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1-800-seo · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Lee Taeyong X Gender Neutral Reader

Song: The Louvre - Lorde (lyrics mentioned)

Genre: Fluff/Artist!You + Poet!Taeyong

Warnings: suspicions of cheating, alcohol consumption, slightly tipsy-ness, some kissing, implied sexual content but not explicit.

Word Count: 4000 approx.

Summary: As wandering, travelling college students on a gap year, meeting each other in the Louvre was purely coincidental, and usually summer flings weren’t your thing, but Taeyong was different. And like a moth to a flame, you were entranced.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The floorboards creak as the tour group shuffles down the hallways of the Louvre, passing many other tourists. The tour group leader stops at another painting and begins his explanation of the painting you see in front of you; well, you would be able to see it if you weren’t at the back of the group. Craning your neck to see, you stand on your tiptoes, before realising it is all in vain. Forgetting the other artwork, you swivel to see another painting on the wall adjacent to it and peer upon it instead. A young icy blond haired man stands beside you, examining the artwork too. He wears a baggy striped t-shirt that shows his delicate collarbones, tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans, a necklace gently hanging around his neck. He looks positively comfy, but effortlessly chic; you can’t help but stare at his chiselled jawline either. The man looks as if he was carved out of marble, angular lines with delicate features, he was stunningly beautiful. And suddenly, you realise you’ve been staring way too long when he turns his head and catches you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, but you sense no malice in his voice as a warm smile creeps up his face. Looking at the ground, the painting, anywhere, you apologise; “Ah, I’m sorry… uhm I like your outfit.” You reply gingerly, unsure of what to say to remedy the situation. “Thank you! It’s new.” He sits down on a near bench, eyes trained on the painting ahead. “As great as this painting is, I cannot stand scenes of suffering - I really struggle to find the beauty in them.” He blurts out after a moment. “Why’s that?” You curiously reply. You’ve always liked paintings from the romanticism era, the painting in question being ‘The Raft of the Medusa’ by Theodore Gericault. “For instance, this painting shows their suffering, and just that itself is not nice to see, but the colour palette is so murky to me. What do I know though, I’m no artist.” You understand what he means, as an art major, you had to analyse this piece one semester. “I get where you are coming from, the aging of the paints makes it appear murkier than the artist intended, and I think that adds to the whole ‘suffering’ aspect.” As you end your sentence, you turn your head and realise the tour group has moved on. You pat him on the shoulder and point in the direction of the crowd. He swears under his breath before standing up and leading the way back with the group. What a beautiful stranger.

Once the tour group has ended, you vacate the Louvre, more sightseeing to do. After a busy day of staring up at the Arc De Triomphe and climbing the stairs of the Eiffel tower, you end up walking by the Louvre again since you previously spotted a cute cafe you wanted to try out. Now dusk, the water display is illuminated, bathed in light and bubbling. You see a familiar figure sat on the wall beside it, looking slightly lost and reading from a notebook. Unsure whether to help, you continue walking on to the cafe, this would only take a minute or two. Once done, with two coffees in hand, you walk back to the Louvre and the figure still sitting on the wall.

“Are you ok? You seem a bit lost?” You gently ask, testing the waters. The man from the gallery looks back up to you, big expressive eyes staring back, and you sense a hint of worry in them. “Hi, yeah, I’m a bit lost. My phone died and I can’t find my way back to my hotel.” He says, forlorn. “Well, I bought you a coffee, if you’d like it, and I don’t mind helping! I can maybe help with directions.” You hand the coffee towards him, and he takes it from you, eyes lighting up as he does. “Aww thank you! That would mean a lot to me, and thank you for the coffee.” You sit down on the wall next to him as you pull up Google maps on your phone. “It’s no problem. Where are you staying? I’ll put it into maps and have a look.” “I’m staying at the mur de coquelicots hotel.” “Oh no way! I’m staying there too! I know exactly where it is, we can walk back together.” “That sounds great.” He replies with a smile, eyes shining.

The pair of you walk through the city as the sun sets and the moon begins to shine. Conversation flows easily, and you find yourself totally enamoured with this stranger. He’s bubbly and friendly, charismatic and charming, simultaneously shy and chatty. It’s hard not to stare as he speaks to you, it’s an added bonus that he’s gorgeous. Unfortunately, the walk is over quicker than you’d like and you two enter through the lobby of the cheap but nice enough hotel. You make your way into the elevator with him, and press your floor. “Well it was nice meeting you. I just realised I don’t even know your name.” You giggle. “I’m Y/N.” “Thank you for your help Y/N, I’m Taeyong by the way.” “You’re welcome, goodnight Taeyong.” You bid your farewell and exit the lift, the doors opening as you finish your sentence.

As you reach the door to your room, you fiddle with the key card, excitement bubbling up inside of you. What a lovely guy. You flop down on the comfy hotel bed once you’re inside of the room. Spending all summer in Paris was becoming more and more like a dream come true.

The sun shines through the translucent curtains as you gather your things into your tote bag and get ready to leave the hotel room for breakfast. You wander over to the quaint bakery across the road from the hotel, and spot a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor seating with a newspaper. The blonde haired man sports a beret, and looks positively relaxed as he munches away on a croissant. You pick out a pastry, before walking over. “Is this seat taken?” You ask, and pull out the chair to sit down. “No, feel free to sit.” He replies with a smile. You sit opposite to him and shift in your seat to get comfortable. “What a lovely morning, right?” His smile beams as he looks your way. “Definitely! I love the warm weather.” You say, “it’ll be perfect to paint in.” “Oh so, you’re a painter? That’s cool, Paris is perfect for inspiration. It’s certainly aiding me.” “Yeah, I’m a painter, I’m here as an international student on study leave. What do you do?” “I’m an English literature major, specialising in poetry, so I’m here finding inspiration for poems of my own.” “Well, you’re certainly at the right place. Speaking of inspiration, I’m going to visit the Palace of Versailles today if you’d like to come with me and are not busy. I thought since you’re alone here, you might want to?” You ask, rubbing your hands over your arms, a slight shiver of nervousness at your sudden offer. “That sounds amazing! Thank you for the invite. What time are you thinking of leaving?” His eyes light up at your offer and your nervousness is put at bay. “Around 12pm, and you’re very welcome.” You reply. “Sounds good, I’ll meet you here at 12pm then?” He responds chirpily. “Sounds good to me.”

Okay I know that you are not my type (still I fall.) I'm just the sucker who let you fill her mind

(But what about love?)

Nothing wrong with it

Supernatural

Just move in close to me, closer, you'll feel it coasting

This wasn’t something you usually did. Asked our strangers or chose to spend time with ones you are not familiar with. But it was almost a supernatural attraction. He was not your usual type at all, but something strong and lulling was moving over you. Something indescribable, beyond enchanting.

Walking around the luscious gardens of the Palace of Versailles was just a sight to behold. The beauty that is held within was stunning. It was as you strolled around it that Taeyong took your hand in his; so casually that you didn’t think anything of it at first, but then it hit you and your heart fluttered. You smiled wide as he looked at you with tender eyes. It’s not wrong to move this fast right? Nothing wrong with a summer fling.

Nothing wrong with it, supernatural.

