninja who never gave up on his friend and brought Sasuke back from the darkness. Even this very Kage, who walked casually beside her, had once been considered a demon before Naruto had gotten to him.

“Like youLord Kazekage.” Gaara’s expression of shock was what made Sakura giggle. Gaara had not been expecting anyone to ever compare him to the ninja he admired most.

He didn’t say anything, so Sakura decided to elaborate as they finally reached the canyon opening at the back of the village. “You remind me of him a lot, actually. Whenever you lead us to war after your speech, I had thought at the time that not even Naruto could have inspired so many people at one time. You have a gift.”

She could see that the words moved Gaara. His face lightened slightly as he nodded a thanks in her direction.

When the two of them finally made it through the rocky break in the walls, Sakura stopped dead on her feet at the long-awaited sight. The sunset was just how Kankuro had said it would be: absolutely beautiful. The sand dunes were high in the horizon, a dark, uneven backdrop for the sun to fall behind. The sun was currently balanced on the knife’s edge of the farthest peak, trailing a woven blanket of every color of orange behind it.

“Oh wow,” Sakura exclaimed as soon as she stepped out of the shadow and the auburn light illuminated her features. As she said it, Sakura began to hover suddenly as Gaara summoned up the sand at their feet, a compact disc suddenly materializing beneath them. Sakura had never been afraid of heights before, but when the floor shifted, her stomach almost came up her throat. Before she could even ask what was going on, Gaara was stepping off the sand cloud and onto the lowest of the two ridges of the jagged end of the north-west wall. The kunoichi tailed him quickly as the sand began to crumble, and Gaara walked ahead of her like he wasn’t quite aware of how unusual it was to fly people around on sand.

“You do this often?” Sakura called out as the sand platform blew away in the wind and she stood staring out at the vast expanse of desert that rolled in amber waves before her. She had never been this high up in her lifetime. Sakura felt like she was on top of the world as the evening breeze ruffled her hair and she turned to look over the tops of the stucco houses belonging to Suna.

“Sometimes when I need to get away and think, I come up here,” he announced, taking a seat a little down from where she stood, an arm propped on his knee as he too gazed out at the place that shared his name sake “Gaara of the Desert.” Even though Gaara was the Kazekage and had an official office, Sakura suddenly realized that she was beholding at a king who was sitting on his real throne. Sakura took that as her cue to do the same, so she plopped down too, choosing to dangle her legs over the edge of this giant seat.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” she said after a second, realizing suddenly that he might not share this with many people.

Gaara offered her a small grin, “I never got to really thank you for what you did for my brother; what your team did for me.”

Ah. So that was it. When the Akatsuki came and abducted Gaara, Kankuro had been attacked and poisoned by Sasori. After developing an antidote that saved Kankuro’s life, Sakura had joined the rest of her team to help rescue the Kazekage. Even though Chiyo had been the one to technically revive Gaara by giving him her life, it seemed that the Kazekage still felt indebted to Team 7 and other leaf shinobi involved. That was why Gaara was being especially kind during this visit.

Sakura had seen Gaara several times before over the last couple of years and had met mostly with him during conferences or when he was around several advisors and council members. The last time she had convened with only him and his siblings, it was because Gaara had concerns about Sasuke (or rather unbeknownst to them at the time, it was actually a double of Sasuke.) Sakura supposed this was why she met with Gaara’s official and down-to-business persona more often than this normal, approachable version of him. It was so strange, Sakura thought as she observed the ninja a few feet away from her, how this leader with a heart had once been the monster Sakura had stared in the face as she stood guard over Sasuke. How different he was now in contrast to who he used to be. The Kazekage had a bigger love for this village now than he had ever possessed in hatred, and it was a vision that gave Sakura hope for her own goal to restore happiness to this generation and the one before. If Gaara and Sasuke could come back from such darkness, why couldn’t everyone else?

“You’re a friend,” Sakura told him, “and to be honest,” she confessed, “Naruto considers you one of his closest companions and your support of him and our village has been payback enough.”

And then Sakura told him about Naruto, how he was doing, what he had been up to recently, and what he was doing currently. Of course, Sakura couldn’t contain the news that had only been recently shared with Sakura, herself. Gaara was surprised and overjoyed to hear about the new member that Naruto and Hinata would soon welcome to their family.

And then the Kazekage admitted something to her that he had been thinking about doing in regards to family. “I wouldn’t be against adoption, myself. It’s something new I am considering.”

“Really?” Sakura beamed, delighted too for this man who would make any child an excellent father figure despite having a bad past with his own.

“The children’s clinic has had its own impact on me, you could say.”

Sakura smiled again at such a compliment and the Kazekage added rapidly, “I think I’ll wait a while yet to make an official decision. Something that big needs a lot of thought.”

Sakura couldn’t help but agree. Gaara was the Kazekage after all, and a very young one at that. His responsibilities grew by day and a child would definitely complicate things. Sakura also imagined that the council probably pressured him when it came to marriage and other long-term commitments. Everything would probably be filtered through his advisors, first.

Sakura sighed, thinking of her own future. She was on such unlevel ground with Sasuke, who knew if she would ever marry or have children with the love of her life. If not with him, would she ever find that sort of happiness with someone that lead to building a family? She had told Sasuke she wouldn’t move on, and maybe in her heart, she never would. If this was to be her outcome, then she could always adopt like Gaara. Maybe someone like Isao, who needed a mother desperately in their life, would be the child to make Sakura a mother.

It seemed Gaara’s main purpose of visiting was because he needed to talk to her about some intel, because he announced to her, “I’m afraid I’ll be rather occupied during the next few days; Kankuro too. We have had some trouble along the border between Sunagakure and the neighboring counties.”

Sakura’s ears pricked, and her eyes widened at the information. Her thoughts immediately jumped to Sasuke, who she imagined to be in the desert surrounding Suna this very minute. What if something had happened? Before her overanalytical brain could begin creating imaginary scenarios, Sakura asked, “What sort of trouble?”

He clarified by saying, “Rumors mostly about travelers. A few have been stirring up trouble as they pass through local towns. Kankuro has gone to investigate these reports.”

Sakura sincerely hoped this had nothing to do with the masked ninja that had attacked her and Sasuke during their passage through Tanigakure. She quickly relayed the story to Gaara, recalling all the details as if it had only occurred yesterday. The Kazekage listened patiently and even asked her to illustrate the strangers several times so he could commit the description to memory.

“I should have mentioned it earlier,” she apologized once she finished conveying the distressing event.

“I’m just glad you did,” the Kazekage solaced positively. “I’ll inform Kankuro immediately.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke Uchiha had been stuck in that damn core dimension for three nights straight. After his failed attempt to circumvent it completely by transporting directly to Kaguya’s connected sand dimension, Sasuke had spent the night laying on his back in the dirt. As he rested immobilized in the sand, Sasuke remembered how Kakashi used to get physically after overusing his sharingan; his former sensei, not being an Uchiha, would be bedridden for days as the result of depleted chakra levels. Sasuke knew that the same thing was happening to him. According to Hogoromo, Sasuke was the reincarnation of Indra, and an Uchiha at that, and was therefore a natural candidate for the Rinnegan once Hogoromo’s chakra had been introduced. In other words, it wasn’t an issue of heritage that was causing this fatigue, but he knew it was similar to Kakashi’s situation in the matter that Sasuke was overusing a power that had not once belonged to him. More simply, it was like overusing the Mangekyo once gained; that is until one achieved the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan through transplant of a relative’s eyes and then no longer experienced the negative side effects.

In any case, Sasuke hadn’t been able to hardly move the first night after the attempt and had contemplated just how he would be able to achieve the next step in this dimension traveling process. First, he desperately needed more chakra. Granted, he had never been able to do what he had done before, and Sasuke believed that his theory of being in the dimension’s double (the desert) was what had made summoning its portal even possible. He needed more chakra; had to have it despite his efforts around it. It was the only way to pull this off.

