#remember that time he said ‘i’m not interested in the occult’ right in front of his demon butler with whom he holds a demon contract

[hisbutler-problematic]

what i really love about black butler is they said what if there was one little boy and for some unknown reason absolutely unhinged occult stuff ALWAYS happened around him

they try to play it off by being like “oh he’s a phantomhive, they deal w all kinds of stuff” but then they make it very clear that this little boy is the only one who has to deal with shit like demons and shinigami and werewolves and zombies, etc

like no one is super surprised when he’s like “oh just another day dismantling the zombie factory” but there’s also a distinct “wtf do you mean zombie factory” air to it

queen: there’s witches and werewolves in germany that you have to deal with ciel: why the fuck do i have to go to germany (his only problem w that sentence)

and then the little boy has the audacity to be like “tbh don’t really believe this witch and werewolf thing :/“ to his DEMON butler

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

----------------------------------------

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

A Cursed Reality-JJK x M!Reader (Ch.2)

Question: Do you guys prefer longer chapters or shorter chapters? I’ve been making an effort to write longer chapters but if you hate reading them I’ll write them less.

Warnings: fluff, comparison of Inumaki’s speech to a disability/handicap, cursing. Dislike of Maki (Not me. wrong bitch. I love her)

Previous || Next

Chapter Two:

[Name] actively dislikes hanging out with the second years. Not that they’re bad people in any way, it’s just he’s anxious and awkward, and even after spending a year familiarizing himself with the school and the people in it, there’s like a small group of people he would invite to his birthday party.

That and he just doesn’t care for Maki Zen’in. And it is most definitely mutual. To him, she’s just pretty. She also won’t die in a battle between her and a curse below first grade. But that’s about the end of her appeal. Of course, Panda is fun to tease but he typically plays the peacemaker between the second years. [Name] would rather not care about people in peace.

There’s no dramatic reason to it all, it’s just [Name] didn’t really come to Jujutsu Tech by choice so he hadn’t intended on making friends. He obviously failed considering he befriended Inumaki within his first day and they have some homoromantic vibes going on in their friendship.

That’s not to say you can’t platonic cuddle with your best friend but when you longingly gaze into each other’s eyes and he’s the only friend you’ve made besides an annoyingly hyper 30-year-old because no one else understands you like he does… And it kind of goes both ways considering you’re the only person he trusts himself enough to have a full-on conversation with.

Yeah, it’s not looking very good for the argument that they’re not gay. They’re not though. At least not now.  

“[Name]”

“Yeah toge?”

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind” Inumaki responded. And although he had plenty of experience saying words, having a conversation without using safe words felt a little weird. It was an aspect of who he was now and [Name] being immune to the cursed speech wouldn’t erase the problems he had with talking and it didn’t make [Name] his savior or soulmate.

Luckily [Name] was both lonely and not a complete asshole because he had no problems adapting to the switch between Toge’s ‘onigiri glossary’. Learning it was actually a really fun experience because it turns out Inumaki did not have the exact translation of all his safe words. He would just say an ingredient and [Name] had to fill in the blanks. There was a lot of trial and error and a lot of [Name] smiling down at Inumaki’s concentrated face.

“I was just thinking.” [Name] broke the contemplative silence.

“Hmm”

“You know” [Name] started again “... They say it was believed people kept their souls in their throats” and as Inumaki gave a confused denial (“fish flakes”) [Name] was internally panicking on whether or not he should keep going with this specific train of thought or make a joke to deflect from the very real and emotional but corny statement he was about to utter.

“Ah fuck it. I want to exercise the curses in the world or at least enough to keep you safe so you don’t keep damaging your soul when you use your cursed technique”

“Sujiko”

[Name] looked at Inumaki. And as if breaking off pieces of his soul didn’t matter to him, Inumaki spoke, a short sentence that stunned [Name] into silence

“I love you”

If Gojo hadn’t come in, they might’ve kissed.

“[Name]-kun!!!”

Aaaand [Name]’s sentimental mood was gone. Don’t get him wrong, Gojo definitely would get an invite to [Name]’s birthday party, but the man was like 30 running around being overly cheerful and with that teasing nature he was definitely repressing some trauma. He also definitely had some of the worst timing

“What is it Gojo?”

“No sensei at the end? So mean!

“Fushiguro was sent out to find a cursed object but he’s been out all day with no calls back home or anything. Of course I plan on going to check on my beloved student, but I am busy for the next hour or so. Can you please check on him? For your favorite sensei?”

“My favorite sensei is actually Nanami and he’s not even a sensei but yeah I’ll check on the emo kid”

‘You’re pretty emo yourself dude’ Gojo thought to himself

“Ah Thank you [Name]-kun. You’re a lifesaver” Gojo called out behind him as he left to do whatever it is crazy white haired ‘old’ men do.

‘He’s/I’m totally not doing this for free’ both [Name] and Inumaki thought at the same time.

[Name] got up suddenly and started getting ready to leave paying no attention to Inumaki who watched him get ready with a casual interest. Before [Name] headed out, he turned to look at Inumaki with a serious and concentrated expression.

“Toge.”

“I love you”

“What the hell happened here?”

“....”

“Fushiguro-kun, if you please”

“Well I only know half of the story so it’s best if we hear it from Itadori”

All eyes whipped to the shirtless Yuji who had just gotten control of his body back from Sukuna, the apparent king of curses.

“I’d say it started when I went to school this morning but I think it started a little earlier for Fushiguro. Right Fushiguro?” Yuji asked

‘I swear I’m going to explode if someone doesn’t tell me the how we got this far I mean Fushiguro is bleeding from his head, this pink haired enthusiastic kid is possessed and I can’t tell if he’s too sweet to care or if he lost a few of his brain cells when he and the little emo first year wrecked this building’ [Name] thought to himself.

Clearing his throat he began “Well okay Fushiguro has a lot of really bad injuries so is it okay with you if he just quickly shares his part and then you take over?”

“Ohh Yeah that makes sense” Itadori awed and both he and [Name] turned their attention to poor Megumi who was bleeding from his forehead.

“Yesterday I was sent to retrieve a special grade cursed object and when I got there it was gone. Gojo sensei told me I couldn’t go home until it was recovered. The next day I stalked around the school and investigated when I saw Yuji for the first time.”

“Oh I remember that. It’s my turn to take over now. Uhh. I was in the occult club with my senpais Sasaki and Iguchi and we were asking the spirits about which animal the Student Council President was weaker than ( a fish) and then he burst in the room because he didn’t approve of our club-”

“Fast forward please” [Name] interrupted

“Fushiguro found me after my grandpa died and told me Iguchi and Sasaki were in danger because of the finger so I led him to the school where they said they were going to peel off the seal”

“And that’s why we’re here” [Name] surmised

“So what’s the situation”

“Gojo-sensei”/ “Old Man what are you doing here?” Megumi and [Name] called out

“I wasn’t gonna come but the higher ups got involved. I knew you’d all be fine though, I sent [Name] here to deal with it.”

“That’s true” Fushiguo mumbled

“I’m glad you all have faith in me” [Name] started “But that means I came here for absolutely nothing”

“... So did you find it?” Gojo asked

“Um sorry.... I ate it”

Gojo who didn’t hear the whole introduction and [Name] who didn’t quite get to the eating of the finger part in the story turned to Yuji in shock

“For real”

“For real”

“Haha you’re not kidding. They’re combined. How does your body feel?” Gojo asked Yuji

“Okay”

“Can you switch to Sukuna?”

“Sukuna?” Yuji asked

“The curse object you ate”

“Oh yeah. Probably”

“Ten seconds” gojo said “Take control again after ten seconds”

“I dunno about this”

“Don’t worry. I’m the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer”

Megumi looked to [Name] after hearing a curious “hmm” but [Name]’s face showed no anger or displeasure.

“Megumi hold onto this will ya” Gojo’s voice bled through Megumi’s thoughts of who would win between [Name] and Gojo. Give it a year or two and it might actually be [Name].

“What’s this?” Megumi asked

‘It better be a fucking weapon’ [Name] thought ‘Because if he sent me out because his important business was shopping he’s gonna regret it’

“Kikufuku Mochi” Gojo replied casually before feeling bloodlust leaking from [Name]. He’ll just have to make it up to the second year somehow

“Behind you” Fushiguro called out and [Name] sucked his teeth hoping Gojo would get hit at least once. He did not get his wish once

“I’ve got a student watching so..I hope you don’t mind if I show off a little bit” . And after that Gojo commenced kicking Sukuna’s ass. Sukuna tried to monologue a little as he sent out a powerful attack, but he missed Gojo on account of Gojo’s infinity dispelling the attack. By the time Sukuna realized Gojo was unharmed it was time for Yuji to switch back.

“Oh was everything okay?” Yuji asked as he came to his senses.

“Oh what a surprise” Gojo responded “You really can control it”

“Yeah, but he’s kind of annoying”

“It’s a miracle that’s the only side effect” Gojo said right before knocking Yuji out with one finger

“If he wakes up and isn't possessed, he might have potential as a vessel. Okay question for you two. What do I do with him?”

“Even if he is a potential vessel… He must be executed under jujutsu regulations…

“But I don’t want to let him die”

“Is that a personal opinion? Gojo asked

“Yes, a personal opinion. Please do something about it.

Gojo smiled and the two of them turned their attention towards [Name] who had been silent throughout the whole experience.

‘Besides being a little too excitable, he’s not bad. Like a puppy. I’d keep him as a pet.’ [Name] thought

“Don’t kill him” he said

“A precious student's request. And one from my favorite second year? Of course. Leave it to me!” Gojo said before lifting Yuji up.

[Name] still a little upset he was called away for nothing, raised his hand in front of his mouth so gojo couldn’t see what he was doing and whispered

“Fall over”

“Aak! [Name]-kunnn”

Fushiguro was shocked to see Gojo faceplant on the ground with Yuji on his shoulder. If the combination of Fushiguro’s wide eyed expression and the sight of Gojo in pain made [Name] giggle a little, he’d never admit it.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Beauty and the Genius Chapter 1

TITLE: Beauty and the Genius Chapter 1 PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 1/? SUMMARY: When David Rossi joins the team, so does his daughter Gwendolyn. But what happens when she and the resident genius start developing feelings for each other? How will it affect Rossi and Reid’s team dynamic?

[A/N - Updates to this will be sporadic because I’m only working on this until the inspiration hits me again for my Doctor Who fic. So we’ll see what happens with this.]

“Guys, he’s here!” Spencer said.

The new agent entered the BAU led by Strauss. A small brunette young woman followed after them.

“But who’s the girl?” Morgan asked, as Spencer took off his mask.

Spencer’s eyes met hers and she gave him a small smile. Spencer offered her a shy smile back as his cheeks turned pink.

Strauss, Rossi, and the girl made their way up to Hotch’s office. Strauss knocked on the open door. “Agent Hotchner,” she said, “I’m sure you remember…”

“Dave.” Hotch smiled and approached the older Italian man.

“How are you, Aaron?”

“I’m good. I’m great.”

The two men embraced.

“I would say so. You remember my daughter, Gwen?”

Gwen smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Hotchner.”

“Oh, please. Call me Hotch,” he told her. He turned back to Rossi. “Saw you on TV last week. Can’t believe you want to come back here.”

The two men looked at Strauss.

“Well I’ll let the two of you catch up. If you need anything, I’m in my office.”

“Thanks,” Hotch said and Strauss left. “So how long has it been?”

“Dinner, almost three years. But the last time I was in the BAU, you were sharing a desk with two other agents in that god-awful bunker we were in.”

“I remember.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Well there’s one just like this next door if you’re interested.”

A blonde woman entered the office. “I’m ready to give the briefing.”

“Agent Jareau, this is SSA David Rossi and his daughter Gwen,” Hotch introduced.