As the two of you walk around, conversation flows freely. You speak of previous art pieces and he talks about writing, he tells you about how long he’s been in Paris and so many other things. Before you know it, you two find yourselves under a grand stone archway, and conversation trails off delicately. “You’re so beautiful, I love the way the sunlight hits you. I think you’d make a beautiful painting yourself.” He says unexpectedly. A bubble rises through your chest, and you know what you want to do. You lean forward, placing your hands gently either side of his head and you kiss him. His soft lips meet yours and you are drinking each other in. The kiss is brief but heavenly all the same. As you pull away you notice a light blush over his cheeks and a dorky grin on his face. You feel the same grin on yours.

After a lovely day together walking around the palace’s gardens and opulent rooms, you decide to head back and get some food together. Being students and not having a ton of money, you both decide to get food from a local convenience store and to eat it on the hotel room balcony. “What do you fancy eating?” He asks, his hand still grasped around yours as you peruse the items in the shop. “I think I fancy some quiche, what are you thinking?” “I think I’ll get some cheese and crackers.” He adds, checking out the foreign cheeses. Once the pair of you have your haul, you head back up to the hotel room, and lay out your spread on the balcony table. The sun is setting gently in the distance and it illuminates the skies in gentle peaches and pinks. In his company, it just feels so comfortable, so cosy.

A rush at the beginning.

At the shop, you also purchase a bottle of wine, and the two of you share it together. Perhaps the cosy feeling is from that, you don’t know, but either way; you enjoy being in his company and don’t regret talking to the beautiful stranger in the Louvre. After some time, you’re both positively tipsy, not drunk, just giggly and happy. Taeyong starts dancing on the balcony, languid movements and sharp ones intertwined into a beautiful choreography. You’re not quite sure how he learnt to dance this way, he deserves to be on a stage. But for tonight, you were his audience.

Drink up your movements, still I can’t get enough.

He flows freely, not unlike a puppet on a string, controlled by some unseen forces to move his body in ways you could never. “Where did you learn that dance?” You ask, intrigued to no end. “I’m freestyling, just making it up.” Of course, he’s beautiful, intelligent, kind, and talented. “That’s crazy, you’re amazing.” You reply, and he blushes at your compliment. “One minute, I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” He replies, and sets his phone down on the table. “See you in a sec.” Whilst he’s gone you sit and stare at the beautiful dusk sky that is out ahead. You’re aware that what you have with Taeyong is quite the whirlwind, but you really can’t find the space to care. There isn’t any damage being done, and you’re young so now’s the time to have fun and be carefree. You’re in Paris, maybe it’s called the City of Love for a reason?

As almost to interrupt your thinking, Taeyong’s phone buzzes on the table and the screen illuminates in front of you. You can’t help but see what the message says, it’s right there in front of you. The message is from “이 소연” and it reads: “Missing you, my dear, can’t wait to have you back in my life. Enjoy Paris <3”

Is it possible he has a partner? Were you not the only one? It’s entirely possible that you were just a summer fling to him, and he actually has a partner back home.

I overthink your punctuation use. Not my fault, just a thing that my mind do. A rush at the beginning. I get caught up, just for a minute.

Were you just getting caught up with everything? Did you really just rush into things without even a second thought. Of course, you were being naive, you didn’t even ask if he was single before kissing him. And yes, he reciprocated but what did that mean? You were just the enabler.

Alas, you had to move on with the night, getting suspicious of him and acting weird wouldn’t help right now. So when he comes back onto the balcony, you continue the night as normal, pushing down your feelings. Perhaps it was his sister. You really cannot presume. Despite your logical side being sensible, your emotional side still fought a battle. Warring to be front and centre of your thoughts. You know you can’t let it get the better of you though. And so, you carry on with the night, albeit slightly stilted now; and you make an excuse to go to bed earlier than you normally would. You scuttle off to your hotel room across the hall and settle in for the night. Thoughts swirling around and around in your mind.

Can you hear the violence? Megaphone to my chest, broadcast the boom, boom, boom.

The sun rises overhead, almost fully above the buildings as you nibble on your croissant quietly. The streets are starting to come to life as you watch from the local bakery with your morning coffee. Desperately, you try to put your mind at ease, try to push down the onslaught of intrusive thoughts; illogical as they come. After 20 minutes, you start to feel more at peace, you watch the dainty flowers sway in the morning breeze in their pot. You almost expect to feel worse when you see him. He approaches you, leather satchel hanging at his waist, and waves as he comes. Instead you don’t feel worse, you just feel oddly numb. Completely sensationless as you put on a smile in return to his wave. He sits down in the chair across from you, and places his satchel on the floor next to his chair.

“Good morning! How are you today? I hope you’re not hungover from the wine last night.” He says with a giggle. “I know I certainly am, but I’m trying to be positive.” He adds, and you notice his slightly ruffled bed head, must’ve been from a rough sleep. “Ahh, you certainly are doing a good job of being positive then,” you reply with a smile that reaches your eyes and crinkles them, “luckily, I don’t feel hungover. I’m just enjoying the morning slowly and as it comes.” Which is true, you decided you’d take today as it comes. “I’m glad you don’t feel too bad then. I’m just going to nip inside to get something to eat, do you want anything?” He rises from his chair and gestures to the shop door. “No thank you, I just finished a croissant before you came, but thanks anyway.” “No worries.” And he leaves to enter the boulangerie.

I’m just the sucker who let you fill her mind.

You didn’t want to make things awkward with Taeyong. It wasn’t worth it, at the end of the day, all you did was kiss him once. Perhaps you needed to find out more about him, get the full context at least. When Taeyong sits back down the conversation starts back up again and turns to family life. “So do you have any family back home?” You ask curiously. “What, in Korea? Yeah, I do. I have my parents back home and a sister. Yerin, she’s 15 and quite the handful. I miss her, but for now FaceTime calls will suffice.” He lets out a low chuckle at his own joke, making the situation a bit lighter. His answer doesn’t provide any clues to your questions though. “Aww that’s nice, I have a sister too. But she’s older than me. Do you have a partner at all?” You ask now, testing the waters. “Nope, just me, myself, and I.” “Same for me.” Well, that also doesn’t answer your questions. You’re pretty sure that the text earlier wasn’t from his sister, and you expect his mum to be down in his phone as a term of endearment; not a full name so it can’t be her. Is it better to give up the search? Maybe asking Taeyong more later would help. But what to say? Future you would deal with that. For now, you had the whole day ahead.

“So what do you have planned today?” He inquired now, breaking you from your thoughts. “I’m just going to go paint in the local park, do you fancy being my sitter? I need more anatomy practice.” “Ooh of course! I’ve never done anything like that before.” And so today’s plans were set. How could you pass up on the opportunity to paint someone built so divinely like Taeyong? Personal interests aside, Taeyong was made to be immortalised in artwork forever. His sharp jawline, large emotive eyes, and slim frame all coming together to create the perfect sitter for you. A painting of him, no matter the artist who painted it, should be hung in the Louvre. A masterpiece deserving of being viewed by everyone and adored.

Our thing progresses

I call and you come through

The spot you are situated in is perfect, a lush knoll leading out onto a tulip field, the many colours like a rainbow behind Taeyong. You’d decided to paint him in watercolour, partially because of the easy clean up, partially because you want to capture his true beauty, the delicate tones of his skin, hair, and eyes; the gentle dips of his collarbone, the sinewy muscle of his arms.