On the second and third nights, Sasuke had managed to walk over and find a small incline of rock and took shelter under the ledge while he rested. Sasuke had thought that if he recovered quickly enough, he might try teleporting to the sand dimension a second time at the same spot where the rift in time-space might be weaker now. Maybe thatwas his next step. But when the next morning came, and Sasuke could manage heavy walking, he found himself stumbling slowly across the vast red dune dimension in the opposite direction—back south towards Sunagakure. While his body worked up enough chakra to teleport back into his own realm, Sasuke had decided to hike the distance in this dimension, so that when he teleported, he wouldn’t have much travel time left towards the village.

Sasuke didn’t admit to himself at first that it was his reoccurring thoughts of Sakura that had him calling it quits early. The Uchiha had dreamt another delusion again where Sakura needed his protection from an unknown enemy and when Sasuke woke, he had reasoned with himself that it was all imaginary and there was no need to worry. Regardless, Sasuke found himself on his feet soon afterwards. He knew without a doubt that his female companion was more than capable of taking care of herself and was probably focused on her own work without a second thought about him, but his worry still persisted. Sasuke felt that he at least needed to check on her just to make sure that she was being careful, cautious, and of course, not overworking herself. Naruto and Kakashi would want him to while she was in his care, right?

What Sasuke also told himself as he neared the end of his journey, was that he needed time to contemplate his current issue with chakra reserves and recover completely anyway. Maybe Sakura could advise him in this entire situation, being one of the world’s leading experts in medical science.

When the tomoes finally reappeared on his Rinnegan, Sasuke breathed in and ripped a hole in space, a black vortex spiraling in the air before him. When Sasuke stepped through the portal, he reappeared on the dunes bordering the northern wall of the Sand Village. Sasuke breathed in the sudden surge of oxygen blown to him from the western wind and noticed that the sun had almost completely set. It was dusk now and a purple sky greeted his return. A few minutes more and darkness would completely settle on the Sand Village. Sasuke thought it would be best if he headed straight to his lodgings since that was where Sakura would soon be heading if she was leaving the hospital. Or at least, he hoped so.

When Sasuke made his way along the wall towards the western opening—the same path he had taken on his way out of the village—he soon realized his assumption about Sakura’s current location had been wrong. Her voice rang like a familiar hailing bell somewhere in the air above him, and when he located it as he rounded the corner, his relief was a palpable weight off his shoulders. His pink-haired teammate was sitting up on top of a bluff near the exit, unhurt and completely unaware of his presence as she watched the sun sink below the mountains of sand at his right. The very next second Sasuke realized that she was talking to a person sitting next to her and Sasuke’s relief turned acid as he narrowed his eyes at Gaara, the Kazekage who was apparently partaking in the sunset view with her.

So, he thought to himself, Sakura had been fine all along. The entire trek here he had been thinking of her, and it made Sasuke a little bitter to see her free from the same type of thinking. From the looks of it, she was morethan fine.

Sasuke checked his unmasked glare then, because he was suddenly peering up into the scrutinizing assessment of the silent Kazekage, who had been observing every emotion that Sasuke had let slip onto his face. In the second that Sasuke’s eyes had fallen on Sakura, Gaara must have sensed the Uchiha’s presence and had focused on him before Sasuke had even registered the sand-wielder. Sasuke wiped his expression immediately with embarrassment of being caught, inclining a respectful nod towards the ninja who was currently their host. Sasuke should be grateful to the man for looking after her, not showing him disrespect.

Gaara turned to Sakura then, mumbling something quietly that not even Sasuke could register. He assumed it was a farewell because the Kazekage stood as Sakura gazed up at him, still oblivious to the eyes that watched her from below. Gaara picked a kunai out of his pocket and stuck it into the ground beside her before stepping out onto a platform of sand that materialized before him. With a gesture towards Sakura, Gaara lowered himself on the other side of the wall and disappeared over the tops of the village buildings.

Just as Gaara had anticipated, Sasuke summoned the small amount of chakra it possessed to switch places with the kunai that Gaara had put in place for him; the simple act made Sasuke feel even more guilty for the look he gave him seconds earlier. The Uchiha’s guilt changed to shame when he appeared on his feet beside his travelling companion and Sakura jumped up with joy at seeing him suddenly beside her.

“Sasuke?” she exclaimed, walking up to him and beaming up at him. “I didn’t know you were back!”

“Just arrived,” he grunted tiredly, instantly relaxing by taking Gaara’s seat on the ledge. “Why are you up here?”

“To watch the sunset,” she innocently gestured outward towards the sky. “I hadn’t done so yet, so Gaara brought me. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Sasuke tried not to be annoyed at that statement. In what circumstances had the Kazekage or Sakura thought it a good idea to bring up sunset viewing? Sasuke supposed he still wasa little bothered because before he could stop them, the words came out. “And what did the Kazekage say?”

Sakura crouched down on her knees beside him and began explaining their entire conversation. Sasuke’s irritation was replaced with intrigue as Sakura educated Sasuke about the reports of criminal-like activity on the outskirts of the village. Gaara had made the effort to talk to her about this because it would help explain his and Kankuro’s upcoming absence over the next few days as they investigated the rumors. Sakura had also informed the Kazekage about their most recent encounter with strange ninja. At the mention of it, Sasuke was just relieved to hear that ninja hadn’t made an appearance here while he was away. Sasuke also felt relieved that the entire situation was now in the Kazekage’s hands. Perhaps the encounter with their attackers had been a random occurrence after all and Sasuke wouldn’t have to hear anything more about it.

As she continued to catch him up, Sasuke leaned wearily against the wall of rock behind him and watched her talk from the corner of his eye. Sasuke noticed abruptly that she was wearing the clothes that he had bought for her before he left. Despite the plainness of the style, she made them work wonderfully and Sasuke was thankful that he had guessed the fit right. The looser, more modest top had been intentionally picked and swayed around her agreeably. The light was fading now as stars began to prickle the dark purple horizon and a large rosy moon, too, made an appearance on the skyline. Sakura’s braided hair was a shade darker in the dimness and Sasuke recognized that it was longer now, just below her shoulders.

Soft fingers suddenly brushing his had Sasuke refocusing on Sakura’s words. Her expression was one of concern as she assessed him for any signs of injury, a lifelong habit. As Sakura leaned forward with fretful assessment, Sasuke pressed the fingertips reassuringly that dangled over his palm. “Just a little tired is all,” he admitted.

Sakura didn’t take her hand away as she scooted back against the wall beside him. Sasuke didn’t move his either, even though he tried desperately to convince himself to. He really shouldn’t have grasped her fingers, Sasuke told himself. But this wasn’t bad, was it? Their hands were just grazing one another; that didn’t mean they were holding hands. He wasn’t violating a boundary by resting his knuckles against hers.

“Tell me,” she spoke evenly, seemingly unaffected by their sudden nearness, “what you’ve been doing for the past three days.”

And so he did. All of it. Her face changed to one of uneasiness again as he explained why his absence was so long. He had run out of chakra and spent two days waiting for enough of it to return before he could make the voyage back. He enlightened her about his plan for the next attempt, trying it twice in succession, the first to open the door, and the second effort a day later while using the same door to see if that would get him further.

When Sakura pulled away her hand abruptly and placed it on her leg, Sasuke frowned and fisted his own in response. He backtracked, trying desperately to remember what he might have said that would make her upset. Sasuke instantly knew something was wrong and wanted to ask her about it, but Sasuke had a sinking feeling that it was related to him.

He was saved the trouble of asking as Sakura beheld the sky again and said quietly, “You didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t know that you had left.”

Sasuke looked down into his lap, fisted hand now resting on his knee. The Sasuke a few years ago would have instantly responded with “I don’t have to tell you anything” but he wasn’t that Sasuke anymore. He wanted to tell her that he had tried to go to her but had lost his nerve when Kankuro came out of the greenhouse and caught him looking for her. The reality was that he didn’t have enough steel to stray from the comfort zone of his reserved behavior in front of others. Maybe privately, just between them, Sasuke could have found her and told her he was leaving. But how could he explain that to her without looking like a total coward?