The blonde shook Rossi’s hand. “Hi. Everyone calls me JJ. It is such an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Thank you. And what’s your function here?” Rossi asked.

“I’m the communications coordinator and liaison. Pretty much the go-between for the team and the rest of the world,” JJ explained, “So I’ll gather everyone.”

“We’ll be right there. Oh and JJ?”

“Yes sir?”

“Could you introduce Gwen to Penelope? Penelope will be helping her get settled in.”

JJ nodded. JJ shook Rossi’s hand again. “It is so nice to have you here, sir.”

“Great,” Rossi said.

Before Gwen left with JJ, she looked at her father who nodded. Gwen nodded back and followed JJ out.

JJ led her into a dark room. “Penelope…” JJ said.

Penelope stood up and immediately hugged Gwen. “You must be my new ward!”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Penelope, when you’re ready we’ll be in the conference room.”

“Sure thing Jayje!”

JJ left the room and Penelope stepped back to get a good look at Gwen. “Oh! My name’s Penelope Garcia, but you can call me anything you want Sugarplum!”

Penelope was a bubbly blonde with a pink streak in her hair. Her glasses were brightly colored, along with her entire outfit.

“Gwendolyn Rossi, but please call me Gwen,” Gwen told her.

“Rossi? As in Rossi Rossi?”

“Uh…yeah. He’s my dad.”

“You mean he’s your…”

Gwendolyn hushed her. “Please. Please don’t say anything to the rest of the team.”

“Woah. Of course I won’t say anything. It’s not something you should feel ashamed about or anything. It happens all the time.”

“I know…it’s just…it’s hard to explain.”

“Don’t fret mon ami. Now, I have to deliver this file to the team, which means I get to introduce you.” Penelope looped her arm in Gwen’s and they made their way up to the conference room. Penelope opened the door and found a bloody face looking back at her. Penelope immediately threw the file up to block her face. “Oh my god! What is that?”

Instead of being disgusted like Penelope, Gwen walked over to the table and picked up one of the pictures. “Interesting. Looks like a scalpel or something was used. There’s no way this could’ve been done by animals or anything.”

Everyone was looking at her.

“Um, hi,” Gwen said.

“Beauty and brains. Looks like you might have some competition, Pretty Boy,” Morgan quipped.

“Technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, this is SSA David Rossi,” Hotch introduced.

“Is it gone, JJ?” Penelope asked.

JJ hit a button on her remote and it disappeared.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re safe.” Penelope lowered the file. “Ok. Just to…um…Carrolton, Texas has nearly 117,000 residents. A diverse population with a…” She handed the file to Hotch. “It’s all in there. I’m sorry.” She turned to Rossi and shook his hand. “Very happy to meet you, sir. I’ll be in my office.”

Hotch cleared his throat and Gwen looked up from the picture. “Oh, sorry.” She put it down in front of the guy from the bullpen.

“Sugar cookies,” he muttered.

Gwen blushed and stood up.

“I’m so sorry! It’s just I smelled your perfume and…” he rambled.

Gwen giggled and said, “It’s okay. It’s my favorite. My dad bought it for me.”

Penelope grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room. “Sorry. We’ll just…” Penelope shut the door and squealed. “Oh my god! You were totally flirting with Spencer!”

“I was not! I was just being nice.”

In the conference room, Rossi said, “She’s different.”

Hotch playfully shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“Okay, is someone gonna explain to me who the girl is?” Morgan asked.

“Gwendolyn Rossi,” Hotch said.

“Wait. Rossi?” Emily asked, looking at the man.

“My daughter,” Rossi said, his eyes on Spencer.

Oh god, Spencer wanted to die. Not only had he embarrassed himself in front of a pretty girl, but it just HAD to be his new co-worker’s daughter.

“She comes to use with a very different set of knowledge and skills,” Hotch said.

“What kind of knowledge?” Spencer asked.

“What kind of skills?” Morgan asked.

“In addition to being well trained in every firearm the FBI has license to use, she has extensive knowledge of the occult,” Hotch explained.

Morgan’s eyebrows nearly shot off his face. “The occult? Since when does the FBI investigate the occult?”

“We don’t…officially. She’s here in a consultant position.”

“If you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em,” Spencer said.

“And Strauss approved this?” Morgan asked. It sounded like nepotism to him.

To Spencer, she sounded like even more of a dream come true. She probably loved Halloween as much as he did.

Penelope helped Gwen get situated at her desk. It wasn’t quite in the bullpen, like the rest of the profilers, but off to the side. As Gwen was getting settled, a shadow appeared over her. She looked up and saw Spencer. “Oh, hey Spencer.”

“You…you know my name?” he asked.

Gwen laughed. “Penelope explained who everyone was.”

“Oh yeah. Right. Um, I was wondering if…”

“If…?”

Spencer took a deep breath and tried again. “Hotch said you study the occult.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Is Halloween your favorite holiday?”

Gwen nodded. “Yeah. I love Halloween, although I prefer to celebrate it in its ancient form of Samhain.”

Spencer could feel his heart beating hard in his chest.

“Hey, maybe we could get together after this case is over and talk about it. Maybe get a drink.”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, clutching the strap on his bag for dear life. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah. Later.” Spencer turned around, his cheeks burning. He couldn’t wait to get home from this case.

[punprincess321]

Mchanzo Sleeping Beauty

This is LOOOONG so be prepared...

Once upon a time in a land far far away, there was a beautiful and vast kingdom ruled by two kings, King Jack Morrison and King Gabriel Reyes.

The two had united their kingdoms many years ago when Gabriel's son was still an infant, unfortunately both queens had died, Gabriel had only one heir and Jack feared the worst, when the two met it was like love at first sight, the two were married and Gabriel's son became heir to the throne of the entire kingdom. Jack and Gabriel were conquerors, they would take down tyrannical monarchies and put better more trusted leaders in their place, this system made them loved across the land, along with their 17 year old son.

Prince Jesse was wild like most teenagers, he was mischievous and quite a headache for the palace workers but he was still kind and compassionate, he helped out in any way he could around the kingdom and would give his best hunting prizes to families who needed the fur and meat. This kindness mixed with Jesse's roguish looks made him the most desired bachelor in all the land but Jesse never showed any interest in the countless princesses that flocked to his door, Jesse may have been handsome and beloved, but he still felt lonely, women didn't appeal to him but yet no man had caught his eye either.

One day the kings got word of a kingdom who had terrible rulers, they abused their subjects, stole from their allies and it was believed that they were involved in the dark arts of sorcery and occult rituals. Jack and Gabriel readied their armies and left for the Shimada empire.

Many months passed until the kings returned, the kingdom rejoiced at their return and Jesse ran out of the castle to greet his fathers, behind them was a medley of prisoners, all to either be thrown into the dungeon or executed in town square. As Jesse watched the prisoners walk through the crowd, getting pummeled by trash and rotten produce, one prisoner caught his attention, a man with long black hair and a large blue dragon tattoo on his left arm, he appeared to be Jesse's age, around 17 to 18, and was quite strong, the man looked scared and confused by what the people were doing. Jesse stared at the man feeling his heart race, he wanted him as his own.

The prisoners were brought into the throne room where Jack and Gabriel judged the severity of the punishment they would receive. One by one, the prisoners were divided into groups of ones to be executed and those who would be imprisoned, Jesse stood by and watched the spectacle, they soon reached the one with the tattoo, Jesse looked at his fathers to learn their answer, hoping that he would only be a prisoner, Gabriel stood. "You were the one who attacked my beloved unprovoked when attempting to make an agreement to avoid the mutiny that occurred, for this act you will be beheaded." He announced.

Jesse saw the fear in the man's eyes, like he had no idea what he did would result in a public execution, Jesse couldn’t let this happen and ran to his dad. "Father wait!" Jesse exclaimed. "This man seems to be conflicted about something, let him speak of his actions." He requested, Jack and Gabriel looked at their son then at each other before Gabriel turned back to the man. "Very well, explain yourself to us." He demanded.

A guard pushed the man forward and he looked down at his feet. "I only did as my king father told me, he ordered me to kill on sight, no matter what you say." The man explained, Jack leaned forward. "Your father is king of the Shimada empire?" He asked, the man nodded and held his head high. "I am Hanzo Shimada, loyal son and servant of my family's empire." He replied, this man didn’t look anything like a prince, his hair was matted in dirt and his clothes looked like that of rags, the only way they knew he was honest was the royal crest branded on his right shoulder, not much was known about the Shimada empire, but it was said that royal offspring had their symbol branded on their bodies.

The two kings looked between one another, unsure of what to do with the son of their enemy, Jesse was staring at Hanzo with great interest, Hanzo noticed and attempted to cover his body with his long hair, Jack and Gabriel took notice and made the decision with a nod between them.

"You will serve as concubine to our son." Gabriel announced, Jesse looked both surprised and pleased with this decree, Hanzo on the other hand looked terrified, he knew what happened to concubines if they didn't serve their purpose. The sentencing concluded and Hanzo was dragged away to be prepared for his new position.

-

Hanzo had to be held down as he was bathed, clothed and done up for the prince, the handmaidens made numerous comments about how his hair looked like it had never been combed once and he reeked of a pigsty, Hanzo didn't understand why they mentioned it.

After nearly two hours, Hanzo was ready, he had been covered in sweet smelling oils and was dressed in tight blue silks covered with silver dust, his hair had been braided and decorated with sapphires, his ears had been pierced and platinum and sapphire earrings adorned his lobes, platinum anklets and bracelets shimmered in the candlelight of the room and an aquamarine and sapphire necklace wrapped around his neck tightly. Hanzo looked in the mirror and was shocked, in all his life he never knew what he looked like clean and done up, he actually began to smile until he remembered why he was dressed like this.

Hanzo was escorted to the prince's chambers, the door slammed closed behind him and Hanzo suddenly felt afraid again, luckily the prince was not there yet so he had time to attempt escape, Hanzo ran to the window thinking he could jump out and escape but he was in a tower and the jump would be suicide, he tried the door but it was locked, Hanzo fell to his knees losing hope, he knew his fate as a concubine was to be the royal whore for a couple months, the prince would tire of him and he would be killed, he would have preferred execution over this torment.

The door soon opened and Jesse walked in, he saw Hanzo looking absolutely gorgeous and absolutely defeated, he walked over, knelt down and cupped his concubine's cheek. "Why are you so sad darlin'? Your life has been spared." He said with a smile, Hanzo sneered and slapped Jesse's hand away. "For only a few measly months and only to be your whore…" He spat, Jesse was surprised but his smile returned before he chuckled and stood up straight. "That was not my decision, it was my parents', I don’t wish to exploit you for sexual pleasure or to take your life in such a short time.”

Hanzo looked confused as Jesse helped him to his feet. “I’m in love with you Hanzo Shimada and I want to prove this to you, I will treat you like a king, even if you don't love me back I wish to win your heart no matter how long it takes.” Jesse proclaimed, Hanzo was understandably shocked by this brazen confession, he felt his cheeks heat up from how flustered he was and it only got worse when Jesse kissed his hand. “Come, let’s toast to new friends.” He said, he poured them some goblets of wine and handed Hanzo one, Hanzo blushed and slowly sipped the wine.

It took a couple more cups before the two were buzzed, Hanzo was sitting in front of the fireplace with Jesse and slowly sipping his twelfth cup, at first the wine was just social lubricant but Hanzo kept requesting more, Jesse was only on his fifth and was only slightly buzzed but Hanzo was wasted, trying to sit up straight and keep a coherent sentence. “I think you’ve had enough darlin’.” Jesse said as he took away the goblet, Hanzo whined and tried to reach for his cup but fell flat on his face, Jesse helped him back up but Hanzo tried to pull away, thinking Jesse was trying to make a move on him, only to fall back onto the floor, he ended up falling asleep before he could even attempt to get back up, Jesse chuckled and picked the man up before putting him in the bed. “Goodnight my treasure~” He said softly, he took Hanzo’s hand and kissed it before getting into bed himself, he kept his body turned away from Hanzo to avoid accidentally touching him and disturbing his sleep.