Taeyong poses quietly, the silence a comfortable one, as you begin painting him. He looks thoughtful, looking out into space behind you, he almost seems meditative, eyes blinking slowly and breathing even. As you mix the colour of his skin tone on your watercolour pan, you see him sigh, and wonder what he is thinking about. From what you know, Taeyong’s an introspective person, much like you, and perhaps that’s the mood he is in today. You are the same. It’s hard in the silence for your thoughts not to turn to the message. Intrusive thoughts fly around like bats in the night time; even if he was cheating, could you not push it aside for the sake of a summer fling? Logical thoughts cross out that of the intrusive ones - of course not, how could you be the other person in his relationship for the sake of selfishness? It’s important to be communicative, and if you have your worries - suspicions - then should you not speak to him about it? Sometimes things are better left unsaid, yes, but this is not one of them.

With a new resolve, you decide to talk to him come the evening. Clarification is what you need, and you must bolster up the courage to get it.

I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush

You know what they say about alcohol, it’s liquid courage, and after a glass of wine or two, you finally feel bold enough to approach Taeyong. You open your hotel room door, and cross the hallway to his. A sharp rap on the door brings you to Taeyong’s attention, and he pads across the room to open the door. You stand near the threshold, looking almost alarmed, like a deer in headlights. Perhaps you came underprepared and unrehearsed. “C-can I talk to you?” You ask, words stuttering on their way out. “Of course, come in.” He replies gently, sensing your unease as he gestures for you to come in.

Once you’re both situated on the balcony in those damn uncomfortable plastic chairs, you begin to talk. “Do you have a partner, Taeyong?” You fiddle with your hands, eyes glued to them in aversion from his eyes. “No, why?” He replies, head cocked to the side in confusion. “When you went to the bathroom the other day, your phone was on the table directly in front of me, and pardon me for breaking your privacy, but I couldn’t help but read the preview of the message that came up. It said “missing you, my dear, can’t wait to have you back in my life. Enjoy paris,” and then there was a love heart at the end. I’ve probably got the wrong end of the stick, but I’ve been so cautious because I don’t want to be that other person in a relationship. I don’t think you’re lying to me, I just wanted to be sure, and ask you since it’s been bothering me.”

Taeyong takes a hold of your hand in his and smooths his thumb over the back of it in a comforting gesture. “I promise darling, I’m not dating anyone. That was my crazy ex. I broke up with her roughly six months ago, and she’s still sending me random messages. The only reason why she knows about me being in Paris is because she keeps hounding my mother for information. She keeps mentioning about me being back in her life, but I promise to you that I have no intention of even seeing her or speaking to her. She’s a mad woman.” At his words you feel tension release inside your chest. Your body feels lighter and you feel a wave of relief. Thank goodness for that.

“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with that Taeyong, and thank you for clearing things up. None of this is my place but, I appreciate you filling me in.” Now you look into his eyes, the dark earthy spheres look back at you as the remaining sunlight gives them a glossy shine. You smile back and he leans forward, lips meeting yours in a kiss. You drink him in now, no longer hesitant to taste him. To him you taste so heavenly, the remaining mature hints of red wine mixed with something inherently just you, has him high with the feeling. He moves his hands to your waist now and you climb onto his lap, eager to be closer to him, to touch him. He fiddles with the hem of your shirt in his grip as you kiss down his neck now, lapping at the warm tan skin. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, and you nod in agreement.

Well, summer slipped us underneath her tongue,

Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession, Half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom floor, Use our eyes, throw our hands overboard.

The morning light spills into the room through the translucent dainty cream curtains as they flow in the wind. The window is open to let the summer air flow in, and you don’t feel a chill at all. Taeyong’s warm skin radiates a heat you’ve never quite experienced, it’s so homely and cosy. The feeling of your head on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat unlike any other else. It’s nice to just be held, to feel the closeness of another human being and feel utterly comfortable.

You think back to the portrait of him you painted yesterday, and somehow you think it’s your best piece. There’s nothing like being able to capture a person with the aura whole. The piece emits something wholly him, just him. You think that’s why it might be your favourite. Maybe someday they’ll hang it in the Louvre, you giggle to yourself at that thought and Taeyong stirs underneath you. “What’s so funny, baby?” He asks, spoken with a gruff morning voice low and gravelly. “I was thinking about your portrait, and I thought about how you could hang it in the Louvre. But only because it’s you.”

“They’ll hang us in the Louvre, down the back, but who cares, still the Louvre.” He replies, a blissed out look on his face. He’s right, maybe not about yourself, but about him. He might just be the ultimate muse.

But we’re the greatest

They’ll hang us in the Louvre

Down the back, but who cares - still the Louvre

thank you for reading! this fic is for the ‘Now Playing’ collab by @haechanblr and it was a joy to take part!! I hope everyone liked this hehe :))

If ur interested in more of my works my masterlist is here <3

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literary-spirit · 3 years

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Bonnie Bennett believed she'd finally discovered her good enough ending. Yet, like most things in her life good enough goes left and leaves her with another ending. Or, perhaps a fire beginning...Journey with everyone's favorite Bennett Witch to the Viking Era for much needed lessons in devotion, courtesy the Lothbrok brothers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

AN: Alright Bennett Fandom this one here is a bit different from what you're used to. Okay this one here is a bit different than I'm used to. Francesca has recently rediscovered Vikings and with it the sons of Ragnar. And don't you know she wouldn't rest until she brought our favorite Bennett Witch into their mess! As if our girl didn't already have her own problems. SMFH! So thanks to my lovely muse, here we are with a whole lot of trifling savagery that I'm just not so sure about. But as always I'll let you be the judge if this WIP lives to see another update. Flame it or acclaim it in comments.

“You know as much as I’ve savored the joy of tormenting you over the years-,” Klaus began.

“No,” Bonnie shook her head. She’d tried to go along with his final request. Really she did, but how could she? When in the end all he’d be was gone. “I’m sorry, bae. We’re not doing this.”

Rebekah’s eyes rolled. She released a drawn out exhale that hadn’t been necessary for her since wood ash and pointed stick tattoos were a thing. “Bonnie, don’t ruin this for him! Permit him whatever comfort he demands. He shoulders a burden you’d never be able to fathom. Can you not allow him to experience but one moment of grace? A moment Hope will undoubtedly cling to after he’s gone.”

“No, Rebekah! I’m not about to listen as the man I love gives us all a corny goodbye and pretend to be okay with it. And why the hell should Hope have a moment to cling to when she could have her father?” She gave her head another firm shake. “No, this is not okay with me,” her voice rose as she drilled visual holes through each of them. Klaus tried to shut her down with an arm around the shoulders but she curved him with a shrug, all while committing ocular homicide on him in the process. “So why the hell is it okay with you, Hybrid?” Her scorn riddled gaze darted from him back to his so called family. “Or any of you?”

“You must’ve been down on Bourbon sipping on that Absinthe again if you believe any of this shit is okay with us,” Marcel waved her off barely sparing her a glance. “We all just know Klaus is gonna do whatever Klaus wants no matter how any of us feels about it. The most dangerous place you can be when his mind’s made up is in his way. So I suggest you step out of it.”

Her neck snapped back as if she’d taken a two piece to the chin. “You think I’m afraid of the big bad wolf? I wasn’t at seventeen and if I thought for a second it would save him, I’d put his ass back in the dirt again. I take care of my own, Marcel. No matter the dangers or consequences,” she jabbed a thumb at her hybrid, “And make no mistake, that Original pain in the ass over there is mine.”