When he hesitated to reply, Sakura whispered in the darkness. “I thought we had a ‘partnership.’”

He returned his gaze to her then, recalling their conversation on the way here about a trust that involved the both of them working together. That’s what he had wanted. A partnership where he wasn’t the sole receiver. But how could a partnership work while they were away on separate missions? He had his own mission and she had hers. Sasuke couldn’t help but feel annoyed about this entire circumstance. Hadn’t he just come back to check on her? Wasn’t he getting distracted from the one goal that the entire world depended on him for?

“I’m sorry,” he admitted quietly. Then he added, “This is how it is for me. I have to leave when I can—”

“You can at least tell me you’re leaving,” Sakura interrupted, still not making eye contact with him. It unnerved him for her to do so. She alwaysmade eye contact with him. “I understand that you have to leave; I don’t expect any different. But a part of a partnership is communication.”

Communication? Between two people who couldn’t ever really be together? He cared about Sakura; he really did. If all she wanted was communication, couldn’t Sasuke give her that? Isn’t that what she had asked of him back in the Leaf too? “Stop dodging me,” she had tried to bargain. More of her words rang in his memory: "We don't have to be together to love each other, Sasuke.” So, maybe they didn’t, but communication alone wasn’t a relationship that Sakura deserved.

She added again at his silence, “Remember when I had run off to bathe in the woods and you came to find me?” Sasuke instantly wanted to say ‘no’ just out of mortification but Sakura finished by saying, “You had asked me to tell you where I was going before I ran off. How you felt in that moment is how I felt when I realized that you weren’t coming back to our room. I need you to do at least that—to tell me you’re leaving.”

Sasuke’s heart softened and his resolved wavered. It was the imagining of her in that equal amount of distress that had the Uchiha fessing up. “I meant to say goodbye. I went to the greenhouse, but…you were talking to people—so.”

Sakura turned to meet his eyes then and Sasuke felt both shyness and instant relief at the action. To the Uchiha, it was a sign that Sakura’s resentment was passing. Sasuke thought that he might personally prefer the animated angry Sakura that gave him a black eye to this silent one.  

“You did?” she asked, her voice lightening considerably. She searched his face for more information that Sasuke didn’t want to give her. The whole point was that he didn’t right?

Sasuke’s smirk was a reaction that his body didn’t make often. “I’ll leave a note next time.” He would do at least that for her—say goodbye in some way.  

“I’ll take it,” she smiled in response, elbowing him in the chest and leaning her side fully against his own despite his surprised expression. She ignored him and watched the moon’s progression as it turned into a snowy white, all color gone from the atmosphere now. Her warmth was a comfort that Sasuke hadn’t realized he’d missed while he was away. When they had parted, Sasuke had felt like he had lost his arm again, and now, it felt like a limb had been given back to him. No, he realized, not a limb. An organ. She was one of several pieces of his heart, a valve that Sasuke knew he couldn’t live without—didn’t want to live without. But he had to. Like Itachi had for the world, Sasuke would have to cut out his heart and learn to live without it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura found herself incredibly nervous as they made their way through the dim alleyways of Sunagakure towards their housing. Unlike Konoha, whose evening streets were alive with activity and lights, only the occasional lantern lit a window in the Sand Village. Sakura theorized that perhaps it was a fire risk to brighten the streets with firelight being that heavy winds traveled between buildings and rushed houses. The wind was especially strong at this very moment as she and Sasuke strode up the path towards the little inn adjacent to the hospital. It didn’t seem to be bothering Sasuke much; the only thing that flapped around him was his poncho. Sakura, on the other hand, clung desperately to her unravelling hair that was a perfect metaphorical illustration for her unraveling nerves.

“Welcome back sir!” Chie exclaimed as the two of them entered, her eyes quickly assessing Sasuke’s unexpected return. Sakura couldn’t help but notice how recurrently dead the place seemed despite the inn-keeper’s claim of full capacity four days ago.

Sakura expressed her thoughts to Sasuke as they made the climb together up the two flights of stairs. She only spoke because there wasn’t anything else she could think to say. “Don’t you feel something off about this place? All the doors are shut like they’re full, but I haven’t met a single soul while here.”

Sasuke answered emotionlessly with, “That’s because no one else is here; at least not on our floor. I think it’s intentional.”

Sakura blinked at that statement. “Our host seemed certain that we had one of the last remaining rooms. What do you mean by intentional?”

“Gaara vacated the place. I thought at first he did it because of safety measures, but I’m not sure.”

Safety from what? Sakura frowned when she quickly realized Sasuke was talking about himself. Did the Kazekage really think that lowly of the ex-convict Uchiha that he would actually evacuate an inn? Sakura chose to give Gaara, the man who had taken her to see the sunset, the benefit of the doubt. It seemed Sasuke was doing the same. She blushed as she considered the other possibility. The only other conclusion she could make was that Kankuro and Gaara had taken the time to ensure their safety… or privacy. That thought did not help her tangled anxiety.

When Sasuke opened the door to their room and walked in, Sakura couldn’t help but hesitate. He glanced back at her, reading her as easily as a book, and in response, Sakura giggled awkwardly/apprehensively before crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her.

After a few minutes of mutual silence, Sakura suggested hurriedly, “How about you take a seat and I’ll check on you really quick before you go to sleep. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

He nodded, possibly too tired to argue with her. The Uchiha was practically dead on his feet and it was hard to tell if he was experiencing even a fraction of the turmoil that was currently taking place inside of Sakura’s stomach. It hadbeen more obvious when they first stayed together; she was the collected one and Sasuke had tossed on the floor all night. Now, it seemed it was reversed.

Her bed, she noticed was messily ruffled from two nights ago; she hadn’t been able to tidy it that morning because she was late and then had stayed at the hospital last night with Isao. Sasuke turned to his own bed instead, seating himself and beginning to remove his shoes. He reached behind him and pulled the poncho over his head, leaving behind the black high-necked long sleeve. Slipping a thumb up under his hair wrap, he removed the firm binding and sand showered from his hair. He shook it all loose and then dusted the loose sand off his pants and quilt.

Taking a panicky breath, Sakura made her way over to him and Sasuke stared indifferently off into space as she touched his forehead with her glowing fingers. He sighed unexpectedly and closed his eyes at her attempt to soothe the pulsing behind his forehead.

“Does that feel better?” she asked him, taking the palm of her hand and closing his eyelids with it. The green light of her jutsu flared again, and Sakura focused her energy to the back of Sasuke’s Rinnegan, soothing the optic nerve and the pathways connected to the brain.

She got an exhausted mumble in response to her question, which made Sakura grin. “I think I have a solution for your chakra depletion, too,” the kunoichi announced as she pulled forward Sasuke’s left shoulder. “It’s been a while. Let’s have a quick look at this arm.”

“You do?” he responded to her first statement, a small spike of energy returning as Sasuke shrugged off his undershirt, giving her easy access to the firm bandaging around what remained of his bicep.  

“They’re not the best tasting, but I can make you my own version of the Military Ration Pills, or food pills, if you’d rather,” she offered, simultaneously stripping the dressings and placing a hand under his arm and raising it so she could easily observe the scar tissue. Sakura was pleased with the overall healing of this injury, but she still hoped that she might be able to rid Sasuke of the brutal scarring one day if he ever let her.

“The purpose of the food pills is to supply you with chakra for several days in succession. You’ll experience the same exhaustion afterwards, but these will help you get the chakra you need for a short period of time. You’ll have to eat many, but they should do the trick.” She explained all this while rewrapping the dismembered limb. “I first made them for Naruto back when he was trying to master chakra shape transformation while using shadowclones.”

Sasuke “tsk”ed at their headstrong friend and Sakura smiled again. “You can come with me tomorrow to the greenhouse, and I’ll cook you up a batch.”