-

The next day Hanzo woke up with a splitting headache and no memory from last night except for having a couple drinks, Jesse holding him and him pushing away before passing out, he finally sat up and noticed he was still in Jesse’s room, in Jesse’s bed but the prince wasn't in the room, the mattress was extremely soft and so were the pillows and blankets, much softer than home… Hanzo looked down expecting to be naked but surprisingly he was still in the outfit from yesterday, suddenly the door opened and a maid came in holding a tray. “Good morning sir, his highness prince Jesse asked me to bring you breakfast.” She said as she set down the tray, Hanzo was stunned by the kind treatment but accepted the breakfast and began to eat.

After finishing breakfast, Hanzo was led by some handmaidens to take a bath and change his clothes, the handmaidens complimented Hanzo’s hair and how beautiful it was now that it was cleaned, Hanzo blushed at the compliments before he was put into a red silk outfit and decorated with gold and ruby jewelry.

Jesse entered the room just as Hanzo finished getting his hair done, he smiled and walked over to his concubine. “You look as beautiful as yesterday.” The prince said sweetly, Hanzo blushed as Jesse took his hand and kissed it. “T-thank you your highness…” He replied softly. "Not that I don't appreciate it but why do I have to wear these clothes?"

Hanzo's outfits had been rather provocative so far, tight fitting and rather revealing, Jesse chuckled. "You're considered my concubine in the eyes of the staff and all concubines must be appealing to the eye if they're seen in public, honestly you're already eye catching without all the glamorous accessories." He replied, Hanzo blushed at the compliment, he didn't understand the prince at all, did he not know what a concubine was?

Hanzo allowed Jesse to lead him into the gardens, he was still weary of the prince’s intentions and didn’t fully believe the heartfelt confession he made yesterday, he also had no idea what happened last night and if the prince violated him or not, they were sitting by the fountain and Jesse was going on and on about random things from sword fighting to his art lessons, Hanzo just listened, sometimes adding in a correction of proper weapon use, but he honestly had nothing else to say, he may have been a prince like Jesse but his early life was far different. All of a sudden Jesse walked over to a rose bush, pulled off a flower then plucked all the thorns off the stem before returning to Hanzo’s side and putting the flower in his hair. “Just as beautiful as you~” He said softly, Hanzo blushed and sheepishly thanked Jesse for the flower.

Hanzo was then brought to the library, there was enough books to build an entire mansion by the looks of it, Hanzo gazed in amazement. "I've never seen so many books before…" He said still in awe, Jesse chuckled. "Would you like to read one?" He asked, Hanzo looked confused. "Read them? I thought they were only meant for decoration…"

Jesse looked at Hanzo in shock. "You've never read a book before?" He questioned, Hanzo shook his head, Jesse looked displeased before taking Hanzo's hand and leading him into the library. "That needs to change, there's amazing stories and mountains of knowledge to be discovered in books, I can't believe you never knew about this." He explained, Hanzo was then sat on a couch as Jesse walked over to a bookshelf, he picked out five books and brought them over. "These were some of my favorites when I was younger, I'm sure you'll find one of them interesting."

Hanzo looked at the small pile before grabbing the one on top, it had a picture of a dragon on it so he was initially curious. Hanzo opened the book and his eyes lit up. "There's words and pictures in here! What does it say!?" Hanzo asked in excitement, looking at Jesse.

Jesse gave him a confused look. "You can't even read? Your parents never taught you?" He questioned, Hanzo shook his head. "They said schooling wasn't important for battle, I don't even know how to write." He explained, Jesse looked horrified. "I'm schooling you myself! No one should be deprived of knowledge!" He exclaimed.

-

As time went on, Jesse showed Hanzo how to read and write, Hanzo took to reading a lot and Jesse had some servants bring some of the books Hanzo liked most to their room. Hanzo really began to appreciate the prince's kindness and the more time they spent together learning, practicing fighting techniques or just hanging around the castle, Hanzo found himself falling in love with Jesse, he was so sweet and didn't treat him like a concubine, he was just there, a man who the prince wanted to be around, Hanzo was also given the option of less revealing clothes opposed to the ones he was made to wear, he was quite happy about that although he did keep wearing the jewelry and getting his hair done.

One night Hanzo was reading in Jesse's room by the fireplace when Jesse came and joined him, Hanzo raved about everything happening in the story when he noticed Jesse was just smiling at him, the flames from the fire reflecting in his eyes, Hanzo didn't even take time to process what he was doing before he and Jesse's lips connected, when they parted Jesse was still smiling. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time~" He said softly, Hanzo blushed and looked away shyly. "Jesse…. Thank you… nobody has ever been so kind to me, I would have died if it wasn't for you and I…. I think I love you too." He replied in a quiet voice, Jesse cupped Hanzo's cheek and kissed him again, the kiss lasted much longer as Hanzo wrapped his arms around the prince.

When the two parted once again, Jesse reached into his pocket and pulled out a platinum and sapphire ring. "Marry me Hanzo, I promise that I will always be with you and make you the happiest man on earth if you become my bride." He requested, Hanzo smiled and held out his hand to accept the ring, Jesse smiled and slipped it onto his beloved's finger before they kissed again. Unknown to the two lovers, a dark presence was watching from the shadows.

-

The kingdom celebrated their prince's engagement, even Jack and Gabriel were thrilled by the news, Hanzo was deemed a member of the royal court and had extensive knowledge of his family's magic uses, not many knew the uses or strength of the dark arts but Hanzo was able to fill in the blanks, the weeks leading up to the wedding were full of excitement as Jesse taught Hanzo how to dance while they planned their big day.

But meanwhile, Hanzo's family was watching. They had escaped the castle before the army burst in, they had left Hanzo and their soldiers to die so they could run off to their fortress in the mountains.

They had planned to retake their kingdom with the help of their prince but now Hanzo had turned against them, he had learned… Hanzo now understood what was being done to him in his family's empire wasn't right, being forced to wear rags, being made sleep in a shack next to the pig pen in the courtyard, being refused an education, proper food or basic hygiene wasn't right and this was all thanks to Jesse, he gave Hanzo everything he could ever possibly want and more, he showed him that those who cared about and loved him wouldn't make him live like a peasant.

The Shimada family had to watch all of this from their spying spells, every book Jesse gave, every meal Jesse served, every gentle kiss he placed on Hanzo's hand, it had unraveled their entire life's work, they wanted Hanzo to remain an obedient soldier who wouldn't question anything even when he took the throne but all that was gone and it was all thanks to the prince.

They. Wanted. Revenge.

The wedding was now in five days and the couple finally had time to unwind, Jesse left on his horse for his usual hunting trip in the forest, he waved goodbye to Hanzo who was at the castle gates and waving back.

Jesse arrived in the forest and looked around for a good target, he saw it in mere seconds, a female deer. Jesse gently kicked his horse and they gave chase after the animal, unaware how deep into the forest he was going. When they finally caught up to the deer, it was stopped in a clearing and was just staring at him, Jesse was confused by this and got off his horse to investigate, he slowly walked closer to the deer when it suddenly turned into a snake, this scared Jesse's horse and it ran off into the woods, Jesse was about to follow suit but the snake jumped and bit him on the hand, Jesse yelped in pain and looked at his hand and then at the snake, his vision began to blur, he couldn't stand up straight, the last thing Jesse saw before he collapsed was the snake taking the form of a woman.

Jesse laid motionless on the ground, the sorceress laughed maniacally at the effectiveness of her poison, she then said an incantation the clearing began to be surrounded with brambles and thorns of any kind, she quickly made her escape from the cage and placed a guardian by the prison before vanishing.

It had now been four days since Jesse left and Hanzo was still waiting for him to return which was odd, Jesse had been gone so long and their big day was tomorrow. Hanzo soon noticed Jesse's horse running into the kingdom and towards the castle, Jesse was finally back!

Hanzo ran down to the courtyard where the horse was to greet his fiancé but to his shock, Jesse was not on the horse, Hanzo immediately had a bad feeling, if Jesse had been gone this long and only his horse had returned, something had gone wrong. "Bring me a horse, sword and my bow!" He demanded, the stable workers nodded and fetched Hanzo what he needed, Hanzo immediately snatched the weapons, got onto his horse and rode towards the forest, he reached the edge of the trees and felt a strange aura around it, something wicked had been casted in the forest… Hanzo was about to head in when suddenly…

"Stop boy."

Hanzo froze when he heard the voice, he turned around and there was his grandfather, along with his uncles. "What are you all doing here?" He spat, his grandfather smirked. "We're here to bring you home, where you belong." He replied, Hanzo glared at him. "I am home grandfather, and I'm going to find where my fiancé is so if you'll excuse me-"

"There's no need to boy, he's gone."

Hanzo snapped back to his grandfather. "What do you mean?" He asked, venom dripping from his words, the elder snapped his fingers and a crystal ball appeared, it showed Jesse in the clearing, laying as if he were dead, his hand bleeding from the snake bite. "The poison was sleeping death, he'll never wake up, he's gone Hanzo."

Hanzo's eyes filled with tears, he couldn't believe it… He basically lost the person who saved him from death in more ways than one… Hanzo wanted to sob but he let out this agonizing scream, it was so loud that the crystal ball shattered, Hanzo then drew his bow and shot his grandfather in the heart before he grabbed his sword to battle his uncles, Hanzo showed no mercy for his family, the ones that tormented and abused him were shown the horror of what they created, a ruthless warrior that could only be stopped by death. “YOU DID THIS! YOU COULDN’T STAND ME BEING HAPPY AND YOU SENTENCED HIM TO DEATH! YOU’RE ALL MONSTERS!” He screamed in anger.

Hanzo eventually bailed out of the fight and ran into the forest, he couldn't leave Jesse there to die alone and forgotten. The cage of thorns was soon in sight and Hanzo made a break for it only to be stopped once more but by a dragon, the guardian the sorceress had placed there. Hanzo was not fazed by the creature and immediately slashed at it but his last few uncles had followed him so he had to dodge arrows left and right but they managed to hit the dragon, this weakened the monster significantly and as Hanzo finished off his treacherous family, he was able to make one last quick slash at the dragon's neck.

The dragon laid slain at Hanzo's feet but Hanzo was not satisfied yet, he passed the creature's corpse and began to cut down the brambles, when he finally managed to make himself an entrance he looked inside, there laying in the light that came through the top of the cage was Jesse, Hanzo dropped his weapons and ran to him, he held his lover in his arms and cried. "I'm sorry Jesse… this is all my fault… My love is what killed you..." He whispered, brushing hair out of his fiancé's face, he gently kissed Jesse's lips as one final act of love before holding him close and crying. Suddenly, Hanzo felt a hand brush away his tears. 

"Darlin'... why are you crying?..."

Hanzo gasped and looked at Jesse and saw his eyes were open and he had a weak smile on his face, Hanzo cried even more and hugged Jesse tightly. "You're awake! I thought I lost your forever!" He sobbed, Jesse hugged Hanzo back and kissed his cheek. "I would never leave you darlin', I made a promise to you." He said softly, Hanzo smiled and kissed Jesse again.

Hanzo and Jesse returned to the kingdom, Jesse was a little weak from his five day sleep so he leaned on Hanzo’s shoulder as they rode home on his horse. “How did you manage to wake me up? You explained to the court that the sleeping death spell was unbreakable, how did you free me?” He asked, Hanzo thought for a moment before realizing the answer. “It was when I kissed you, I remember my parents talked about it near me once and only the kiss of a person you loved that loved you back could wake you.” He explained, Jesse smiled and kissed Hanzo’s cheek. “I knew you were the one the moment I saw you." He said happily.