“Cute.” Marcel laughed as he rubbed at the corners of his mouth. “Bonnie, we’re his family. Each of us have known, feared, hated, respected, and loved him long before even your parents’ parents became an idea. Hell, even after everything he’s dragged me through, there’s not a drop of blood I wouldn’t bleed for him.”

“Then stand behind those words and do something, Marcel,” she pleaded, because at this point she wasn’t above begging for the only bright spot remaining in the dim bleakness that had become her life seven years before.

“What would you have us do, Bonnie?” Elijah questioned in a barely engaged tone.

Bonnie turned to consider him. A perpetual moroseness now cloaked the one she’d once believed to be noble. His arrogance hadn’t been quite the same since the restoration of his memories. More and more he’d begun to remind her of Finn. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Since discovering what Klaus planned to do, she’d toyed with an idea she’d vowed never to indulge. Yet, under the weight of impossible desperation such vows could not stand.

“The eternal witch spell should be evoked,” she said.

“By whom?” Kol questioned. His chocolate browns moved from Freya to Hope. When both appeared to know less than him his disbelieving gawk returned to her. “You?!” Laughter burst from his mouth. “Oh Darling, I’ve witnessed that spell make a supernatural mess of the most talented witches to ever recite a chant. There’s only one destined to master the eternal witch incantation and her sorcery is said to be unmatched.” His knowing gaze drifted to Hope, and then back to her. “There’s no way you’re powerful enough to undertake the task. You’re not even the strongest witch on this block.”

Bonnie flinched. Damn it, if Kol hadn’t DOA’ed her pride. When the hell did he jump on the Bennett hate train? To hear how far his opinion of her plummeted sort of burned.

She nodded. “Okay, if not me why not Davina. You tend to enjoy blowing her horn. If she’s all you claim her to be, get her here. I’ll happily bow down if her being greater than me will save him.” She jerked her head in Klaus’ direction.

“No!” Marcel barked.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Kol zipped across the distance separating them to tower over her. His original face no longer concealed by his human deception.

Klaus rocketed forward to place himself between she and Kol. “Step away from my fiancé, baby brother. For if you harm her then you’ll be joining me in the afterlife. To hell with your bloody dagger and box.”

Ignoring Kol’s and Klaus’ dagger and the box bit, her distressed stare collided with Freya’s. “What about you? Will you help me save your brother?”

“Bonnie, that spell is much too dangerous. Even for me.” The blondes eyes offered her a thousand apologies but not one solution. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it…not now.”

Her desperation bottomed out to despair as her gaze took a hail Mary launch to the supposedly most powerful witch in the room. “Hope?”

The room erupted. You’d think she’d offered the girl a crack pipe. When she was Hope’s age she was taking down well…her dad.

“Bonnie!” Elijah yelled.

“This is madness,” Rebekah growled, taking a step in their direction. “Nik tell her!”

“We’ve already talked about this, Bekah.” Marcel shook his head and tugged Rebekah back to his side. “That doesn’t concern us.” Bonnie heard Marcel mutter.

Klaus spun away from Kol to regard her. He grabbed her face and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Everything’s going to be alright, Love.” He whispered, before brushing his lips against hers. Liquid pain disturbed the stillness of his crystal blue stare and contradicted the hell out of his reassurance.

“How?” She tugged herself free of his grasp. “How’s everything going to be alright? You’ll be dead and then what? Life goes on? Fuck that! I’m not about to stand here and mourn a defeat I haven’t loss yet!” She whirled away and marched from the gathering. Her decision made.

Once out of sight, she hurried towards their bedroom. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. The barrier wouldn’t hold her hybrid, but the fraction of time it would provide may be all she needed to complete the spell. She fell to her knees next to the mattress. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from underneath the bed. The already prepared altar and ingredients slid out. She stared down at the athamae and exhaled. Second thoughts plagued her mental, but she shook them away. She’d come this far already. The time to bitch up and forget about it had come and gone. Now was the time to do and die, literally.

She picked up the dagger and called forth every ounce of mystical energy which bled through her veins. A swell of Bennett sorcery overwhelmed the room. Pictures rattled on the walls. The balcony doors blew open and the glass shattered. Furniture not nailed down whipped about the room like she’d caught a ride in a tornado. Steeling her nerves, she continued. She called forth her psychic energy, her huntress energy. Any and everything supernatural about her she offered to the Goddess of all in exchange for an eternity of knowledge and the fated eternal mate destined to help her defeat the Hollow.

After relinquishing her all to the Creator she sliced open her palm. Blood gushed from the wound and saturated the ingredients. A searing light illuminated the room. The bargain was struck and accepted. Now the sacrifice. She swallowed and raised the blade. Aiming it at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, no!” Klaus’ voice penetrated the white noise blaring throughout the room. “Love, don’t do this. You won’t survive.”

She opened her eyes. He stood just beyond the enchantment circle, attempting to force his way into the barrier. “Neither will you if I don’t. Besides, if it doesn’t work I’d rather be in the ground anyway than breathe without you, Klaus.”

“Bonnie, please,” he pled as he dropped to his knees. He slammed his fist against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. You have my word, Love!”

A sad smile flirted with her lips. “You’re lying, Klaus. If there was another way then it would already be the plan.” She plunged the blade into the cradle of her breasts. A piercing burn penetrated her chest.

“No!” Klaus’ bellow seared layers from her punctured heart. The storm of mystical energy whipping about ceased.

Her knees buckled. Klaus caught her before the ground could and cuddled her close. She attempted to talk, but a wheeze whistled pass her lips instead.

“No, Love, don’t speak.” He bit into his wrist and placed the bleeding extremity to her mouth. His blood might as well had been battery acid because she’d bet dollars to air it burned the same. Hacking coughs damn near shook her frame apart by the joints. “Why the sodding hell isn’t this working?”

“I-It’s the s-spell,” she managed to utter. “M-my death is the p-price of a-admission.”

Tears trickled from his eyes onto her face. “Why did I have to go and love you, Little Witch?” He demanded, looking beyond confused.

“B-Because its what we b-both needed at the time and no m-matter how this turns out I’ll always be indebted to you for giving me a reason. L-Love you, Hybrid…always and f-forever.” His face faded until nothing but darkness surrounded her.

Chapter 1

The abyss gave way to blinding lights. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. A cacophony of sounds battered her auditory senses. The eardrum rupturing racket nearly distracted her from the violent rocking motion. A violent rocking motion which would no doubt wrought absolute fuckery on her cyclic vomiting syndrome. Right along with the tang of salt-water, unwashed bodies, and rotten fish. The potpourri of funk came close to singeing the lining of her nostrils.

A familiar acrid burn tickled the back of her throat. On cue her belly spun a series of gold medal winning somersaults. Oh this was going to happen. Her lack of sight heightened her senses and made her that much more sensitive to all the upchuck factors swirling about her. Unable to continue to live in the darkest part of her denial and remain vomit free, she opened her eyes. The brightest day she'd ever had to tolerate greeted her light discriminating gaze. She closed her eyes once more. What in the extreme fuck? Was this some kind of hell dimension? Is that why she was only a five minute drive away from the damn sun? Oh Goddess no!