. . . . . . . . .

Sasuke nodded sleepily at her offer. He had been correct in his theory that if anyone could help him figure out a solution to his current circumstances, it would be Sakura. Sasuke was knowledgeable about the use of food pills, but they weren’t the easiest things to come by; in fact, Konoha’s medics only made so many a year and Sasuke honestly hadn’t even took them into consideration. He supposed situations changed when you had a medic as a friend and she just happened to make a special recipe of food pills.

“There,” she nodded while tying off the end of his new bandage. Sasuke lulled at the feeling of her fingers dancing over his skin with such professional practice. He did a poor job of the wrappings with one arm, so it was nice to have someone else do it for once.  

Sasuke’s fatigue rapidly faded as the pink-haired medic leaned forward to release his arm and her shirt slid slightly to the left across her collarbone. Spotting the dark discoloration of a bruise just beneath the bone, Sasuke’s eyes widened and his right hand shot out and grabbed Sakura’s elbow before she could turn completely around.

“What is that?” Sasuke scowled, standing as he rotated Sakura’s body to fully face him again.

“What?” she asked unknowingly, disquiet jumping to the planes of her face at his sudden forcefulness.

“This,” he growled, releasing her elbow and using the end of his fingers to move the fabric away from her skin. As Sasuke placed his fingertips next to the mark, he couldn’t help but compare the size of them to the spot, and he made the connection almost instantly.

“Oh,” Sakura frowned down at the purple blotch, suddenly realizing the bruise was there herself. “That’s— I didn’t realize—” she began, moving away from his touch, then stopped her words when she saw the murderous stare he was giving the miniscule injury.

“Who did that to you?” he breathed, red beginning to stain his vision. There was an electricity forming beneath his skin and Sasuke couldn’t breathe. Somebody had shovedtheir fingers into her chest. Bruised her. In that moment, Sasuke knew instantly that he’d find and mutilate that person, whoever it was, accident or not, for even daring to lay their hands on her.

“Sasuke,” Sakura was saying, trying to reach him despite the ringing in his ears. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me you’re not going to overrea—”

Making eye contact with her again, Sasuke stepped up to her and requested a second time for the name he was wanting, “Who was it?”

There was a moment of frigid silence between them as they stood searching each other’s eyes. And then Sakura’s hands found his waist and she slid them across his sides and buried her head in his chest. She clutched his bare back and spoke into his skin. “Stop. Let me explain.”

She clung to him like a stubborn leach as Sasuke tried remove her from his body. He tried reaching his arm down between them to pry her off, but her forearms remained secure around him. Damn her inhuman strength. His anger began to ebb as she awkwardly mumbled the story into his ribcage. During their skirmish, they had somehow ended up on the ground, and Sakura pinned his good arm to his side, pissing the Uchiha off because he knew that she was taking advantage of his one-arm-ness. The entire time Sakura described her experience with an unnamed patient’sunnamed father, Sasuke was crossly forced to listen to the episode via wrestling. Their tussle-talk ended when the Uchiha finally was made to agree with: “I promise I won’t do anything, just get off me.”

When her weight suddenly removed from his back and Sasuke flipped over with a huge breath of air, he shot her a glare. “Don’t ever do that again,” he hissed in the kunoichi’s direction as she grinned embarrassingly down at him.

She reached down for his hand and he reluctantly gave it to her. She was just fortunate that Sasuke was too tired to knock her hand away. As she helped him to his feet, she said, “I’m flattered at your concern, but I can’t have you going chunin-exam psycho right now—”

“What?!” he growled, and she dropped his hand. Stalking over to his bed, Sasuke sat firmly down and propped his pouty chin into his palm, feeling suddenly even more tired than before. “I don’t go psycho,” he grumbled despite the fact that they both knew thatwas an obvious lie. He’d gone crazyplenty of times. “And I’m not concerned,” he spit out angrily, tossing a pillow down on his bed and flipping onto his stomach. “Naruto and Kakashi would be—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off his excuse and Sasuke stopped speaking; he still grumpily narrowed his eyes at her over the rim of his pillow before turning on his side completely, cutting off all conversation.

She didn’t take the hint, because seconds later she announced that she was showering and then going to bed.

“Hn,” he responded with more force and exasperation than he really needed to.

Okay, so, maybe he had gone just a little pre-psycho to this whole bruise situation. Sakura referenced the chunin exams and Sasuke recalled the incident she specified. When Sasuke had woken from his slumber, it was the effects of the cursemark that had the Uchiha turning his wrath on their enemies with fierce brutality. It was the rush of dark power that had turned Sasuke into a murderous “psycho.” So what was his problem now? A year ago, he wouldn’t have displayed something even close to the same reaction. He would have blamed Sakura for getting herself into the situation to begin with, and at the most, may have even told her to be more careful who she pissed off. But just a few minutes ago, Sasuke had felt like he did back in the Forest of Death, and yet he no longer had the cursemark. So why?

Sasuke had once always felt the desire to protect Sakura and maybe his reaction was just that feeling returning again now that they were friends again. It’s not just that, his own voice enlightened him.

Sasuke had in fact gone after Sakura when he heard about Kido kidnapping her, but the worst he had done in retaliation was surround ninja with fire and use genjutsu on one of them. But a few minutes ago… he was contemplating just how he’d stab more than fingers into the person’s chest who’d touched her.

Sasuke breathed out his anger again, hoping it would help him stop being so intense about it.

Sasuke couldn’t fall asleep as he tried to contemplate any other reason that would explain his actions besides the obvious answer. It had been obvious for some time now honestly, but Sasuke had denied it up until this point. Sasuke was in love with Sakura, and an Uchiha didn’t need to have a cursemark to be irrational when someone threatened his loved one. It had been a slow progression, but Sasuke had been slowly allowing himself to believe and accept the truth he’d always known. But what could he do about it now?

When Sakura finished showering, Sasuke pretended to doze heavily, so she put out the lights and padded lightly across the moonlit floor to her own bed. Despite how exhausted Sasuke was, he would never forget the night where he listened to the sound of Sakura’s even breathing as his heart ached, knowing that what he wanted, Sasuke could never have.

[blackcatkita]

The Consequence of Secrets- Chapter 22

The Fear of the Unknown

Liam x Jennifer(MC)

This is it everyone, we finally find out what is wrong with Queen Jennifer... This chapter, like those before it may be difficult for some people to read and I urge you to read the warning below. I don’t think I can say anyone will “enjoy” this chapter per se, but if it moves you, please like comment or reblog! I appreciate every single note! Tag list is at the end, if you would like to be added or removed you need only ask. Angsty af moodboard made by @darley1101 Word Count-3931

For all other works, please see my MASTERLIST.

WARNING- This chapter contains serious medical conditions, vivid descriptions of fear, and dialog of possible pregnancy loss and death.

“We don’t know…”

It had been hours since they first heard those words, long before the moonless night painted the sky black and a hush fell over the hospital. In that moment, he wasn’t the King hindered by propriety. He was a husband and a father, a man angry and terrified that the doctors were unable to provide a diagnosis. “What do you mean you don’t know?! This is your Queen!” He had bellowed, forgetting himself in his rage. It was Jennifer that brought him back, gently wrapping her small hand around his much larger fist, telling him to calm down and that they were doing the best they could. It was incredible. There was a woman who was suffering unimaginable pain, riddled with fear not just for herself but for the child she was carrying as well… and she was comforting him, as she so often did.  

“We don’t know…”

Seemingly endless ultrasounds had been taken, each one focusing on a different area of her abdomen and carrying with it the hope that this one would provide answers, bringing with it a fresh wave of heartache when it didn’t. Helpless, Liam could only watch as she became sicker, weaker, more tired, and her pain level increased. Though it wasn’t enough, he did whatever he could to comfort her; rubbing her back when the pain flared, feeding her ice chips when her throat was dry, holding her hand through every test, and promising they were going to figure it out, she was going to be okay, she just had to stay strong for a little while longer. 