The next day was the wedding and as expected it was beautiful, Hanzo was dressed in a glittering white and royal blue suit with a golden diamond and sapphire crown which had a veil attached to it, Jesse wore a red suit with gold trim and his golden ruby crown sat proudly atop his head, after the ceremony the reception happened in town square, several chefs and bakers in the kingdom helped the castle kitchen staff prepare the feast for everyone in the city. Hanzo danced with his husband and some villagers having the time of his life but the best part was before the celebration ended, a group of soldiers marched into the middle of the party with the last members of Hanzo’s family in chains.

Hanzo smirked, when he and Jesse had returned to the castle yesterday he told Jack and Gabriel what his family had done, he also told them where the mountain fortress was since he knew that’s where they hid. Jack and Gabriel immediately sent some soldiers to arrest the ones who attempted to kill their son.

Hanzo stood up from his seat next to Jesse looking proud. “Hello everyone, I am so glad you made it to my wedding, however you will not be staying much longer after what you have done, the only person who deserves my pity is my brother Genji and I will be giving him the proper family life he deserves that we never received, with the blessing of my husband and fathers in-law, I sentence you to death.” He announced, he motioned for the soldier holding Genji to step forward, Hanzo took his little brother and held him close while the rest of their treacherous family was dragged away while being booed at by the crowd and pelted with food.

Jesse smiled at his husband and introduced himself to Genji who looked weary but Hanzo knew with a little time he would be okay, just like he was.

THE END

[alpaca-writes]

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

[damonsalvatorefanfiction]

Home // Damon Salvatore x Reader

Description: You’d lost everything, and you just wanted to find home again. Slight AU, major cannon divergence

Words: 20,424

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Violence, Blood Sharing, Semi Slow-Burn

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader

Mystic Falls had been the only home you’d known. For most of your life, you’d never considered leaving. Not until your parents died. Then, you’d left to run away from the memories and predetermined obligations. It had taken you several years and many mistakes to find your way back. At first, you couldn’t call it home, It had taken you a while to get even close to that point. Living in your childhood house definitely didn’t help. Slowly, you’d found a purpose again, working as a deputy with Sheriff Forbes. It helped that you were now on the counsel, working closely with the woman you considered a mentor. 

None of you were expecting Zach Salvatore to move out of town unexpectedly, his spot being filled by his nephew, Damon. The first time you saw Damon, you had a gut instinct that something wasn’t quite what it seemed. His chiseled features were like a marble statue, his pale blue eyes like a lake you could let yourself drown in. You had standards. Your unapproachable demeanor, however, was not heeded by the man.

“I’m Damon Salvatore,” he said, hand extending to take yours. You gave him a courteous smile, shaking his hand.

“Y/N Gilbert,” you answered. 

“As in John Gilbert?” You just nodded to answer, taking your hand away after he held onto it for a few seconds too long. 

“Yes. And you’re descended from Giuseppe Salvatore. His what? Great-great-great-great nephew?” You grabbed one of the glasses off of Mayor Lockwood’s bar, pouring yourself a glass of scotch, not offering to pour Damon one. 

“Something like that.” The way he looked at you was inquisitive, yet also predatory. It sent shivers down your spine, but you shrugged it off. He was more or less a stranger in this small, tight knit circle. 

“Well, Mr Salvatore,” you told him, downing the scotch in one go, “We should get back to the party. They’ll start to wonder where we’ve gone.” 

“Well, Ms Gilbert. Save a dance for me?” You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that wasn’t going to happen.

“These events aren’t my cup of tea. I’m probably going to head home here soon. Maybe next time?” you suggested, getting a nod from the man. “Goodnight, Damon.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but seem to recognize him from somewhere. You weren’t sure where, but it started nagging you that night as soon as you got home. 

-----

You’d dug out the old journals. Vampires were something you’d known about for as long as you could remember. Your father had made sure you knew, had made sure you were protected with both the knowledge and with the magic. Though, he was never sure why Vervain worked so well. You had to figure out why you felt Damon was hiding something. It didn’t make sense that Zach would leave town so suddenly, and have Damon replace him. That’s not how any of this worked. 

The journals were spread out, flipping through them until you got to 1864. 1864 was a big year for Mystic Falls. That was the year they’d burned all the vampires. Or so they thought, as you looked through the photo albums that had been meticulously passed down through the generations. 1864. 1864. You couldn’t get the year out of your head as you read the name ‘Damon Salvatore’ on the page in front of you. 1864. A labeled photograph of the man in a Confederate uniform. A dead ringer for the man you’d just met that day, his brother to his left and his father to the right. 

There was no way the Damon Salvatore you’d met was the same as the one on the page. In your years you’d been gone, you’d studied everything you could get your hands on when it came to the vampires. You’d heard of doppelgangers, but this was different. As far as you knew, that was one lineage, one that Damon didn’t belong to. Either the genetics passed through his family were...coincidental, or Damon Salvatore was a vampire.

You weren’t sure what to do with that information, but you knew you had to find out for sure. 

-----

The next morning, you’d driven to the Salvatore Boarding House, knocking on the door. Instead of Damon, you were met by his brother Stefan, your breath catching at the back of your throat. You couldn’t act nervous or scared. So, you cleared your throat.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m looking for Damon,” you told him with a faux smile. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. All the vampires were supposed to be out of Mystic Falls. But with the string of animal attacks, the counsel knew they were back. And here they were. It had to have been the Salvatore brothers. But again, you had to be sure before making accusations. 

“Yeah, he’s upstairs. Come on in, make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get him,” Stefan told you, motioning for you to join him inside. You followed, sitting on the couch and sitting your bag down next to you. 

You looked around, taking in everything you saw. It was no secret the Salvatores had always had money, dating back beyond Mystic Falls. Not to mention, if you were right about them, an additional one-hundred sixty four years give or take. 

“Ms Gilbert,” Damon said with a smile, rolling up the sleeves of his black-button-down. 

“Please, I think we can be on a first name basis, Damon. Especially considering I know,” you answered, starting with a smile before quickly dropping it. 

“And what is it you think you know?” he asked, pouring himself a drink. 

You sighed, pulling out John Gilbert’s journal from 1864 as well as the photo you’d pulled from the album. 

“I thought I’d recognized you from somewhere,” you told him. “I mean, I know you didn’t go to school with me. Or college. I really couldn’t figure it out. But then I got to thinking. I mean, my father would read these old journals to me when I was a kid. He wanted me to know what my destiny would be as a Gilbert. It was gnawing at me all of last night, on my way home. I knew I recognized your name.”

He took a seat next to you, looking at what you were pulling out.

“Giuseppe’s oldest boy, Damon, has returned from the war. My friend is ashamed of his boy, the fact that he has deserted his cause. I know though, that Damon doesn’t share my friend’s beliefs,” you read from the old journal. 

“I saw them,” you continued. “It’s impossible, seeing as though they died that night trying to save the Pierce vampire. But I saw them. I don’t understand why they took pity on me. I am the reason she was taken from them, why they are who they are now. They killed him, Giuseppe, their own father.” When you put the book down, you handed him the photo you’d brought. The one of him as a human.

“It’s no use in trying to lie, is it?” he asked. “You’re on vervain, the entire counsel is. Well, almost the entire counsel.” He took a drink from his glass, fingers tracing over the photo. “Why did you come here, Y/N? If you knew, why risk coming here to confront me about it?”

“I just came back to Mystic Falls less than a year ago, Damon. I got thrown back into the world of hating vampires. In my time gone, I did a lot of soul searching, Occult research. Coming from Mystic Falls, I knew vampires were real. You’re not the first I’ve met. Your brother isn’t the first I’ve met.” 

“Again, you haven’t answered my question. Why did you come here?” he asked again.

“I don’t know, honestly,” you finally answered. “I needed to know it was true. As a kid, I just thought the vampire stories were just that, stories. Until my parents were killed. An animal attack. You and I both know it wasn’t an animal attack, not in this town. Yet, I know not all vampires are ravenous monsters. So, which one are you, Damon?”

“I mean,” he smirked. “A little ravenous monster here, a little not so ravenous monster there. Depends on my mood.” As you watched him, you couldn’t help but watch his facial expressions. They were unique, almost exaggerated, not all of them though. Just some. And the way he looked at you, still that borderline predatory look, yet he seemed interested in what you were telling him.

“Still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but okay. I’m sure I’ll understand eventually. So, what do you want out of this? I mean, surely this is blackmail.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to blackmail a vampire that could easily kill me in two seconds flat, Damon?” you asked, getting a shrug as a response. “I’m not that stupid. There’s nothing I want from you. I just need to know one thing. The string of animal attacks that happened a few weeks ago. Who was it?”

“Me.” 

-----

You woke from your nap on the couch to the sound of somebody knocking on your front door. You’d had a late night at work, offering to take the dreaded night-shift for Sheriff Forbes. You knew Liz was worried since the animal attacks started that a vampire was in town. Little did she know the vampire was hiding right under their noses. Except yours, obviously. All thanks to your father. 

Groaning, you got up and rubbed your eyes. The incessant knocking didn’t stop.

“Coming!” you called out, tying your robe over your pajamas before opening the door. “Damon? What do you want?” you asked, leaning against the door-frame. 

“Well, seeing as you’re the only one who knows about us, figured we might as well get to know each other,” he suggested.

“As much as I would love to, Damon, I worked last night and I work tonight, so…” You let yourself trail off, hoping he would get the hint. 

“Come on, Y/N. A drink, some lunch. I can cook.” He was tempting, but you knew better.

“Goodbye, Damon.” You shut the door in his face, seeing the look of confusion on his face right before the door shut. 

-----

Damon was incessant on trying to get to know you, showing up at your house every few days with offers of wine and food. And each time, you made him stay outside, trying to find a reason to not be around him. He was a killer, a vampire. Why would you even want to spend time with him? Yet, you did. 

"Damon, I swear to God I'll get a restraining order," you said, pulling the door open. 

He was leaning against the door-frame again, smirk on his face as always. This time, in his hands he held a to-go bag and a bottle of wine. 

"Look, you don't have to let me in. But at least eat lunch with me on the porch. Please?" he asked, trying to play the sweet guy. 

"Fine. I'll get glasses. You stay out there." You weren't sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the interest you had, wanting to learn more about vampires. And maybe deep down, you wanted to learn more about Damon. 

You joined him on the porch swing, setting the wine glasses on the patio table. He'd already started setting out the carry out boxes,  opening them up. 

"Burgers from The Grill," he told you, sliding one over to you. If he was going to annoy you every day for the past two weeks, you were going to have a little fun with him. 

"Damon, I'm vegetarian," you said, looking at the burger before looking back at him with a sad look. 

"Oh, well I'll just go back and get you a veggie burger," he said, brows furrowing as he stood up, going to grab the box. At that point, you laughed, slapping his hand away from the burger box.

“I’m kidding, Damon,” you assured him, picking up the burger and taking a bite. He scowled and shook his head, sitting next to you again. “So, why have you been hounding me for weeks about having a meal together?” you then asked as he poured the wine. 

“Because it took you all of less than twelve hours for you to figure out our secret. You...intrigue me,” he answered, taking a drink from his wine glass. “And it’s a plus you didn’t try to kill us, though you are a Gilbert.” 

“Well, I’ve learned to give people the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t easily give second chances, Damon. That’s something you need to understand. And I expect the truth.” He nodded, the two of you eating in relative silence aside from the sounds of the town around you. 

“From what I gathered, your parents died and you left. Why? If you knew how they died, why not try to get revenge?” he asked you. 

“Not everybody wants revenge. It wasn’t going to bring them back. Not to mention, whoever it was was long gone by the time we found them.” You took a drink, not expecting him to bring up this line of conversation so soon. 