"Cade?!" She growled.

The acrid burn that flirted with the back of her throat developed a sour chunky consistency. Once again she forced her eyes open...and blinked. She was on a vessel that appeared to have hailed straight out of Vikings. Damning the unnecessary brightness and her afterlife in general, she turned and tossed up the entire contents of her stomach over the boats edge. The seafood gumbo from Rousseau's she loved nearly as much as Klaus shot from her mouth and floated one way while the wind and Hades' cruiser sailed her in another.

As gravity took her down exhaustion fucked her over. She rested her cheek on the boat's wooden ledge. Drops of putrid salt water splashed her face. Yet, her fucks to give was at a negative zero low. Not only was she dead, but more than likely so was Klaus. She'd failed him...she'd failed them. Not even eternity would be long enough to make that shit okay.

Bonnie's vision blurred. Her chest throbbed. She clawed at the pounding ache between her breasts. Goddess, it's a wonder her chest didn't have a gaping hole in it after everything her heart had lost. Shaking her latest failure from her thoughts, she turned to slouch back to the boat's floor. She then lifted her gaze to assess her surroundings. Various shades of irises gawked back at her. She froze. Oh damn! Just her luck the water was sacred. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but snapped it closed. Wait...why the hell did everyone look like extras from the Last Kingdom?

Slowly, her gaze dropped from the filthy hairy men towering over her to what she wore. The burlap sack dress she donned stopped her ever ticking clock. And based on the breeze cooling her cakes, her La Perla's had opted to skip the journey to the other side. Her back teeth clenched. In what kind of after life had she been dropped? Was this some kind of Viking hell? Had she somehow been granted eternity with Klaus in his hereafter?

The shifting of bodies snaked her attention from Kanye's spring wear to the now parting beefy men. A sight which had her questioning her sanity emerged. Bjorn Lothbrok or at any rate the actor who portrayed him in Vikings. Was he dead and stuck on the Otherside also? Wait, was Alexander Ludwig even supernatural?

"You're not one of the slaves who was captured during the raid. One of your hue, I would've remembered." The head Viking in charge edge that resonated in Bjorn's or Alexander's voice snatched her from her contemplations. "How've you come to be upon this ship?" When she opened her mouth to speak the cold sharpened point of a sword pierced the hollow of her throat. "Speak to me of canards or sagas and I shall open your gullet."

She hesitated for a moment. What could she say? The truth would definitely get her neck split wide. "I-I'm not sure. Before...when I closed my eyes, I was somewhere else and now that I've opened them, I'm..." she glanced from the horror frozen faces of the crewmen to the beyond frightened slaves. The poor shackled souls huddled away from her in the ship crevices and corners on either side of her. She swallowed and allowed her gaze to return to Bjorn. "I'm here."

"Oh my god," she heard one of the slaves mutter in a tone that, to her surprise, sounded annoyed?

His scoff sliced the disbelief inspired silence in half. He withdrew the biting tip of his sword from her throat and sheathed it in the scabbard at his side. "Bind her hands to her feet and toss her over."

The ship erupted in a flurry of movement. Two overfed red-haired and even redder faced Viking men moved to grab her. She nearly projectile vomited her heart from her mouth.

"I know what I'm saying sounds apeshit, but I swear on everything I love, Alexander," she said slowly uttering the name and searching his face for a flare of recognition. When nothing sparked in his expression she stammered on, "I-I'm telling the truth. Please, you have to believe me, Bjorn!" A flicker of curiosity narrowed his glare. Bingo! "You can't let them kill me! Please, I don't wanna die again!"

"Halt!" He bellowed, raising a hand to stop the men from advancing, "How've you come to know of my name?"

Shit! She pressed her lips together as her mind flipped through a too short list of plausible explanations that wouldn't get her burned at a stake for witchcraft. "I-I've dreamt of you a-and of this moment." There, that didn't sound too bad. One thing she'd learned from Klaus, watching Vikings, and Google, is ancient Northman actually revered oracles and seers.

"You've dreamt of me?" He knelt before her, arresting her stare with a penetratingly incandescent blue gaze. At a deliberate methodical pace, his eyes crept over her face. Her lungs threatened to collapse under the thorough scrutiny. "Of this moment?" Unable to look anywhere other than in the irises that burned brighter than the now blazing sun, her head bobbed. A smile enticed the corners of his mouth. "Then why fear what you know will follow? Have you not prepared well to meet your fate?"

"Not if my fate resides at the bottom of the ocean," she said with a firm shake of the head, "That's an introduction I'd like to cur—avoid indefinitely."

His head tilted just so as he continued to regard her. "Name yourself."

"Bonnie Bennett," she answered.

A golden brow lifted. "Bonnie Bennett of where?"

"New-M-Mystic Falls...Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

"I have never heard of a land with such a name," he huddled a bit closer to her, "in which direction does your homeland lie?"

Before she could answer, thick gun metal gray clouds rolled across the azure sky and swallowed the glaring sun. A sonic boom exploded somewhere in the distance, while blue streaks of lightening zigzagged its way through the stodgy swirls of gloom. And if the situation wasn't already atom splitting serious, fat drops of rain and hail the size of golf balls began to pelt them.

"This storm is unnatural!" A seaman yelled.

"What in the name of Odin will become of us? None of us shall discover the gates of Valhalla at the bottom of the sea!" A ruddy face old man with a scraggly beard roared at anyone who appeared to be listening.

Another much younger seaman, maybe a little older than herself, turned an anxious stare on Bjorn. "Do you believe the All Father has forsaken us, Ironside?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a blonde slave girl who pointed a finger in her direction, "It's her! Her very presence displeases the gods. You should heave her over and pray the sacrifice appeases them."

"You sound dumb as hell! It's no wonder you're in chains," Bonnie snapped, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Stupidity had nothing to do with forced captivity. Yet, that bitch had some damn nerve.

"No one will be heaving anyone over," Bjorn said, while standing from his crouch, "Raise the sails and provide the slaves with pails so they may began dumping water from the ship's floor."

A surge of magic thickened the air. The foreign sorcery incited something within her. Something unfamiliar. A bucket was pushed in her face. She took the wooden pail without looking away from the sea. The very stench of alien witchery agitated her own strange mystical energy. The fiery heat of her somehow altered super charged power practically scorched the inner lining of her veins as it raced through her vessels. Who would dare interrupt the supernatural and natural balance on this scale without justification? It was like using a heat seeking missile to take out a mosquito. Un-fucking-called for!

Instead of allowing the now aggressive powers within her the retribution it sought, she settled just to keep the occupants on the ship safe. So, while she dumped water from the boat's floor, she chanted under her breath. Soon, a protective shield formed around them in an elusive form of the previous sunny day. The Vikings and slaves alike erupted in praises to Odin.

"Yep," Bonnie forced a smile. "Praise Odin!"

"Come, Mystical One," Bjorn stood over her, his shadow casting her much needed shade.

Distrust and her impromptu guest starring role on a show which highlighted the fact that Vikings had no problems raping captives, raised her guards. Though realms out of her element, she was far from ignorant.

Her gaze moved over him in an attempt to size him up. "Where?"

"To the prow," He gestured towards the front of the ship before snatching the pail from her hands, and then tossing it aside. "I wish to learn more about you and this numinous land named Mystic Falls." When she took too long to follow he locked his hands behind his back and considered her. "If I wanted to lie with you then all I need do is have you. Do you believe anyone here would be minded to protect you?"