“We don’t know…”

As the hours went by, he began to fear he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, but it wasn’t until the fourth ultrasound came back with nothing, and he overheard the doctors quietly discussing the possibility of cancer that he nearly broke down and had to excuse himself, calling Drake of all people because he didn’t know what else to do. For a moment, he was back on the beach, listening to his father tell him he was dying, and to hear that word spoken about Jennifer… it was too much to bear.  

Now, sitting in the chair beside her bed, Liam watches his beloved, her face relaxed in merciful slumber after finally succumbing to sheer fatigue and the increased dose of morphine necessary to dull her worsening pain. The nighttime lighting mounted to the wall casts shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and eyes, stark against her pallid skin and giving her an almost skeletal appearance. When she told him she didn’t want to die, that she was scared, he did his best to assuage her fears… but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t begun to share them. Not even his father looked this close to death as he took his final breath, and he can’t help but wonder how much more she could take.

Feeling his throat tighten, he leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose against the stinging in his eyes. He couldn’t allow fear to take over, couldn’t allow his anguish to consume him. Not yet. As long as he could hear the steady sounds of her breathing and their child’s muffled heartbeat through the monitor strapped to her belly, there was still hope and he could remain strong. He had to. For her, and the baby.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opens his eyes, studying her again. Despite the sickness marring her features, she’s still the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen, and he’s unable to stop himself from reaching out, cupping her cheek in his palm. “We were dancing…” She sighs, a ghost of a smile touching her lips before she opens her eyes, taking a few moments to focus on him. “Do you remember that? When we danced at the Masquerade Ball?” She asks quietly, her voice weak.

“Of course I remember. The moment I first saw you in Cordonia, I feared I was dreaming.” He smiles softly, picturing her standing before him in her angel costume, the image so clear it was as if it happened yesterday.

“I loved you… even then I loved you.” Her eyelids slowly close, and a tear spills over, wetting his thumb as he traces it along the dark purple shadow beneath her eye. Her skin feels warm against his hand… too warm, and a fresh tinge of worry twists his stomach.

“We have a lifetime of dances together still ahead of us My Love.” He tells her, unsure if he’s saying it to assuage her fears or his own.

Her eyes flutter open briefly, only to close again. “I’m so tired Liam…”

“I know Baby…” His breath hitches, and he takes a moment to compose himself, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “Go ahead and rest. I’ll be right here.”

The corners of her mouth twitch in the briefest of smiles and painfully slowly, she reaches for his hand as though it took every ounce of effort she had left to lift her arm. Squeezing his eyes shut to stop his beginning tears, he presses a kiss to her hand, feeling his lips tremble against her skin as he holds it in place. This isn’t right… none of it was. If only his father had warned him that it could be agonizing to be a devoted husband and a King… to be the most powerful man in the country and yet be utterly powerless to help the woman who was everything to him. Perhaps his father felt the same anguish as he watched Liam’s mother die a slow and painful death and that was a factor in his support of Madeleine. His father knew how much he loved Jennifer, and he wouldn’t have wanted his son to feel that pain, to love someone so completely that he would be willing to lose everything to save her. He would lay down his very life for her, would take her pain for the rest of his days if it meant she didn’t have to bear it for another moment.

Hearing the door open, he glances up to find Lucy approaching, still on duty as Jennifer’s nurse. “How is she doing?” She asks quietly.

Liam clears his throat, attempting to steady his voice. “She’s in and out but when she is awake she’s very weak, and she seems extremely warm to me.”

“She’s had a trying day.” Lucy replies, giving him an understanding look before taking the blood pressure cuff from it’s hook on the wall.

Trying to gently wake her, Liam rubs his palm against the top of Jennifer’s hand. “Love… Lucy is here to take your vitals.” Groaning with her eyes still closed, she rolls over onto her back and Liam stands, getting out of the way so the nurse can do her work. After watching Lucy take Jennifer’s vital every thirty minutes like clockwork, he knew the routine inside and out.

The thermometer beeps and Liam catches a brief look of concern flash in Lucy’s eyes as she looks down at it before excusing herself and walking quickly from the room. Moments later, she reappears and rushes back to Jennifer’s side, taking yet another tube of blood. “Her Majesty has developed a fever, and Dr Brooks wants another set of labs done to see if anything has changed. The results will only take a few minutes, and Dr Brooks will come speak to you as soon as he has them.” Unable to fully process what just transpired, Liam nods in understanding and Lucy dashes back out of the room.

“What’s going on?”

He can hear the weariness in Jennifer’s voice and he turns to her, taking in the line of sweat that has formed at her hairline before sitting on the edge of the bed. “You have a fever and they took more blood to see why.”

“It’s hot in here, and I don’t feel good.” She whines, her pouting lower lip trembling.

“I know Baby.” Frowning, he presses a kiss to her forehead, hot and clammy against his lips before picking up the cup of half melted ice chips from the counter next to her bed. “Here, this will help you cool off a bit.” Using the spoon he left in the cup, he scoops up a few chips as she lifts her head slightly, parting her lips to allow him to feed her the ice. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she relaxes, giving him an affectionate look as her head sinks into the pillow. “Good?” She nods, opening her mouth for him to feed her more. “The baby’s heartrate is still okay… it hasn’t gotten higher.”

“I know. I can hear it.” She struggles to stay awake, each blink taking longer than the last and just as Liam thinks she’s drifted off to sleep, they open again. “Liam.”  She swallows hard, gazing up at him pleadingly. “If it comes to me or the baby, promise me you’ll…”

“Don’t.” Squeezing his eyes shut against the look in hers, he shakes his head. “Don’t ask me to choose Jennifer.”

He feels her fingers graze his cheek before she presses her thumb into the furrow between his brows, and he draws in a shaky breath, relaxing under her touch. She always did that, when she was telling him not to take things so seriously, or anytime he was upset or stressed, and she was worried about him. It worked without fail, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in whatever issue he was facing. “I’m afraid you may have to… my love.”

Taking her hand from his face, he stands, turning away from the name he used for her. She speaks his name softly, her voice dripping with emotion, imploring him to face her and make the promise that he would save their child’s life over hers. Doing so would be the compassionate thing to do, to bring her comfort and ease her mind that no matter what happened to her in the coming hours, their child would have a chance at life. Perhaps if he were the husband she believed him to be, if he were a stronger man, he could turn around and make that vow… but it’s a promise he knows he wouldn’t keep, and he won’t lie to her. His decision would weigh on him for the rest of his life, potentially destroying his marriage to the woman he was desperately holding onto, but he would choose her. In a heartbeat he would choose her. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his unborn child, he did with all his heart, and with every pregnancy milestone that passed, he felt more and more like the father he became when he saw those two little lines on the pregnancy test. But Jennifer meant everything to him, she was his world, and he couldn’t bear a life without her by his side.

“I know it’s not an easy choice for you to make Liam…” She continues behind him as he cravenly remains facing the other direction, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He doesn’t know what’s worse, not being able to give his wife the comfort she so desperately needed or being such a coward that he couldn’t face looking at her as he told her the truth. “…but I also know what a good man you are and if it should get to that point… you’ll make the right decision.”

“Jennifer…” Sighing heavily, he rakes his fingers through his hair before turning around to see Dr Brooks return with urgency. “Have you found something Doctor?” He asks, grateful for the interruption.

“I have.” Dr Brooks replies before dropping his gaze to speak to Jennifer directly. “Since your last set of labs, your white blood cell count has become extremely elevated, indicating a significant infection, and we must perform an exploratory laparoscopy posthaste to find the source.”

Exhaling slowly through his nose, Liam runs his hand across his lips, pinching his chin as he considers the doctor’s words. There was no doubt that they needed answers, and a first hand look would certainly provide them, but he did not relish the idea of her undergoing surgery while she was pregnant with their child. “Would there be any benefit in trying to find the source of the infection through other diagnostic means first?” Liam asks, watching Jennifer’s brows draw slowly together as she stares blankly between him and the doctor.