“But you knew how they died. Why not just go full vampire hunter at that point? You had every right to do so, Y/N.” He didn’t seem to understand your first answer. 

“Like I said, it wasn’t going to bring them back, Damon. Now, my turn. Why did you come back after all this time?” You propped your feet up on the patio table, crossing your ankles with wine glass in hand. You didn’t see a reason to not make yourself comfortable. 

“My little bro decided to come back. Figured we hadn’t seen each other in a few decades.” His cockiness radiated off of him as he spoke, shrugging off his leather jacket to show a grey v-neck. 

“And the trail of bodies you’ve left in your wake?” you continued.

“Look, I’m not the best of guys. And I mean, I am a vampire after all. But no worries, I’m reformed. For the most part. No more drink and dump. Now, drink and erase. No more bodies, cross my heart,” he assured you, making an X over his heart with his index finger. 

“Why do I intrigue you?” That was something you needed to know. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted. “It’s my turn to ask. Why won’t you let me in?” 

“I don’t fully trust you yet, Damon. Trust is something you have to earn, especially since you’ve infiltrated the counsel.” He nodded, seeming to understand your hesitation, but he seemed hurt.

You could tell he tried to hide how he felt, tried to not show any emotion on his face as to not give himself away. 

“We should do this more often, Y/N, but I have business to attend to. I’ll see you around,” he told you, getting up, leaving the half-drank bottle of wine and dishes for you to clean up.  

-----

It became routine. Once a week, Damon would bring take-out and you’d eat on the porch, learning new things, learning about each other. It was fun, interesting. You’d learned about the daylight rings, which explained how he walked in the sun. It took several months, but he finally started to earn your trust.

“I got Italian this time,” Damon told you with that cocky smile. Just opening the door was enough to make you sweat. 

“Damon, how are you not sweltering in that jacket?” you asked him. You’d prepared for a hot day by dressing in a tank top and shorts, but even then, it wasn’t enough, and yet here Damon was in a leather jacket. 

“I really don’t feel temperature like humans do,” he reminded you. “Now, you coming outside or what?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking your head. 

“It’s too hot outside. So…” You smiled, stepping out of his path in front of the door. “Come inside, Damon.” 

You could definitely tell his smile was of the cocky nature, knowing he finally had access to your house whenever he wanted. He walked over to the dining room table, setting everything up as you grabbed plates. 

“Now, I have some ground rules, Damon. Because I know you,” you told him, the both of you sitting down. He raised an eyebrow, so you continued. “No breaking and entering when I’m not home. Don’t randomly be in my house when I get home. No creepy stalker stuff, got it?”

“Don’t watch you as you sleep. Don’t watch you in the shower. Don’t show up when you’re not here. Got it,” he repeated back. 

“Why is it as soon as I say no creepy stalker stuff, you automatically go to watching me sleep, or in the shower?” you asked, separating the food onto the plates as he poured the wine. “And plus, how many bottles of wine have you bought for our lunches since we started hanging out?”

“Too many,” he answered with a laugh. “So, what will we talk about today?”

You leaned back, taking a drink from your glass and looking at him. There wasn’t anything the two of you hadn’t talked about in the twelve weeks you’d been hanging out. 

“What’s with the look?” he then asked, which confused you. 

“What look?” you countered. 

“That look,” he said, motioning to your face. “That look of...I’m not sure what.”

“Damon, of all the things you could be doing on Wednesday afternoons, all of the girls you could take home, or the drinks at the bar you could be having with Alaric. Why do you spend Wednesdays with me?” you asked. 

“You’re...a friend, Y/N. I like spending time with you, just how I like spending time with Rick,” he told you. 

“I’m not that interesting. What’s the phrase? Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?” you countered. Surely that had to be why he’d stuck around. You knew his secret, so that had to be it. You regretted it as soon as you’d said it, though, the look of hurt on his face obvious for a split second. If you hadn’t known him, you would have missed his tell, then the stoic Damon showed up again.

“You think that little of me?” He downed the rest of his glass. 

“Damon, that’s not-” He held up his hand, cutting you off. 

“I’ll see you at the Founders Party tomorrow,” he said, getting up, and leaving without letting you say anything else.

-----

You’d felt bad about what you’d implied the day before, and you were determined to apologize. As much as you hated the Founders Party, you knew you had to go to keep up appearances and fulfill obligations. Not to mention, you could see Damon. You did your hair with simple curls. It took a minute to figure out what to wear. It had to be elegant, but not extravagant. Which is why you chose a burgundy, long sleeve lace cocktail dress and a pair of black heels to accentuate your legs.

You showed up, looking around for Damon but not being able to find him. Not for a while, not until the counsel meeting started. The two of you shared looks from across the room as the meeting talked about how there’d been no more animal attacks -- having been months ago, that it seems like it might have just been a vampire passing through. There was nothing anybody had to do for a while. 

“Damon,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could leave the room. You’d asked Liz to make sure you could have the room with Damon, that the two of you needed to talk about some stuff. You didn’t elaborate further with her. She didn’t need to know. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N,” he told you, clenching his jaw. 

“Yes there is, Damon. I’m sorry about yesterday. It’s just...It’s going to take a while for me to get used to it all,” you reminded him. 

“It’s not like I’ve been tricking you like everyone else,” he reminded you. “It’s not like you found out months after the fact that I was a vampire,” he said, hissing the last word so nobody could hear. 

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “But it’s been ingrained in my brain to hate vampires for my entire life. I invited you in my house, Damon. That took a lot of trust. I trust you because you’re my friend.”

“So, you’re lowkey saying you’re worried I’m going to come in and kill you in the middle of the night. Or at least feed on you. Because I know you don’t drink vervain like most of the others. You wear yours.” His fingers toyed with your bracelet.  

“I trust you, Damon,” you assured him with a tight smile. 

“Good, because I would never do that to you.” You nodded, taking him in a hug. He stiffened up for a moment before hesitantly doing the same. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Good. I think I owe you a dance.” He gave you that smug smirk again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, no tricks, Damon.” 

“I mean, you already agreed to a dance. All the tricks are fair game.” You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you made your way to the dance floor, Damon pulling you close. You let him lead, not being much of a dancer, not taking your eyes off him. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Damon was your closest friend. Even if he was a vampire. 

You saw him glance around the room before looking at you again. But he didn’t try any tricks. Once the song was done, he let you go with a smile. 

“I really don’t like these things,” you told him. “So I’m going to go home.” It was just like you’d told him when you’d first met. You really didn’t like these kinds of parties. 

“I’ll walk with you.” You smiled and nodded, taking his arm as the two of you walked out of the party. You couldn’t help but feel some eyes on the two of you as you left. “You know,” he said, speaking softly, almost a whisper in your ear, “I was at the first Founders Party. You can see my name on the original guest list.”

“I don’t know why that surprises me. Maybe it’s the way John wrote about you, how much you seemed to hate your father.” Again, you felt him stiffen against you. “I don’t mean to make assumptions, Damon.”

“It’s no secret my father and I didn’t get along,” he told you. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t go for other reasons. Let’s just say, I was young and in love. We’ve never talked about how I got in this vampire situation. And that will be a discussion for another day.” 

The rest of the walk went by in silence, you leaning into him a little more. You didn’t live far from the Lockwood’s, but the heels were still a pain. Once you were on your porch, if you were being honest, you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want the night to end, but you knew it had to. Because Damon was your friend. 

“Goodnight, Damon,” you told him with a smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He gave you a smile, making sure you got inside before leaving. 

-----

“Damon, what did I say about breaking and entering?” you asked as you tossed your backpack on the couch, seeing him rummaging around in your kitchen. 

“What do you know about werewolves?” he asked, continuing to search until he pulled out your grandmother’s silverware. 

“Not much. I mean, in my travels, I’ve heard of a few packs here and there. But for the most part, they’re almost extinct. Why?” He grabbed the silver knife out of the box, twirling it in his hand as he turned to look at you. You were in the middle of taking off your work uniform, stripping down to your tank top and compression shorts. “Don’t ogle, Damon.” 

“Not ogling, just admiring,” he assured you as you ran upstairs to put actual pants on, though that was the exact same thing. 

“What’s with the interest in werewolves, Dae?” He looked at you confused. “Your name can be a mouthful sometimes. Just trying something new.” He just shrugged. “Now, answer my question. Why the interest in werewolves?”

“Because one just strolled into town. Mason Lockwood,” he answered. “Also, keep this if you need it.” He put a baggie of some herb on the counter. 

“What is it?” you asked, picking it up. You knew he was freaking out, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “And when is the next full moon?” 

“Wolfsbane. Think of it like the vervain to werewolves. And tonight.” You nodded. “I want you to stay here. Call of work. Please? I pissed off Mason Lockwood, and he’s got murder on the mind.”

“Damon, I knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. Vampires, definitely. Werewolves, not so much. But I can’t just not go into work.” It wasn’t possible, not sure what excuse you’d come up with. Not to mention your perfect track record of attendance. Plus, you wouldn’t want Liz to be the one out there with a werewolf on the loose. 

“For me.” He took your hands in his, squeezing gently.

“Dae...I can’t. Because then it would be Liz out there. And she has a daughter at home. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head, grabbing the knife. 

“I guess I’ll have to deal with Mason before the full moon then. I’ll get this back to you.” He put the knife in his jacket before heading towards the door. 

“Be careful out there, okay? A werewolf bite is lethal to vampires,” you warned him, thinking he probably already knew. However, his sudden stop and the look of confusion on his face said otherwise. “You didn’t know?”

“Up until like three days ago, I thought the mutts were extinct!” he told you aggressively. “Which given the fact that a bite will kill me is a pretty damn good reason for you to stay home. Because if I can’t kill Mason before the full-moon, I’m going to be too worried about you.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. It was a predicament. You didn’t want anything to happen to him. Plus, if he was too worried about you, it would put him at risk. 

“Fine. I’ll tell Liz I’m sick, but I stay at your place. It would make me feel a bit better if there’s a werewolf on the loose.” 

“Okay. Pack a bag,” he agreed. “We’ll go now, and then I’ll start my hunt for the big bad wolf.” 

-----

“You know, in the what...nine months? That we’ve been friends I’ve only been to your place once,” you reminded him in the car on the drive. “We need to have lunch at your place sometime because mine is getting boring. Plus, I want to know more about you Damon Salvatore.”

“No going snooping in the underwear drawer,” he warned you with a mischievous grin.

“Oh you’re one to talk about boundaries. Because I clearly remember telling you not to break into my house. And what did you do today? Broke into my house.” He just shrugged with an ‘eh’ which earned him a slap on the arm. 

When the two of you arrived, he gave you almost the grand tour. He left out the juicy bits, like his bedroom and Stefan’s. He focused on the guest room and the main floor, leading you around until the two of you were back in the living room. 

“Bourbon?” he asked, pouring himself one. You just shook your head, knowing it was too early in the day for you. 

“I’m going to head upstairs and to bed. Because one of us works the night shift, and you’ve kept me up most of the morning when I’m usually asleep.” You went to stand up when all of a sudden he was right in front of you. It was just part of the ‘my best friend is a vampire’ life.

“What if you tell me everything you know about werewolves, and if you fall asleep, I’ll make sure you get to bed?” he suggested. You couldn’t help but sigh, knowing he needed the information if he was going to go up against Mason Lockwood. Which was insane, because you’d gone to school with the guy -- albeit being a couple years younger than him. 

“Fine, because I don’t need you getting yourself killed,” you agreed, laying down on the couch. He sat at the opposite end, your legs and feet propped up on his lap as he nursed his bourbon. “What do you know?”

“Werewolves turn with the full moon. Silver kills them. Wolfsbane hurts them. And oh yeah, if I get bitten, I’m dead,” he answered, setting his glass down on the table before rubbing your feet. You could almost melt into the couch.

“First of all, the silver does nothing to them. In fact, they heal faster with silver than anything else. So give me my grandmother’s knife back,” you told him with a sigh.