She lifted her chin as she glanced about the ship to see not one person watching them for concern purposes. Every eye she caught on them looked to be pre-historic Shade Room and TMZ reporters. If they had tea kettles back then they'd no doubt be ready to spill the damn things. No, Bjorn spoke the truth. No one on that confoundingly long boat would lift a calloused palm to help her.

"Alright." Exhaling, she stood and leveled him with a glare even a PMS'ing demon would be incapable of exacting. "But fair warning, no one on this ship can protect me better than me. And make no mistake, I'm not above defending my own honor."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "That is a certainty about you of which I'll never be mistaken, Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

#bonniebennett #vampirediaries #the originals #crossover #alternate universe #fanfiction #ivar the boneless #bjorn ironside #hvitserk #sigurd #ubbe lothbrok #vikings #time travel

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lycanthrop-ee · 4 years

Text

Hello! Here is this!

I will definitely be making tweaks and adding songs! This is not final, I'm an indecisive mess sjjdjd

Track list and related plot points:

We're Gonna Be Friends- oh, this one is really fun because of all the parallels! It's applicable to Patton and Virgil, of course, but also Logan and Virgil later on and Remus and Roman as well.

Comfort Crowd- this is a classic Patton song! I feel like Virgil and Patton hung out a lot because being together just made them feel better about everything, and this song definitely reflects that from Patton's pov.

Hug All Ur Friends- this one reminds me of V and Pat's friendship from V's point of view!

Two Birds- okay this is where it starts to hurt- this can be applied to Virgil continuing life while Patton's stops moving forward. This song and the next is where the playlist moves from era 1 to era 2. Some lines of this track also apply to Logan leaving his family behind.

Empty Bed- this one is Patton's perspective of leaving Virgil behind, although there won't be any ghosts or afterlife-y themes in this AU.

Downhill- this one is back with Virgil trying to deal with Patton's death. The lines "I went downhill at such steep incline/That my rearview mirror showed me only the sky" are especially poigniant, as they reflect Patton's death via car accident.

Dread in my Heart- the next few songs go between Logan and Virgil- this one is about the former, struggling to be optimistic about his new living situation and plans while haunted by guilt about leaving his younger brothers.

Body- more Virgil grieving oops

a conversation about identity- Logan feeling anxious and aimless, even while overworking himself in online school as he tries to forget about his past.

Francis Forever- more grieving time!

Ghosting- this is where the plot kicks back in. Virgil starts hanging around the house while Logan's living there, and L literally and figuratively lets him in. Now he's trying to get used to the house without Patton- and Logan in his place.

I Can't Handle Change- this one explores both of them in different verses! I think the first two really relate to Virgil, especially with the house, the rest of the verses are Logan but can be applied to both.

Bugbear- this one I could go into pretty line-for-line, but overall it represents Logan's mental state about school with Virgil added to the equation- specifically the lines "I feel so brain dead next to you/It's not like you intended to/Hurt me or make me feel that way" in relation to his Totally Not Falling In Love Disease and not quite understanding it.

Line Without a Hook- this is a bit of a fast-forward, but it's the first mutual love song of the playlist! It fits their relationship really well!

16/04/16 (Jack's Song)- this song signifies Virgil finally reaching a bit of acceptance over Patton's death and being able to remember him without it hurting. This is the Our Boy Is Healing song! Sure hope nothing goes to shit or anything after this!

Be Nice To Me- this one takes place a little while after Logan brings the twins home. The change is weighing on Virgil, and they're struck again by how different Logan is from Patton. Logan's spending a lot of time and energy with his little brothers, and the extra stress is making him irritable and tired, which in turn forces Virgil to face a lot of his internalized anger, current and past.

Good For You- the quintessential Everything Goes To Shit song! The relationship between him and his mother is very similar to Evan's, so it's mostly the mother's verses that apply, but the overwhelming energy of the song is definitely something Virgil starts to feel.

Out Like a Light- okay I'm gonna be honest with you right now. This one's mostly about the Vibes. There's a bit of a gap here, but mostly what happens here is Virgil realizes that none of it is Logan's fault- in fact, Lo's done so much for him the whole time they've known each other, and V would be lost without him. We're back to the They're In Love Your Honor songs jdjdjd

A Wistful Waltz- They're In Love Your Honor

Talk to Me- it's a pretty safe bet that I'm going to leave this as the last song, even if I add some more in between. As you may have noticed, this au is very Analogical centric, and this song kind of represents the safety they find in each other throughout their struggles. It's cheesy and I love it, okay? Cope jsjdjsnd

Taglist that I forgot before jdjdjd:

@ab-artist

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 7 years

Note

I'm not a huge horror movie fan, but I would love to see a Skimmons Zombieland AU! Something funny/scary, with maybe one of the avengers doing the bill murray cameo thing?

Happy Halloween! I mean…happy first of October.

Thanks for the movie suggestion! I figured it would be a perfect way to kick off my 31 Days of Horror Movie Ficlets (I need a better title I guess?)

Check it out below the cut or all ficlets will also be posted on AO3! {x}

Movie: Zombieland

Soundtrack: “Salute Your Solution” by The Raconteurs

“So, Daisy Johnson,” Jemma intones in a serious voice, asclose to the newscasters that she remembers from when the news was actuallyrunning, “you finally made it to California. What’s the first thing you’regoing to do?”

“Well…” Daisy draws the word out, as though contemplating heroptions, “probably sleep for twenty-four hours straight.”

Just to punctuate her point, she takes a running leap andjumps onto the king-sized bed in middle of the room and, of course, it feelslike heaven. She even bounces just a little, sighing contentedly as she sinksdown onto the mattress. And is that…ugh yes…a down comforter. “Jemma, you have to come feel this,” Daisy sighs,patting the space on the bed beside her. “I don’t know if I’ve ever feltanything so amazing.”

Jemma smirks but she climbs into bed beside Daisy. “I’m sureyou’ll say the same thing when you finally take a shower.”

Daisy’s eyes grow wide. “A shower,” she breathes. “Do youthink the water still works? Do you think it’s still hot?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jemma says. “Look at this place. Imean compared to the other places we’ve seen, it looks practically perfect.”

Daisy had thought the same thing when they’d finally settledon this house. Or, well, house might not be the right word to describe it.Mansion is far more fitting, given the three stories and the basement levelthat Coulson and Ace are currently exploring. She feels a little nervous being separatedfrom Ace, seeing as they haven’t been apart since this whole apocalypse andzombie drama started but she trusts Coulson enough to hope that Ace is safewith him in this large, perfect, unexplored house.

“I mean…it’s a little weird, right?” Daisy says, frowningslightly as she studies Jemma. “Maybe it’s just not as bad over here.”

Jemma doesn’t say anything but Daisy can see the skepticismin her face. They’ve driven halfway across the country and they’ve seen enoughdeath and destruction to know that it’s bad everywhere. Honestly, Daisy hadn’teven realized that there were other people still in the world until she’d runinto Coulson and then, days later, Jemma. She’d never intended to join up witha group; there were too many unknown factors when you added other people intothe equation and her priority was Ace and trying to get him to California andhis aunt’s house. She’d promised Mike that she would look after him. Butsomething about Coulson and Jemma…it had seemed easier to let her guard downaround them. With Coulson, Daisy had just desperately wanted someone else totake charge for a little while, to look after them and do the protecting. Andwith Jemma…well.