“Unfortunately we no longer have the luxury of time Your Majesty, and there are no other diagnostic means to try. Because Queen Jennifer is pregnant, our diagnostic imaging options are quite limited, and the laparoscope will allow me to see what can’t be seen on ultrasound. When I have a better understanding of what’s going on, I can determine what steps need to be taken, but I’m afraid this is the only way I can do that.”

For several seconds, Jennifer continues to stare at the doctor before turning her confused gaze to Liam. “I don’t understand… What is he talking about Liam?”

“You have an infection My Love, and Dr Brooks is going to take you into surgery to find where it is.” He explains, stepping forward to rest his hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t want to have surgery.” Her chin puckers, and her eyes flit to her abdomen before meeting his again. “What if he cuts the baby?”

“Surgery is performed successfully on pregnant women every day Your Majesty.” Dr Brooks assures her. “We have the best anesthesiologist on board and Dr Colle will be present the entire time monitoring the health of the baby.”

“But…” She argues.

“You don’t have a choice Jennifer. They have to do this to fix you.” Giving her shoulder a light squeeze, Liam catches Dr Brooks’ eye. “Give us a moment please.” The doctor bows, taking his leave as Liam sits halfway on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressed against Jennifer’s side with his other foot anchored to the floor. She watches him, wide red-rimmed eyes swimming with tears and her trembling lip tucked between her teeth. Understandably, she’s scared. He is too, and he wants nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and tell her she doesn’t have to go, they will try something else... But he knew in his heart the doctor was right, they were running out of time. Forcing himself to ignore the gripping pain in his chest, he reaches out to cup her chin in his palm, tugging her lip free with his thumb. “Don’t be afraid My Love, everything’s going to be fine. The surgery will be over before you know it and I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back. You just have to be strong for a little while longer… can you do that for me?”

Jennifer nods rapidly, sniffling with her lip back between her teeth, “Okay…” She whispers in a squeaky voice, her breath catching as she attempts to reach out for him, too weak to raise her arms more than a few inches.

Slipping his arm beneath her shoulders, he lifts her into an embrace and she burrows her face in his neck, trembling as she grasps the fabric of his shirt tightly in her hands. “You’re the bravest person I know Jennifer, you can do this.” He assures her, rubbing her back until she stops shaking and her breath evens out. From the direction of the open door, he hears Lucy softly clear her throat and he knows it’s time for her to go. “That’s our cue…” He whispers, trying to control the emotion in his voice as he pulls back, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips before gently lowering her back down.

“They are ready for you, Your Majesty.” Lucy smiles comfortingly as she begins unwrapping the bandage around Jennifer’s stomach that holds the fetal heart monitor in place, while a male nurse crouches down at the foot of the bed, presumably unlocking the wheels.

Reluctantly, Liam begins to stand, but is stopped short by Jennifer, gripping his arm as she cries out his name in a panicked voice. Placing his hands on either side of her to support his weight, he leans down, resting his forehead against hers. “Be brave.” He whispers against her lips. “I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too…” She cries, her eyelashes wet from her tears. “I love you so much.”

Her hold on his arm relaxes as he kisses her again, first on the lips then her forehead before he stands, following beside the bed with her hand in his until the two nurses wheel her out of the room. Following them into the hall, he watches until they’ve turned the corner and she’s out of sight before turning to Bastien, standing at his post outside the door. “I trust the surgical area was secured?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Bastien affirms with a nod. “Only medical staff is allowed in the operating room, but Mara and Patrick will be standing guard outside.” Bastien clears his throat, looking at Liam as though he’s mulling something over in his mind. “Sir, may I… may I trouble you for an update on Her Majesty’s condition?”

“I’m afraid we still don’t know, but I’m hopeful the surgery will provide some much needed answers. I must thank you for getting her here Bastien, without you and Lord Maxwell, I don’t know what might have happened.”

“There is no need to thank me Sir.” Bastien holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Queen Jennifer has become very dear to me, as are you. I will be praying for your family.”

“Thank you, Bastien. We are very grateful for your friendship.” Liam assures him, forcing a smile that surely looks as pitiful as it feels. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Bastien nods, his steel grey eyes already sweeping the hallway.

Closing the door behind him, Liam’s gaze locks on the empty space made by his wife’s absence and he feels a tightening in his chest, like a fist squeezing his heart. Every moment of sadness, fear, and frustration he’s pushed down since learning of Jennifer’s distress adds to the crushing wave of emotion, threatening to consume him as he presses his fist firmly against his lips to stop himself from crying out. His vision blurs and he staggers across the room, barely making it to the couch before his knees buckle and he collapses onto the seat. Silent tears flood his cheeks as he leans forward, trying to control his breathing as he holds his head in his hands. Please God, make them find what’s wrong. Don’t take her from me. She’s all I have. The only thing that matters. She’s my angel, a beacon of light in a world that’s all too often dark. I love her more than life itself and I can’t bear to lose her. Please save her God… please save my wife. I’m begging you to save her.

Bastien’s deep voice, muffled by the closed door reaches Liam’s ears, startling him out of his silent prayer. “What the hell are you doing here? Have you lost your damn fool mind?” There is no mistaking the shock and anger behind his words and Liam knows exactly who he’s talking to... Drake. “He doesn’t want to see you Drake, especially at a time like this.”

“He’s the one who called me!”

Grabbing a few tissues from the box on the table in front of him, Liam wipes the tears from his face as the men in the hallway continue their conversation in voices too low to make out more than a few heated words. “Let him in Bastien.” Liam calls out. Drake enters immediately, taking tentative steps into the room before stopping several feet away, averting his eyes as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Thank you for coming.” Liam mutters, dropping his gaze to the floor. There was so much that needed to be said, so much to atone for, but he wasn’t capable of doing so at the moment. Not when his entire being was wracked with worry for Jennifer and the baby. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone have an uncomfortable conversation that was long overdue.  

“Yeah man… of course I would come.” Drake pauses, scuffing his brown leather boot on the floor. “Thanks for calling me… you didn’t have to do that.”

“She would have wanted you here.” And I needed my brother… The thought surprises him. He had long since let go of the anger he held over what Drake had done but the hurt was still present, and he doesn’t know when he started to think of Drake as his brother again… or if he ever truly stopped.

Time passes in awkward silence, Drake’s pacing footfalls the only sound as Liam remains seated, pitched forward with his forehead resting in his palm and his eyes closed, feeling the raw burn of acid in the back of his throat from the thoughts running through his mind, each one worse than the last. They were only supposed to be looking… Why is it taking so long?  Lifting his head to check the time on the inscribed watch Jennifer had given him, Liam sees Dr Brooks turn into the room. His pulse quickens as he leaps to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his shin from its impact with the table as he assaults the man with questions. “What is it Doctor? How is my wife? Is she going to be alright?”

“Her Majesty is still in surgery with Dr Colle.” Dr Brooks’ eyes shift to Drake and he forcibly clears his throat.

Taking in the doctor’s grave expression, Liam draws in a slow breath, squaring his shoulders to steel himself against the blow that he knew was coming as his father’s words echo in his mind. Focus Liam, only you are in control of your emotions. “You may speak freely in front of Mr. Walker.”

“Very well. King Liam, under normal circumstances I wouldn’t be here, but being who you are, and who we are performing surgery on, I felt it prudent to give you an update myself.” Dr Brooks pauses, reaching up to adjust his wire rimmed glasses and Liam waves his hand, urging him to continue. “Her Majesty has peritonitis, caused by a perforated appendix. Peritonitis is an inflammation of the peritoneum, the tissue that lines the inner wall of the abdomen and covers most of the abdominal organs. If not treated properly, it can rapidly spread into the bloodstream and she could become septic. To prevent that from happening, I need to go back in there, remove any infected or damaged tissue and essentially clean the inside of her abdomen.”