“I’ll make sure you get it back. Continue,” he urged, needing to know. 

“Kill them like you would anybody else. Severe blood loss, suffocation, decapitation. In human form, they’re fast and strong and usually need some anger management, and in wolf form...Well, I don’t really know that one. Tell me, why do you want to kill Mason? And why am I helping you?”

“You’re helping me because you don’t want to see me die. And let’s just say Mason and I had a disagreement, and werewolves are the mortal enemy of vampires. The rest of the details are unimportant in this situation.”

“The details are important because, one, I’m the deputy in this town, and two, you’re telling me you’re going to kill someone I’ve known almost my entire life. I deserve an answer since I’m helping you after all.” 

“Fine. Mason and I had an argument. He threatened to out me and Stefan to the counsel -- which included his brother, the mayor. Who doesn’t seem to know about the whole werewolf thing. Unless I give him something he wants, which I won’t do. Family heirlooms and all that.” You nodded, eyes drifting shut.

This wasn’t something you were going to agree with, ever. But you knew there was no talking Damon out of it. His mind was made up, and you didn’t want to get hurt by either man. You’d learned in your years away from home not to get in the middle of a pissing match, figuring Damon wouldn’t actually kill Mason, just teach him a lesson.

-----

You woke to a heated argument downstairs. Looking outside, you saw that it was sunrise, so you figured it was Damon downstairs. You were surprised you’d slept that long, but whatever. Making your way downstairs, you could tell the other voice was Stefan, but still couldn’t really make out what they were saying. 

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing your eyes as you entered the room, Damon quickly rolling down his sleeves, a layer of gleaming sweat on his skin. 

“Well, Mason Lockwood is still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Damon answered, taking a shot of one of the alcohols on the table, not sure which one. Stefan shot his brother a look before stalking out of the room. 

“What’s up with your brother?” You sat down on the couch next to him, taking your own shot. He stared at the fire going in the fireplace, jaw clenched. Something wasn’t right when he wouldn’t even look at you. “Dae, talk to me.”

It took him a while to say anything, his hand resting on your knee, your hand resting on the top of his. After a few minutes, you leaned your head on his shoulder, which made him relax just a little, but not enough. 

“Damon, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” you finally asked again after nearly fifteen minutes of silence, of him just watching the fire. 

He pulled his hand away from your knee, which got your attention, so you leaned away from him, watching as he slid the sleeve up on his other arm to reveal a bite mark. You couldn’t help but gasp, grabbing his arm to inspect it. The sudden contact caused him to hiss in pain, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the wound already looked infected, necrotic at the point of contact. Damon was going to die. 

“How are you feeling?” He scoffed at the question, pulling his arm away and quickly getting up. 

“How-How am I feeling?” he asked, angry, not trying to hide it. “For once in my existence, things were going right for me, Y/N! I’m feeling angry! I want to rip that mutt’s heart out. Stefan thinks he can find a cure, but...” He leaned against the chair with his good hand before a coughing fit wracked through his body. 

“Why don’t you go lay down, Damon?” you suggested, but he just shook his head. 

“I’m not spending what could be my last day in bed, Y/N. I don’t want that.” 

You understood where he was coming from. If it was you, you’d want to spend as much time as you could with those you cared about. 

“Do you want me to call Rick and get him over here?” you asked as you stood, walking over to him as he began coughing again. 

“No. No, I don’t want him knowing. Stefan will tell him later,” he assured you as his breathing became more labored. “Maybe laying down will be a good thing. Come with me?” 

“Of course.” 

You let him drape an arm around your shoulders as you hooked one around his waist, slowly making your way up the stairs to his bedroom. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were terrified to lose him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, and if something happened to Damon, you would kill Mason yourself. 

“Lay down,” you instructed as Damon sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you need to be comfortable?” All you wanted was for him to be comfortable.

“In the basement there’s a cooler,” he told you. “With blood bags. Can you-?” 

You didn’t let him finish the sentence, knowing what he was getting at, quickly agreeing. You wanted to scream, to throw something. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. Instead, all you could do was be there for him. You grabbed a couple of the bags from the cooler, letting out a sigh before turning around and being startled by Stefan standing there.

“Stefan, you scared me,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “It’s not good is it?” You could tell by the solemn look on the younger Salvatore’s face.

“I have a friend, Lexi, who might know somebody who knows somebody who knows a cure. But it might take a while. And we don’t know how long Damon has.” You nodded, not wanting to hear what he was saying. But you had to. “You’re good for him, you know. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

“Out of curiosity, how long?” Damon had only given you bits and pieces of the story of his existence. You understood though, considering how long he’d been around. Some stories he’d think would scare you off. 

“Not since 1864. Go, be with him. He needs you now more than ever,” Stefan told you, stepping out of your way so you could make your way back upstairs. On the way, you grabbed a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. 

When you got back up to Damon’s room, his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, had kicked his shoes off which landed just off the foot of his bed. He looked almost peaceful, if you didn’t know that he was dying. Which was brought back to your attention quickly as another coughing fit started deep in his chest. This time though, you saw blood come from his lips, landing on the palm of his hand. 

“You’re okay,” you assured, rushing to his side to clean the blood off his hand. 

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m not going to be okay.” 

“Let me have my hope, Mr Pessimistic.” You joined him in bed, his head resting on your lap for the time being as your hand stroked through his hair. His breathing evened out as he fell asleep. 

You did everything you could to not cry, trying to tell yourself that he’d lived a long life. But what Stefan had told you echoed through your head. Was this really the happiest he’d been since his human life had ended? You didn’t want to believe it to be true, but he did seem a lot happier than when you first met him. He seemed more relaxed, less high strung. 

Every once in a while he would cough hard enough to wake himself up, the thin layer of sweat becoming thicker, his skin getting hotter. You’d started dabbing his face with the wet washcloth, trying to cool him down, to buy you time. That’s when it really started to get worse. 

“Katherine, I’ll follow you forever,” he said, eyes drifting open and shut. “Turn me so we can be together forever.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, Damon. It’s Y/N,” you reminded him as he sat up. “Here, drink.” 

You handed him one of the blood bags which he quickly downed. You’d never seen him feed, never seen his face change. Not until that moment. The human survival instinct inside of you said to run, to be terrified of the monster. But you couldn’t. Not when your heart started pounding, the sinking feeling in your gut telling you to stay because you didn’t want to be away from him. Not now, not ever. When he finished, he laid back down, this time with his head on your chest, his hands on his own. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, continuing to try and keep him cool with the towel. 

“Tell me about her, Damon,” you told him. “Tell me about Katherine.” He just groaned, and you weren’t sure if it was from pain or from mentioning her.

“She was the most beautiful woman I’d met,” he started. “And she broke my heart. She changed us both, but we both knew she’d chosen Stefan as her favorite, as the one to have her heart. And then she died. What more is there to say?” You rested your chin on the top of his head. 

“Talk to me, Damon, about anything. Everything.” 

You just wanted to hear his voice, tears welling up in your eyes. But he didn’t, falling back asleep. The sun continued its progression through the sky, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he had. 

It felt like you’d dozed off for only a few minutes when you realized he wasn’t there in bed with you, panic filling your body. You searched the house, trying to find him, not sure if he’d left. If he’d left, you didn’t know what to do, not sure what his mind was thinking. That was until you’d found him in the basement with at least ten blood bags around him.

“Damon,” you said softly, trying not to startle him. He looked up at you, hands and mouth covered in blood, but it was more like he looked through you, as if you weren’t really there. “Dae, come back to bed.” 

He didn’t move, and neither did you. “It’s me, Damon. Y/N,” you reminded him, taking a small step towards him. It was the wrong move though, with him being in front of you in a blink of an eye. Your hand grabbed his wrist lightly, hoping that maybe it would ground him. “Come back to bed.”

He didn’t move to leave the basement, though, backing you up until your back was pressed against the cold, concrete wall. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, as if he was going to catch fire any second. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to keep your breathing calm and even. You brought your other hand up, cupping his cheek. There was no telling what he was going to do. The black veins around his eyes were visible, fangs protruding.

“Damon, you don’t want to do this,” you reminded him. “I’m your best friend. You always said you would never hurt me.” 

“Y/N,” he said softly, backing away as his face became his again. You gave a pitiful smile as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain as he clutched his chest. 

“Hey, hey.” You knelt in front of him, pulling him close to you. “You’re going to be okay. Stefan is working on finding a cure. Let’s get you back upstairs.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he half cried as you got him to his feet. 

It took longer than you’d hoped it would to get him up the stairs. Once you got him in bed, you weren’t sure what to do. You had two options. Stay and comfort him and watch him die, or leave and let him die alone. You didn’t even have to weigh your options, joining him on the bed, cleaning the blood off of him before laying next to him with your head on his chest. His breaths were labored and shallow, able to hear him wheeze with every breath. 

“This is even more pitiful than I thought,” he managed to say, eyes half open as you looked up at him. 

“There’s still hope, though. I’m not giving up on you. Just hold on as long as you can, okay?” He nodded weakly. 

“I’ve made a lot of choices that have gotten me here. I deserve this. I deserve to die.”

“No. You don’t,” you said adamantly, tears stinging your eyes. 

“I do, Y/N, it’s okay though. Because if I’d have chosen differently, I wouldn’t have met you. I’m glad to have met you.” His voice was raspy, speaking slowly as if he couldn’t breathe. It was obvious he couldn’t. “You should have met me in 1864. You would have liked me more.”

“I like you just the way you are, Damon.” You held onto his hand, not wanting to let go. 

“You would have loved me back then, Y/N. I’m glad you came into my life when you did. I love you, you should know that. It’s why we had all the lunches, why we hung out so often, why I didn’t try anything. Because I love you,” his voice cracked, every few words interrupted with coughs. Your heart felt like it skipped a beat, hearing him say that. It didn’t come as much of a surprise though.

“I know, Damon. I love you too.” His eyes fluttered open, looking at you with tears in his own eyes, blue eyes glistening. 

“I’ve waited over a century for someone to say that.” Your heart felt like it was breaking. Because this wasn’t enough time for the two of you. Nine months wasn’t long enough. You wanted a lifetime with him. A long, long lifetime. You cupped his cheek, pressing your lips against his softly, moving together until he pulled away, coughing again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

“Damon Salvatore, I love you,” you said again, the corners of his lips pulling up into a weak smile. “I just need you to hold on, okay? I’m sure Stefan will have a cure soon. You can’t leave me yet.”

“Keep an eye on Rick for me,” he told you. “He’s going to need someone there for him. Stefan...He has Lexi. Rick doesn’t have anybody.”

“What about me, Damon? What am I supposed to do?” you asked him, voice cracking.

“You’re going to live a long, happy life without me.” 

You felt him squeeze your hand, and all you wanted to do was run away. You weren’t sure if you could watch him die, because that’s what you’d been doing for the past eight hours, slowly watching him die.

“Is it going to be a happy life, when you’d be my greatest what-if?” you asked softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t move away from him. You had to make sure he was still alive, still breathing as you held back sobs. You’d lost so many people in your life, you didn’t know if you’d be able to handle another one. Especially not Damon. 

“Lexi is almost here,” Stefan told you from the doorway in a hushed voice, trying not to wake Damon. This got your attention, sitting up to look at him, wiping away your tears.

“She found a cure?” He nodded with a sad smile. The only thing you could do was wait and hope that she got to Damon in time. “I can’t lose him, Stefan.”

“I know. Neither can I. So I need to ask you something, Y/N.” You held onto Damon’s hand, feeling the pulse in his wrist continuing to beat. 

“You would never hurt him, right? Katherine...she was the last person he really loved, aside from himself. And she broke him, and he’s never been the same. You’re not just telling him you love him because he’s dying, right?” A part of you wanted to be offended, but you understood where Stefan was coming from. 