With Jemma, her thoughts are definitely not zombie apocalypserelated.

“Maybe we should investigate the shower situation,” Daisysays, though she makes no move to leave the bed.

Jemma nods. “Maybe we should.” She doesn’t move either.

Daisy smiles. “Maybe in a minute,” she relents. “I’m just sofreaking comfortable.”

“It has been a long time since we slept in a bed, hasn’t it?”Jemma says with a sigh of longing. “Not that I haven’t been enjoying thebackseat of the car.”

“I mean forget sleeping in a bed,” Daisy says, “how long hasit been since you had a real, nice shower? Or had clean clothes? Or actual hotfood?”

Jemma rubs her stomach, groaning. “Don’t talk about food.”But there’s still so much of the house they haven’t explored so thepossibilities…her stomach rumbles at the idea.

“Maybe Coulson can finally find his Twinkies.” Daisy grins.

“I’m sure he’s searching for them right now,” Jemma says.

“He can have the Twinkies,” Daisy says, “but I call dibs onthis bed.”

Jemma gives her a playful shove. “Excuse you. We found thisroom together.”

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. “Looks like there’s room for two,”she says.

Okay so she’s feeling bold here in this bedroom, in an actualhouse, where she doesn’t feel like she has to be afraid for her life at thisexact moment.

Jemma smiles at her. “So it would seem,” she says. After apause, she adds, “I’m glad that our paths crossed. You know…safety in numbersand all that.”

Daisy nods. “Oh, of course.” But she’s smiling and so isJemma and maybe it’s not so terrible after all, to be here after the world hasended on a really comfortable bed in a giant house with Jemma here beside her. “Youknow, I’m-”

The sound of floorboards creaking immediately causes Daisy tofall silent. She and Jemma both sit up in unison, looking toward the openbedroom door. Her heart is already hammering in her chest and she immediatelymisses the way she had felt just seconds before: safe and content and a littlelike she was falling in love with the woman lying beside her.

Now none of that stuff really matters, seeing as there’s apossibility they’re about to die a horrible zombie related death.

It could be nothing, of course. Could just be Coulson or Ace.But Ace is never quiet, at least, not quiet enough to sneak down the hallway.

Daisy slips off the bed and Jemma follows suit, both of themreaching for their weapons of choice: Jemma, the gun she always keeps withinreach; Daisy, the baseball bat she’d left leaning against the wall.

They step into the hallway just as the zombie rounds thecorner and they both scream in surprise, though the noise is quickly drownedout by the firing of Jemma’s gun. The bullet catches the zombie in the chestand it stumbles backward, snarling.

“Double tap!” Daisy says, hefting her bat in case Jemma needsbackup. “Don’t forget.”

Jemma rolls her eyes at her before leveling her gun at thezombie and pulling the trigger. The bullet lands neatly between the eyes andthe zombie drops to the ground.

“Nice shooting.” They whirl around toward the unfamiliarvoice. “I thought I’d cleared-”

Further words are silenced by another crack of the gun andthe thud of another body hitting the floor. The groan that escapes thisparticular zombie sounds more human than zombie-like and Daisy is pretty sureshe’s never heard a zombie talk before and…

“Oh my god…” Daisy furrows her brow as she steps closer tothe figure on the ground. “Is that Tony Stark?”

Jemma’s eyes go wide and she looks down at the gun in herhands, a guilty look crossing her face. “Did I just kill Tony Stark?”

Carefully, Daisy nudges the body with the edge of herbaseball bat. Nothing. “I…I think you might have.”

“Oh my god.” Jemma presses a hand to her mouth, standingbeside Daisy and studying the body. “Where did he come from? Why is he dressed…likea zombie? That’s zombie makeup, right?”

Daisy’s eyes grow wide. “This must be Tony Stark’s house!”She grins. “We must be in Tony Stark’s house! Holy shit! No wonder everythingis so nice.”

“I think you’re missing the point here.” Jemma points back toTony Stark, former billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist. “I shot TonyStark.”

Daisy pats Jemma on the shoulder. “He could have been azombie,” she points out. “You were just trying to save our lives. From TonyStark! Holy shit!” She grabs Jemma’s hand, tugging her back in the direction ofthe staircase. “Let’s tell Coulson. He’s going to get a kick out of this.”

Jemma rolls her eyes but allows Daisy to drag her down thestairs. She feels bad for the whole Tony Stark snafu but she definitely doesn’tregret any of the things that have brought her to this moment, with her hand inDaisy’s, facing down the end of the world with her, and a former schoolteacher, and an eight-year-old boy.

Honestly, Jemma figures, there are worst ways to spend theend of the world.

#skimmons #bioquake #31 days of Halloween #horror movie AU ficlets #Zombieland

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corvid-knight · 6 years

Text

Sealskin

Jake tries to return a coat he happened to find, with some...interesting results. As in, he's now engaged to a selkie and a fae prince. He's not sure how to handle this.

(Backstory on how Jake met Dirk and Cronus in the Fantasystuck AU.)

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524405)

You just wanted to return a lost item of clothing, and of course it isn't that simple.

First off, you've no idea who the fur coat belongs to. It's too large for you, it's heavy and the fur is snowy and soft and smells like clean salt water and the wind off the ocean, but that doesn't help with identification. It looks like it cost a pretty penny, though, and you intend to see it returned to its proper owner.

In the two days that you try to think of exactly how you'll do that, you find yourself sleeping with it by your bed, then giving up and using it as a blanket. The owner might not be happy with you for that, but it's extremely warm, and you dream of flying when you sleep wrapped in it.

(...or perhaps the dreams are of swimming, darting through the deep water in pursuit of shimmering shining things. You're not sure.)

Your cousin's the one who suggests the solution to your dilemma. He might be not-quite-ten, but he's a bright boy, in regards to most things. He tells you that mages and sorcerers can find anything, Jake, anything, and gives you a wide bucktoothed grin. For that bit of wisdom you give him the cactus you've just finished replanting in the sky-blue flowerpot you know he's liked since you made it, and start thinking about what kind of magic-talented people are available to you.

Since you have a distinct lack of funds, the choice isn't a difficult one. The lady of shadows who lives by the edge of town and takes in every stray cat that sits outside her house and laments to her agrees to trade half your stock of catmint for a tracing spell. She hands you a stone and tells you to turn until it grows warm in your hand, then go the way you're facing. The enchantment only lasts a few days, she says, and you thank her and reassure her that it won't take you days.

Actually, it takes perhaps an hour and a half before you track down the correct house and stand outside the door. You almost forget to slip the coat off and drape it over one arm as if you weren't wearing it at all, before you knock.

The man that answers is probably not human. You have little experience with fae or other magical creatures, but his eyes are wide and violet, absolutely stunning against skin the color of good dark honey. Pure humans don't have eyes that color. His white shirt might be plain but it's definitely not poorly made or cheap, and his teeth are the sharp points of a meat-eater as he smiles at you and runs one hand through wet black hair.

"Uh..." Gods, he's lovely. What were you here for again? "Sorry, hello, I believe I've found something that belongs to you!" And you hold out the coat, offering it up with both hands.