Liam’s heart thunders in his chest, so hard he can hear it in his ears and he feels a coldness spread across his cheeks and around the back of his neck before it trails down his spine, almost making him shiver. “And what about my child? Has the baby been affected?” He asks, swallowing hard against the lump that has formed in his throat.

“The baby did well in the first stage of surgery but at this point it’s unclear how extensive the tissue damage is and what organs may be involved. Dr Colle and I will do what we can to save the pregnancy, but please understand, our priority is the Queen’s health.”

“I understand. Thank you Dr Brooks.”

_____________

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[yepokokfine]

New OC’s

Hey guys! I’m going to introduce some new OC’s. I’m new to this so tell me if I suck lmao.

I’m going to start with their name, traits, age, character/personality.

Male:

Ashton Berry; he’s 22, brunette, and super sweet. He’s got huge blue, curious eyes and he’s super intelligent, pretty much always knowing the answer. He got straight A’s in high school which, of course, he was always made fun of for. His mom and dad both passed away from alcoholism and drugs, forcing him to live with his grandmother, so he vows to never do anything that had to do with their death (heroin, alcohol, etc). He gets what it’s like to be addicted, so he tries to help whomever he can with their issues. He met Eli in high school, and since neither of them really had enough money to live on their own, they’re now living together as roommates. Grew up in England but moved to USA with Eli when they were both 19. He thinks he is straight, but is very open-minded. He’s thought of as the druggie who lived in the hood, but tries to let everyone know that he’s much different than this image portrayed of him. He’s very empathetic and loves everyone, which can be a blessing as well as a curse. He has terrible anxiety he doesn’t like talking about except with Eli. Eli gets it. If he sees someone on the street and doesn’t have money on him when he wants to give as much as he can, he kinda freaks out. He feels as if that if he’s not helping others, he’s not doing his part. He’s not doing all he can. He’s not being the best he can possibly be. Empathy is great in the sense that he knows what people are going through a lot of the time as well as how to deal with it.

Elijah Shaws; he’s 22 as well, got almost jet black hair with green eyes. He grew up in England with Ashton as his best friend in elementary school. When he started in middle school, though, his shoulders started to dislocate frequently, requiring surgery on both shoulders in 6th grade. That being said, he got genetically tested for a disorder called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, a hyper-mobility disorder, and was tested positive. As a result of all the physical problems, he could no longer go to school or enjoy sports. He had many mental problems beginning in middle school as well. He suffered from bipolar disorder, which he was finally diagnosed with after years of being misdiagnosed with depression. His parents were very supportive and loved him no matter what, but were strongly Christian. He told them he was bi around age 15, being told that it was his choice, but they would not condone it (meaning if he said he had a crush on a guy and wanted him to come over or to go hang out with him, the answer would be no; so, therefore, he never told them when he had any crushes, especially the crush he had on Ashton). Him and Ash often hung out, although Ash did go to public school, and Eli went to a school kind of known for trouble makers that don’t go to school, who usually skip, so the school hours were 8am-12pm, giving him flexibility. He did not need it because he was a troublemaker, obviously, he needed it because he had many doctors appointments. He got made fun of a lot because he was accused of faking injuries, and called an attention-whore. He was also open with his sexuality, causing many other issues. He’s known as the emo eboy pretty much everywhere in his small town in New York, and he likes it.

Cameron Jackson; he’s 20, vastly different from his friends (Ash and Eli). He grew up in upstate New York with his very wealthy parents, his mother a well known scientist and his father a neurosurgeon. He lived with his parents and 3 older sisters until he was 17, because his parents wanted him to have fun, enjoy the world, and be independent. He has golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes and is an aspiring musician, his family and girlfriend, Kyia, very supportive. He plays piano by ear and has tried to read music but can never sight read or play and read it at the same time. His parents have always wanted to support him financially, and for the most part always have, but he likes to think that he pays for things on his own. He has a job at an animal shelter that Kyia introduced him to. He lives in his own apartment, but is thinking about buying a 2 bedroom house for him and Kyia and whoever else ;) Kyia doesn’t move incredibly fast, as she’s more traditional with romance, but they’ve been together since 15 and known each other since middle school, so he’s trying to find a good time to (hopefully) propose. He’s fully straight but has no issue with anyone who labels themselves differently. He’s always been the preppy type, but never likes to brag about money and is always willing to help anyone who needs it since he has more than enough.

Female:

Kyia Bell; she’s 24, the oldest of the group, Cam’s proud girlfriend. She has beautiful dyed lilac hair, and mesmerizing blue eyes. She’s from an average family and grew up in Missouri with them. She moved to New York with her dad after her parents divorced at age 13. Cam is four years younger than her, so she met him through a friend of her dads at that same age. She really had no childhood issues that would deliberately cause rebellion, but went through a phase in her teens where she would do drugs, go to parties, and get hammered almost every night. Her dad trusted her and let her out a lot of the time, although she had lied to him a lot. She ran away at some point in the 10th grade, but had a near death experience when she was on the streets, which caused her to be put back in her dads care until she was 19. She has many regrets, but goes to a Christian church group every Wednesday that’s very therapeutic for her. She loves Cam with all her heart and has told him, but she’s so scared that if she gives too much to him, he might use that against her. She’s had one too many betrayals in her lifetime to just jump into one’s arms. She definitely sees a future with him, but is very traditional with romance (again), and wants to get married before moving in together or doing anything more. She works at the animal shelter with Cam and loves it. She is open to anyone romantically, but wouldn’t say she’s just pan. She doesn’t really want to put a label on it. To her it doesn’t really matter. No one knows (yes, even Cam) that she lives with a girl named Aura that she met on the streets. Both of them are pretty much squatters, and she knows she can just ask Cam and in an instant, all her dreams of a big house would come true, but she’s independent. Plus, he’ll think she’s pathetic, right? Not being able to afford an apartment, spending the only money she has on more heroin? Yeah. He doesn’t know.

Aura King (meaning the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, thing, or place); she’s 21, living on the streets with Kyia. She thinks her mom is still living, but hasn’t gotten in contact with her in years, for last time she did see her, she was an abusive mess. Aura was taken away from her single mom when she was 6, and has no idea who her dad is and isn’t sure she wants to know. She was put into an orphanage, often being fostered but never adopted. When she turned 18, she booked it out of the orphanage and started living on the streets, meeting Kyia when Aura was 18 and living with her since she was 19. She’s gotten into many drugs, but really is just addicted to cigarettes. She’s done heroin, and Kyia does it very often, but is not addicted to anything but nicotine. Her hair is shaved on one side and long on the other, it’s color being a dark brown/black. She has hazel eyes. She needs financial help and/or a good paying job and knows Kyia would be able to help, but doesn’t want to bother her or be a burden.

Alexina David (meaning defending); she’s 23, and just moved to New York with her sister from where she grew up in California. She and her sister are beautiful Asian girls, although they are very hesitant on sharing with anyone who their parents are, apparently they were not good people. She’s a very young and successful accountant, carrying on her adopted family’s business. She grew up with 7 siblings and loving adopted parents who, unfortunately, never got to spend much time with her or her sister, Belva. Her and Belva moved out when she was 18, coming to New York only 6 months ago after nearly 5 years of renting in California near their parents. Their parents now are very accepting, so Alexina shares just about everything with them, except the things she thinks will worry them. She never wants to worry them or hurt them. She is a recovering bulimic, still going to therapy from time to time. Belva doesn’t know and to Alexina, she doesn’t have to, ever. She’s never going to voluntarily stress her sister out. No. Not when Bel already has so much on her plate.