“If I wanted to hurt him, I would have told the counsel months ago that he was a vampire. I do love him, Stefan. That isn’t a lie, it could never be a lie. Maybe him dying is what made me realize it, but it doesn’t make it less true.” Stefan nodded as a blonde woman came to stand next to him, a vial in her hand. 

“Sorry to interrupt the moment, but we have a brother to save,” she said with a smile, walking into the room as she popped the cap on the vial. “Damon!” That got him to open his eyes, squinting as his lips parted to say something. “You’re a lucky bastard. Drink this.” 

She put the vial up to his lips, pouring it in his mouth. He grimaced, but swallowed before coughing. 

“Tastes like wet dog,” he mumbled, head falling back on the pillows. 

“Suck it up. Stefan and I are going to go get some drinks and catch up. You should be feeling better soon. You’re welcome!” she told him as she walked out of the room. It didn’t take a genius to realize they didn’t get along the greatest. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking him over. His pale skin was slowly getting color back, his breathing less labored. 

“A little better. Doesn’t feel like I’m drowning anymore,” he admitted, reaching out to hold your hand. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Of course I did, Damon.” His face softened, looking like he was going to cry. But he didn’t, because he was Damon afterall. He rarely showed actual emotion. 

“Come’ere,” he told you, pulling you to him. Your face nuzzled in his neck, breathing him in. His shirt was soaking wet, skin sticky, but you didn’t care. He was alive, he was going to be fine. 

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you said against his skin, letting yourself cry. He held you tight, rubbing circles on your back. It took a few minutes for it to die down, pulling back just to have him wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. You should probably head home. I’ll pick the car up tomorrow.” There was no way of hiding the look of confusion and hurt on your face. He’d just survived almost dying, and now he was kicking you out? 

“I want to stay with you.” He shook his head no. “Why not?”

“When vampires almost die or get hurt, we need to feed. And I vaguely remember finishing up our stash in the basement. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

That made you understand. He just wanted you safe, but that wasn’t enough. Because he was just going to end up hurting someone else. You couldn’t let him do that. 

“Damon, I trust you.” That got you his usual confused look, eyes squinting in curiosity. “You’re just going to end up going out there and hurting someone else. I trust you won’t kill me though.” You offered him your wrist. 

“Y/N, I can’t,” he insisted, leaning away. 

“Yes you can. I trust you. I would trust you with my life. Now, you need to feed. You have someone here who is willing to let you do so. No strings attached.” He didn’t move, staying where he was. “Damon, please.”

He took your arm, bringing your wrist to his mouth. He didn’t bite though, kissing the inside of your wrist. Your free hand combed through his hair. That was until he did bite down, grimacing in pain as his fangs tore through your skin. It didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would, but it was an odd feeling. As if you’d cut yourself, but the blood never reached your hand, fingers going numb. You continued to comb through his hair with your free hand, assuring him it was okay. Until it wasn’t. 

“Damon,” you said softly, trying to get his attention. “Damon, stop. Stop.” He didn’t though, feeling lightheaded as he continued on. “Enough, Damon. Please.” You pulled at his hair, which was enough to finally get his attention. He pulled away, face going back to normal. You were still lightheaded, but knew it would go away. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you, getting up and walking into the bathroom. You would have followed him, had you thought you’d be able to make it. He came back a minute later with a first aid kit. 

“It’s okay. I told you I trusted you. I still do,” you assured him as he bandaged your wrist. There was something about his silence that spoke volumes about how he felt. Damon wasn’t one to just not say anything, always having an opinion or something to stay. “I don’t want you feeling bad, okay? I offered. I told you I trust you. And I still love you.” 

“I’m going to get changed.” You didn’t think Damon felt guilt, or really anything. But his reaction changed that perception of him. He put on the tough guy persona, but he did feel underneath it all. While he was gone, you slipped out of your jeans, not wanting to get up to put pajama pants on. 

When he came back in, he was in his boxers. You couldn’t help but take the sight in, defined muscles, flawless skin, abs. He really was like a living marble statue, and he was there with you. 

“I’d understand if you wanted to stay in the guestroom tonight,” he said softly, standing at the end of the bed, fidgeting with his ring. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I almost lost you today. Everything that I said, everything that I feel is true. And me staying right here with you is the first step of proving it to you. I can tell you don’t trust easily, Dae. But I need you to trust me just like I trust you. Now come to bed,” you insisted.

It took another minute for him to move to lay down with you. The two of you laid on your sides, facing each other. You couldn’t help but cup his cheek with your hand, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. He held your waist, thumb sliding under your shirt, pressing against your skin. 

“I love you, Damon,” you assured him again, looking into his eyes.

It was something you’d told people before, but you’d never meant it more than in that moment. 

-----

You woke to the sun shining through the curtains, warm on your skin. You almost didn’t want to open your eyes, until you felt someone laying next to you, the memories of the previous day rushing back. You didn’t move as you felt his fingers trace your face, light as a feather. This was your new happy place. 

“Morning,” he said softly as the corners of your lips pulled into a small, relaxed smile. When you opened your eyes, you were taken away by the sight. His usually very tame hair was in loose curls. The dark circles under his eyes long gone. He looked like his usually cocky self, in boxers. 

“I could get used to waking up like this, with you.” He smiled as you moved closer to him, pressing against his chest. 

“There’s still so much you don’t know, Y/N.” You cut him off with a kiss before he could say anything else. 

“You can tell me all of it later, okay? But right now, I just want to enjoy laying here in bed with a still very alive you,” you told him before kissing him again. You knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, at least not that day. You could tell he was hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual very self assured behavior. “Okay, what’s on your mind?” You sat up, back against the headboard as you looked at him. He wasn’t going to relax until you let him talk.

“I could have killed you last night,” he finally said. You were about to say something when he shook his head, silencing you. “I know I didn’t, but I could have. I don’t know what I would do if I ever hurt you. No amount of trust, no amount of…”

“I don’t want you carrying that guilt, that fear. I trusted you from the time I met you at the counsel meeting. Why else would I have come here to confront you about it?” 

“If you trusted me, why keep me out of your house for six months? You’d even said it yourself the first day we had lunch that you didn’t trust me yet,” he reminded you, which caused you to sigh. 

“I did trust you, but I was still trying to find a reason not to. I was scared, thinking that maybe I was going to end up like my parents. Dead. I trusted you, and that idea scared me at the time,” you countered, trying to make him understand. “I trust you with my life, Damon.”

He smiled, toying with your bracelet. “I could take this off, make you forget everything. You’d be safe.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, scared that he might. “I haven’t had a family since I was a teenager. Then, when I left, I never stayed in one place long enough to make a home. I never found the right place. You’re both of those.”

“I’m too selfish to do that,” he sighed, letting go of the bracelet. “I haven’t loved someone in a very long time, and I forgot how good it felt.”

“Stefan told me he hasn’t seen you this happy since 1864,” you admitted. “You mentioned her. I’m not sure if you were hallucinating or not.”

“I don’t want to talk about Katherine right now. Because she’s not here. You are.” 

That made you smile, hoping it was a good sign that he was choosing being with you over talking about his dead vampire ex. You just leaned your head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. 

“Vampire blood heals humans,” he said after a few minutes of just enjoying being there with him. 

“I know. And you won’t do anything if something happens to me, Damon. Because as much as I love you, I don’t want that existence,” you told him, not getting an answer in response. You could tell he didn’t like that, but didn’t bring it up again. “I should get home. As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to go back to work tonight.” 

“I’ll drive you home.” 

The two of you got up, getting dressed. You were still a little woozy from the night before, but not as bad. Sleep had definitely helped. By the time you’d finished getting dressed, Damon was leaning against the bathroom door frame watching you which got you to smile, walking over to him to kiss him. This was something you could get used to.

-----

“Mason,” you said with a smile as you sat across from him at a table at The Grill, sliding a glass of scotch to him. “You’ve been in town for two months, and you have yet to stop by and say hi.” 

You hated him with every fiber in your being for almost killing Damon. Damon, who had given up on his warpath to kill the werewolf after much pleading with him since nobody knew how to get more of the cure. You’d convinced him it wasn’t worth it, that you’d make sure Mason kept his mouth shut. 

“I’ve been keeping busy. Plus, I didn’t realize you were back in town considering you jumped ship right after you graduated,” he answered, mirroring your smile. 

“Tell me, what brought you back? Weren’t you enjoying your time in Florida?” You drank from your own glass, hoping it would make him more comfortable. 

“Time of my life, but Richard called saying he needed some help with Tyler. He’s been going through a rough time since Sarah died.” You remembered that. A freak accident where Sarah fell down the stairs at the Lockwood house one night when Tyler’s parents were out of town. You’d been the first on scene, trying to comfort Tyler -- who was freaking out.

“You mean because Tyler triggered the curse, and Richard hasn’t?” you asked, Mason shooting you a shocked and angry look. “I’m in the loop about a lot of things, Mason.”

“So you know about the Salvatores? How’s Damon doing? Haven’t seen him around.” You chuckled at first before he mentioned Damon, your face dropping as you finished off your drink. 

“Damon’s alive no thanks to you, Mason. Whatever pissing match you two had, or are still having, it’s over. You’re going to keep your mouth shut and so is Damon, got it?” He nodded, taking a drink from the glass you’d slid his way, quickly spitting it out. You didn’t say anything as you stood up, walking out and to your car.

You hated it. Mason had been one of your closest friends growing up, and now it came down to this. As much as you cared about your friend, neither of you were the same as you were in high school. You’d both changed too much. And you were always going to take Damon’s side, because you loved him.

The drive to the Salvatore Boarding House was a quiet one, not even knowing if Damon was going to be home. You just needed to see him, wanted to see him. Your entire life, everyone that you’d cared about had left you in one way or another. Seeing Mason, confronting Mason just confirmed that for you. You had no friends from your old life. Instead, you’d made new ones. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You parked in the drive, about to get out of the car when it all came crashing down around you. You’d worked so hard to build a new life, to try and be happy, but you weren’t. You felt stuck. Sure, you loved your job, loved working with Liz, loved being in love with Damon. But for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you’d gone back to Mystic Falls in the first place. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the car.

The car door opened as you cried, chest tight. Strong arms pulled you close to a warm body, breathing in his scent as you clutched his shirt. He didn’t say anything, letting you cry, letting you grieve. When your sobs finally died down, you couldn’t let him go.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, kissing your temple. “Let’s go inside and talk.” You nodded, letting him help you out of the car, leaning into him as the two of you walked up to his room. 

“I saw Mason today,” you told him. “He’s not the same person I knew, Damon.”

“Is that why you were in your car crying?” You shook your head before sighing, wiping away newly forming tears. 

“I mean partly. Damon, this isn’t what I was expecting my life to be.” He sat down next to you, holding you against him. “My parents are supposed to be alive. I was supposed to go to college, to create an amazing life. But now, Mystic Falls seems far from home.”

“Let’s take a trip, just for a weekend. Let’s get your mind off all of this,” he said, motioning around. “Clear your mind.”

“I have a better idea to clear my mind,” you suggested, turning to kiss him, one hand on his cheek, the other hand on the back of his neck. You could feel him smiling against your lips as the two of you kissed. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, quickly moving to straddle him. His hands were on your lower back, sliding up the back of your shirt, palms pressed against your skin to pull you closer to him. 

“Y/N,” he sighed against your lips as your hips moved against his. 

This was what you wanted. Despite the sadness you felt, Damon made you feel like you mattered, like you belonged somewhere. You pulled back only to pull his shirt off him, lips back on his before the fabric even hit the floor.

The two of you fit, like he was a missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was your life. Mason didn’t fit anymore, you’re parents' pieces missing since they died. 

“Tell me what you want, and you can have it,” Damon said as he kissed down your neck, ravishing you, not taking his time at all. 