He doesn't take it immediately, which is...strange. Stranger still is the look that passes across his face—would that be fear? It's replaced with confusion, and then, as he looks up to meet your eyes, what looks like delight. "Dirk?" he calls, looking back over his shoulder. (His voice is as attractive as the rest of him, rougher than the honey of his skin but still somehow smooth, deeper than yours even though this man is slim and barely a head taller than you.) "Dirk, chief, you need to get your ass out and see who's brought me something back."

"I just wanted to bring your coat back," you protest as the lovely man wraps an arm around your shoulders and guides you through the door. (He still hasn't taken said coat out of your arms, and you can't help but hug it nervously to your chest.) "There really doesn't need to be a fuss—"

"Cronus?" A second man steps through the door into the next room, and you abruptly lose all ability to do anything, including breath. If the man who answered the door—Cronus—is lovely, this one is...oh, gods, you would gladly die, looking at him. He's shirtless, pale-skinned, all angles and planes that fall together into a body that makes you long to see what his loose trousers hide. His hair is golden waves pulled back into a loose ponytail, wisps escaping to frame his angular face and accent his amber eyes.

He's smiling at you. His mouth quirks up at one corner, and you can't think.

"Babe, shit, you're—" Cronus begins, in a tone that suggests alarm even though there's obviously no reason to worry with this beautiful golden being in the vicinity.

The aforementioned beautiful being looks down at himself, sighs, very calmly says, "Fuck. In my defense, I wasn't expecting a human," and...does something. You aren't sure what. It somehow lessens the aura of beauty around him, though, and you remember what lungs are again. "Sorry."

"I'm, um." Words are a bit harder. "Hello."

"He's got my coat," Cronus points out, and steps back quickly as you try to offer it to him again. "Hold up, kiddo, I think you'd better hold onto that for a minute."

The other one—Dirk? You think Cronus called him Dirk, although your memory's abruptly a bit hazy on the events of the last few minutes'—tilts his head, examining you with eyes that might be made of molten gold. "He does have your coat."

"Should I take it?"

"I mean..." Dirk shrugs, mouth twisting up into an amused smile. "He is cute. But then again, I don't think he knows exactly what he's doing."

"That's quite true," you feel the need to add. "I'm. Erm. Confused."

The two of them trade glances that seem to exchange a wealth of information that you're not privy to, and then Cronus steps back to stand next to Dirk, facing you.

"I'm—" Dirk begins, then shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and starts again. "My name is Dirk Strider, prince of the Summer Fae, currently in chosen exile. This—"

"My name is Cronus Ampora." The dark-haired man looks both determined and afraid, and you're not sure why. "Consort—"

"Husband," Dirk corrects gently.

"...yeah. Husband of the prince of the Summer Fae. Child of the sea, who the sea's disowned for losing half my nature." He huffs, gesturing at the coat in your arms with the hand that's not clutching Dirk's. "Which you're kinda holding."

"Uh..." You're still lost, not that you intend to say that. Dirk's fae, alright, you don't—

Wait. Wait.

He just told you his name. A prince of the fae freely told you his name, without coercion or trickery.

"...oh, dear." You hear the woefully inadequate words slip out of your mouth.

Dirk's eyes widen, and even though he's a good five feet away from you it's only a heartbeat before he's standing at your side, taking hold of your arm and offering support that you may actually need. "Are you all right?" he asks, and you don't know what to make of the genuine-seeming concern in his voice.

"I don't want your name!" It comes out as an embarrassing almost-wail, and you try to cover your face with your hands. This leads to your remembering that you're still holding the fur coat. Without thinking you raise it enough to bury your face in it, taking a calming breath of its salty scent. This muffles your voice a bit when you continue. "I'm no one, why in the bloody fucking hell would you give me that?"

"...mostly because you just came in and proposed to my husband." Dirk's voice is calm and full of amusement, but those words still snap your head up out of the soft fur so fast it actually makes you dizzy.

I've offended one of the fair folk, you think. Gods, I'm dead.

He's smiling. It's reassuring. Cronus is beside him, and he just looks excited.

Again, you hold out the coat. "Please just take this and let me go home." Your voice is shaking and you can't do anything about that. "My apologies, I'm so very sorry, I swear I'll make amends in any way you want me to..." Please don't turn me into an animal. Or kill me. I don't want to die!

Dirk and Cronus exchange another look. Then the former pulls you into the other room, giving you a gentle push towards a chair and taking a seat himself.

"So," he says, leaning towards you a little and hurriedly reversing the movement as you can't help but flinch. "Cronus could take his coat back from you, but then you'd need to either stay here, or he'd have to go home with you."

"Why?" You don't understand anything.

"I'm a selkie," Cronus offers. "That's—"

"...I know what it is, thank you." That may have been rude. You sigh and adjust the heavy coat in your lap—that is sealskin, isn't it? Gods, you can't believe you didn't realize that. And if a mortal returns a selkie's coat, it is considered as a binding proposal of marriage. Oh, dear. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...um. Intrude?"

"You haven't." They both say it at precisely the same moment. It's Cronus who continues. "Sweetheart, if I'm going to be bound to another lover, you seem like a pretty damn good option. Attractive, obviously a good person, hot, pretty, lovely—"

"Cro, stop. You're going to make the poor human implode." Dirk stifles a laugh.

"Thank you." How on earth do you stop blushing? "Dirk..."

"Yes?"

"You're not...upset about this?"

He just shrugs, glancing over at Cronus before focusing on you. "I mean, if you try to take him from me against his will, I'm more than willing to call all the forces I have at my disposal down on your head, but if you just want to date him, marry him, love him?" Another shrug, and a smile that almost sets you at ease again. "You gain two partners, rather than one. Assuming you'd like me as well as him."

"Yes." Oh, gods, you didn't mean to say that out loud, but you might as well commit. "Um. If you're sure you're all right with that state of affairs?" Okay, so that does not qualify as committing, but you're still rattled.

"Absolutely all right." Dirk nods.

Cronus gives you a sharp-toothed grin and shifts to the edge of his chair, leaning forward to take your hand and raise it to his lips. (You don't flinch this time.) His skin is cool when he presses a kiss against the back of your hand. "Keep the coat," he says softly. "Least until you work out what the hell you're getting into. We don't want to trap you in something, do we?"

"Uh..." You're not sure what the right answer is, and it's difficult to think anyway when he's holding your hand oh-so-gently. But you do think of something that it's very important you say. "...my name is Jake. Jake English."

"Jake," Cronus repeats, and you can see Dirk mouthing your name behind him. "English. Good name."

You don't know how to answer that, either, but you smile at him.

You leave several hours later with the coat around your shoulders and an order for half a dozen potted rosemary seedlings in your pockets. The next time you stay longer, and eventually there is a night when you don't leave at all, but sleep in the spare room. After that, there's a morning when you wake up with the fae sprawled out across half the bed and the selkie curled up as close as he can possibly get to your side, and—months further along—mornings when you wake up in a tangle of long limbs and discarded clothes wound up in the blankets. By that time the coat stays hung by the door, owned by all of you equally, and you've moved everything you own that isn't plants to their house, and converted your smaller house to a shop where you sell plants that may or may not carry the ambient magic of your partners.

All you meant to do was return a coat.

You're not sure you really ever manage to do that, but this is a much better outcome.

#cronus/dirk/Jake #polyamory #fantasystuck #cronus #dirk #jake

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