Belva David (meaning beautiful view); she’s 19, the youngest of the group, hanging out with Aura, whom she met at a mental hospital right when she turned 19. Bel has lots of issues with suicidal thoughts and has attempted 3 times in her lifetime. She shares everything with her sister now, although she used to be the complete opposite - quiet and closed off. But after the 3rd attempt caused her to go to a mental hospital, she was done hiding. She wanted to get better and, slowly, was doing exactly that. She hangs with her sister a lot, even though she hangs out with Aura more. Her sister is a worry wart, so Bel knew that she pretty much had to hang with Alex so that she wouldn’t get suspicious or upset. Belva’s trying to find a girl to be more than just a friend to her, but she still hasn’t found the right person. Aura’s straight, right? Yeah. She’d think Bel was crazy if she ever said anything about her little (big) crush

Things I will write:

Emeto

Whump

Injury

I’ll write many things honestly. I’m open to new things (obviously that aren’t on the things I don’t write list)

Marvel (mostly irondad! and spiderson!)

Things I won’t write:

NSFW

Omo

Y/N or reader x anyone else

Thanks for reading!!!! Any requests? Send them to me! Anything is appreciated. Thanks :)

[sfgooglebooks]

Tapestry: To Kiss in the Shadows by Lynn Kurland, pages 16-19, 20, 21-22

Jason of Artane rode through the barbican, cursing his father, his next older brother, and the weather, the last of which had been foul for the past pair of fortnights and was fair now only after he'd suffered out in it for a month. The early morning sunlight streamed down fiercely, as if it sought to pound good cheer into him with its rays. He stifled a hearty sneeze in his sleeve and wondered why he'd ever agreed to humor his father by following his brother from one end of the island to the other.

It had been a miserable journey from Artane, he had been sent on a useless errand to distract him from his true purpose, and he was certain he'd caught a healthy case of the ague the night before from having to sleep in a drafty stable instead of the nice warm inn he'd selected. He supposed he had only himself to blame for the latter. If he'd kept his cloak pulled together and his lips clamped shut, he wouldn't have been recognized. Instead, he'd given his name when asked and let his cloak fall away from the blood-red ruby in the hilt of his sword. The usual reaction had occurred.

Men had crossed themselves.

Women had screamed and fainted.

Jason had sighed in disgust, downed the tankard of ale he'd managed to obtain, flipped a coin to a speechless patron in return for the rough bread and hunk of cheese he had filched from him on his way out the door, then sough out the most comfortable part of a hayloft for his bed. Such, he'd supposed, was the lot of a man who had squired for the lord of Blackmour.

That lord would have found the tale vastly amusing.

Jason found the kink in his neck and his rapidly stuffing nose anything but.

He sneezed again as he road into the bailey unchallenged. Guardsmen who would have demanded any other man's name merely gaped at him and weakly waved him past. Jason knew he should have been amused. After all, 'twas seldom that a man of a score and five had such a fiercesome reputation without having done much to deserve it.

It wasn't that he was a poor swordsman. Even he, modest though he considered himself to be, was well aware of his ability. One could not be the son of Robin of Artane and not have some small talent for swordplay granted him. But whatever mastery he had of his blade, he had paid for himself by time spent in the lists.

He also didn't mind that the souls about him suspected him of all manner of dark habits. He had been first page, then squire, then willing guest of Christopher of Blackmour for most of his life. Some of the mystery surrounding the man had been bound to have cloaked Jason as well. He knew the way of things, so idle gossip and charms spat out in haste when he passed didn't trouble him.

What did trouble him, though, was the fact that he'd finally found a purpose for which his soul burned, a cause so just and noble that it drove sleep from him at night, and here he was still unable to pursue it. Obstacle after obstacle had been placed in his path - lately and most notably the task of finding his brother and delivering a message from their father.

Jason scowled. It was his father's ploy, of course, to keep him from his course. But it would serve Robin naught. Jason was determined. Never mind that his course was one his father had forbidden him to pursue and one his former master had counseled him against.

But what else was he to do with himself? His eldest brother, Phillip, had estates aplenty and the burden of someday inheriting their father's title to harrow up his mind and try his soul. His other brother Kendrick burned like a flame, driving himself from conquest to conquest, as if he sought to force a dozen lifetimes into the one he would be allotted. Jason had no stomach for the tidiness of Phillip's life or the incessant roaming of Kendrick's. But he did have the stomach for a bit of crusading. A goodly bit. A bit that might take him out of England for years and give purpose to his life.

That it might also brighten up his reputation was nothing to sneeze at either.

But he sneezed just the same, all over a guardsman, who hastily backed away as if Jason had been spewing curses at him instead of the contents of his nose.

Jason scowled at the man and continued on his way towards the stables. At least his path there was clear - and likely only because his sire hadn't been able to find a way to thwart him so far from home. No doubt he would find more distractions awaiting him in France, should he by any chance find Kendrick, discharge his duty, then sail to the continent before he was too old to hoist a sword. But he would never have the chance to set foot on yonder shore if he didn't finish his business on the current shore, which was, of course, why he found himself chasing the king's court from London north, following his brother's erratic trail, and sleeping in haylofts with inadequate bedding.

The only positive thing to come from his journey so far was that he hadn't found the king at a monastery, as was often his custom. Jason knew he'd have trouble enough with the king's courtiers and whatever clergy he found himself surrounded by without scores of monks trying to exorcise the demons from him as well.

He dismounted in front of the stables and found a cringing stableboy at his side. He handed the lad his reins, knowing that no one would dare abuse his horse or pilfer his saddlebags. He would likely find them in the usual place - well away from any living soul.

Jason looked about him but found no sign of his brother in amongst the horseflesh. Perhaps Kendrick was romping out in the fields with some fair wench, crushing flowers and hearts beneath his heels with equal abandon.

The thought of flowers made his nose begin to twitch, so he decided to leave the fields for a later time and concentrate his search first on the castle itself.

Jason climbed the stairs and started down the passageway, looking for a likely door. He hadn't taken a handful of paces before he saw a woman standing outside a door with her head bowed. Her hand was pressed against the wood, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to push the door open. She wasn't a servant; that much he could see by her clothing. Then why did she wait without?

He approached, heralding the like with a mighty sneeze stifled in the crook of his elbow. He dragged his sleeve across his face, immediately relinquishing the idea of making any kind of agreeable impression. He looked at the woman but could not see her very well. The place where she stood was filled with the deepest shadows in the passageway.

"My lady?" he said politely.

She did not lift her bowed head to look at him. She was silent for a moment, then acknowledged him with a soft, "My lord."

"Do you require aid?"

"Aid?" she asked. "Nay, my lord, but I thank you for the offer."

"Do you require something inside there?" he whispered.

She did not look up, even at that. "I thought to fetch my stitchery, but I daresay there isn't a need for that now."

"No doubt your gear will keep," Jason agreed, fully intending to wish her good fortune, bid her farewell, and then continue on his search.

But two things stopped him.

One was that he'd heard his brother's name begin to be bandied about inside the room. And the second was the woman who stood before him, cloaked in shadows, listening to the drivel being spewed inside that room as if she needed to hear it. He stood not two paces from her but suddenly felt as if they two stood alone in the world. It was all he could do to breathe normally.

Who was this woman?

She stepped back from the door and pulled the hood of her cloak up around her face. And the moment was gone.

"I thank you for your kindness, my lord," she said. "I'm sure my things will be safe enough."

Jason had his doubts about that, but he also had no desire to enter the room to find out. He was also beginning to wonder if he might need to break his fast soon. Obviously, he was faint from hunger and from the sneezes that threatened to overwhelm him at every turn. He had no ties to the woman before him. There was no good reason to feel as though the last thing he should do was walk away from her. By the saints, he had no idea what she even looked like! He shook his head to clear it. The sanest thing he could do was turn tail and flee.

Aye, that was wise. But he could not leave her where she was, not with that talk that was going on inside that room.

"Might I es... ah- ahchoo-" he said with a mighty sneeze. He dragged his sleeve across his face and tried to regain his dignity. "Might I escort you to wherever you're going?" he said again. Perhaps the sunshine would burn his illness - and his sudden madness - from him before it overcame him completely.

"There is no need," the woman protested.

"My mother would be disappointed in me if I showed such a lack of courtesy," he said. "And who am I to disappoint her?"

"Very well," the woman said with a soft sigh. "But it won't be far. I'm only to go to the barbican gates."