“Make me forget,” you answered before he flipped the two of you over. He took the opportunity to get your shirt off before attaching his lips to your skin again. And make you forget he did. 

-----

“Rick conned me into helping him chaperone for the decades dance tomorrow,” Damon told you as the two of you cuddled on your couch. “Want to be my plus one?”

“Which decade?” You weren’t going to tell him no, but you were going to make him think that you were debating it before agreeing. You relaxed further into him -- if that was even possible -- as he traced an invisible pattern on your side. 

“Seventies.” You hummed for a minute before looking up at him with a smile. 

“I guess, if you insist.” He smiled back, kissing you softly. “But tell me, what were you up to in the seventies?” 

“Well, in the seventies, I was in New York. It was a very bad time for me. A lot of parties, a lot of drugs, a lot of people,” he answered, and you could tell he didn’t want to answer. 

“Whatever you’ve done in the past, I can’t hold it against you. I won’t. Okay?” you reminded him with an assuring smile. He just nodded, holding you a little tighter. 

“We have the option to turn off our humanity. It stops us from being able to feel whatever we’re feeling. Usually it’s pain and grief that pushes us to that point. Pretty much from 1958 to the early 2000s, that’s what I was doing. I didn’t care who I hurt. The seventies weren’t a pretty time for me,” he continued. You could tell it bothered him, but not enough to not talk about it. 

The next day, you told Damon you’d meet him at the high school. You were running late, so you shot him a quick text to let him know you were on your way. When you got there, you had to scan through the crowd of hormonal teenagers to find him standing with Alaric at the punch table. How ironic it was that your alcoholic boyfriend was supposed to be making sure nobody spiked the punchbowl. 

“Wassup, foxy mama,” Damon called out as you approached. 

“Careful, casanova,” you replied, stopping him from kissing you as you got to his side. “Children are present.” That got Alaric to laugh, kissing Damon on the cheek instead. 

“You two look good together,” Alaric told you both. You appreciated the compliment, knowing that he was really Damon’s only other friend. 

“Thanks, Rick. You need to come over for dinner some time. We could all use a little bonding,” you suggested as Damon’s arm snaked around your waist.

The night droned on, making idle conversation with Damon and Rick. You and Damon were nearly inseparable except for when you needed a human moment or two, or to break up some shenanigans the highschoolers were getting up to. 

“Think I can have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand as Make it With You began playing. You smiled, shaking your head, but taking his hand, letting him pull you to the edge of the gym. 

“We need to talk, Y/N,” he told you. “About why you don’t want me saving you.”

“We will. When we go home, okay?” He nodded, the two of you finishing the dance with your head resting on his chest. 

The two of you typically rotated whose house you’d stay at each night, but this time he’d suggested your place. It made you wonder how serious of a conversation this was going to be. Especially since he’d suggested having this discussion in the living room, and not trying to sweep you off your feet to the bedroom as soon as you stepped through the door. 

“Damon, as much as I want to spend eternity with you...I can’t risk it. I just...I want to see my parents again,” you told him, knowing where this was going.

“So, you want me to stand idly by and watch you die is what you’re telling me. You don’t want me to save you, even if it doesn’t change you. Am I not worth it, Y/N?” he asked, leaning against the fireplace. 

“You are everything to me, Damon.” It broke your heart that he thought he wasn’t enough. He was more than enough, but the thought of living forever...even if it was with Damon. It wasn’t enough. “But your life...I don’t want that for me. I want to live like a normal human being. I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to experience everything humanity has to offer. And being magically saved by my vampire boyfriend every time I get hurt? That isn’t my idea of life.”

Damon had tells, but he was hiding them so well. Until you saw him swallow hard, looking like he wanted to break something. 

“So, I’m enough...Until it comes to experiencing everything humanity has to offer. There are things I can’t give you, Y/N!” he reminded you. “Because experiencing humanity means getting married, having children, growing old together, dying! I can give you only one of those things, and it’s the one that means the least. And if something were to happen to you? Today, tomorrow, next week, next year. I won’t be able to handle saying goodbye. Because I’m selfish!” 

“I know you are, Damon.” You stood up, walking over to him. He didn’t move a muscle, looking at you with icy blue eyes as you held his face in your hands. “I know you’re selfish. But so am I. But I know you’ll be able to live without me.”

“How?” That’s when he let the facade drop, face soft, eyes sad. 

“Because you’ve lived this long without me. I’m going to be just a blip in your existence. In ten, twenty years after I’m gone, you’ll find somebody else that makes you feel this way. There’s not just one soulmate for everybody. Katherine, me...There will be others.” He just shook his head.

“I don’t want there to be others, Y/N. I want you.” You kissed him softly.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything if something happens to me,” you requested, getting a nod in response. You didn’t know if you were going to believe him, but for now you were going to. 

-----

“Damon, can I just go take a bath in that nice bathtub of yours and take a nap?” you whined, hands on your knees as you bent over to catch your breath. He’d been training you on how to protect yourself from vampires if the need ever arose. A water bottle was placed in front of your face, quickly grabbing it from Damon and taking a drink.

“We’ve been out here for less than an hour, Y/N. Humor me a little, for my own peace of mind.” You huffed, setting the bottle down, going back to running drills. Occasionally you’d try to trick him into letting you go early, but it never worked. He’d kept you at it for three hours before you called it quits, saying you needed food. 

“Why is this so important to you?” you asked him as you ate the sandwich he’d made you. 

“Well, if you won’t let me save you, at least I know you tried to save yourself,” he answered, drinking from the blood bag in his hands. “There’s one more thing to teach you, after you eat.” You nodded as he headed upstairs. 

You knew he was just trying to make himself feel better. From your conversations with Stefan, you knew this was the tame version of Damon. When he was upset, he usually lashed out, pushed people away. Stefan had never seen him hold someone closer. 

When you were done, you’d meandered your way to Damon’s bedroom, hearing the shower going. You smirked, a dirty thought in your mind. Might as well follow it, seeing as you told Damon you wanted to experience everything humanity had to offer. Stripping down, you joined him in the shower.

“Saving water?” he asked as the shower door shut behind you.

“Something like that.” Both of you couldn’t help but smile, Damon pulling you close, making sure your hand came to rest on his chest. His hair was wet, sticking to his forehead. But you were too focused on his eyes, always his eyes. 

“This is the sternum,” he told you. “Trying to attack here will just piss a vampire off.” He moved your hand slightly to the right, over his heart. “This is where you want to go if you’re coming from the front. You have the chance of hitting a rib, but even if you do, the likelihood of you hitting the heart is still high. The best place though.” He spun you around, making sure you didn’t fall. His hand came to rest just below the left side of your rib cage, just next to your spine. “Here and up.” 

“Aren’t you worried? I mean, you’re teaching a Gilbert, someone who had her parents killed by vampires, the secrets to killing one?” you asked, breathless as he pressed against you. 

“I trust you.”

-----

“Damon,” you said over the phone. You hated that you had to make this call, the mechanical beeping of the EKG hurting your ears. Everything hurt, and all you wanted was for Damon to be there.

“Hey, you didn’t show up for lunch. Started to get worried,” he told you. You could hear the concern in his voice over the phone. “You alright?”

“I don’t want you to freak out.”

“By you telling me not to freak out, I’m starting to freak out,” he warned you.

“I got into a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” Before you could say anything else, you heard him hang up, sighing as you knew he was freaking out. You knew it was only a matter of time before he stormed in, so you decided a quick power nap was in the cards. You were exhausted.

“Y/N,” you heard through the fog of sleep, a pressure on your hand. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Damon,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to see his gorgeous face in front of you, a goofy grin on your face.

“They have you on some good drugs, don’t they,” he said, mostly to himself as he pushed your hair out of your face. You just nodded, squeezing his hand. “What happened?”

“I got t-boned in the square by some idiot drunk,” you answered. “Few broken ribs, broken humerus, tore my knee.” He nodded, a look of pain on his face. “I’ll be fine. No worries. I’ll just need some help for eight to twelve weeks.”

“I could help you,” he offered. You just shook your head, not wanting that. It was too risky for you. “I know. Figured I’d just remind you.”

“Whose house are we staying at for the next few months?” He just shrugged, and you figured you guys would decide that later.  "What's going through your head, Dae?"

"I just really hate hospitals. And I hate seeing you in one even more,” he answered, holding your hand up to his lips, kissing your skin softly. 

“Well, they’re sending me home tomorrow. So you only have to deal with the hospital for a day.” That got him to smile and relax a little. “If you’re not careful, all that frowning is going to give you wrinkles.” 

“Frowning? What frowning?” He kept the small smile on his face to prove a point, getting you to kiss him. “Scoot over.” 

Damon had his dark moments, his angry moments. But he also had moments like these, the sweet ones. He wasn’t a monster like he thought he was, he wasn’t selfish. He cared to a fault. His heart was his weakness, and you’d managed to hold it in your hands. Much like he held you close, careful not to jostle your arm or leg.  

"I love you," you told him, half asleep. He just kissed your forehead and let you fall into a deep sleep. 

-----

You woke up to the sound of your alarm going off, dreading getting up. But this was different. You had a test that you didn’t want to take, one that you hadn’t studied for. Sitting up, you stretched as the sun shone in your eyes through the window. 

“Y/N!” your mom yelled from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready!”

“I’m getting dressed! I’ll be done in a minute, Mom,” you replied, grabbing a pair of skinny jeans and your favorite shirt. You bounded down the stairs, your mom standing in the kitchen and your dad already sitting at the table reading the paper like he did every morning. For some reason, you felt sad, as if you missed this.

“You seemed happy,” Damon told you as he stood from the couch. 

“This is a dream?” you asked, wanting it to be real. Damon nodded, as you focused on your parents and not him. “I miss them so much.” 

“Then go be with them, Y/N. This is your dream.” You nodded, kissing him before going about your morning routine with them. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream, but it was the first time Damon showed up. It was curious. 

-----

“I had the greatest dream,” you told him when you woke up the next morning. 

“I know.” You were confused. Was that why he had shown up? Had he gotten into your head somehow. “I didn’t mean to invade. I just...I wanted to make sure you were really okay.” 

“It’s okay. It was just...unusual that you were there. That’s all,” you assured him, kissing him softly.

“Well, you’re all good to go,” Doctor Fell told you as she walked in the room, looking between you and Damon. “I see your ride is already here. Just no strenuous activities. Try to stay off your feet since you can’t use crutches yet. And follow up with the orthopedic surgeon who will track your progress for your arm and leg. Do you have any questions?”

“I think we’ll be able to figure it out,” Damon answered for you. Doctor Fell nodded, leaving the room after leaving your paperwork on the table. It took a few minutes for you and Damon to figure out how to get you dressed with your cast and knee immobilizer, but you managed. 

“Damon the wheelchair isn’t necessary,” you whined as he sat you down. 

“Yes it is, at least to get you to the car. You heard the doc, got to keep you off your feet as much as possible.”

“She also said no strenuous activity, but I have a feeling you won’t be listening to that once we get home,” you countered, Damon glaring at you as you looked up at him with a smirk. He wheeled you out to the car, helping you in as carefully as he could. But it was difficult seeing as he drove a sports car. Plus, he couldn’t drive your car since it was definitely totaled from the car accident. 

“Can we stay at my place?” you asked Damon softly once he got in. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time at his place, but you just felt safer at home. He and Stefan were the only vampires you’d invited in. And you couldn’t protect yourself, knowing you had to rely solely on Damon for the next couple of months. 

“Of course.” He reached across to hold your hand gently, not wanting to hurt you. 

The drive to your house was a silent one, neither of you really speaking to each other. It was a comfortable silence, though. It wasn’t uncommon to have silent car rides with Damon, just enjoying each other’s company. It was nice. You didn’t realize you’d dozed off until you woke up to him carrying you up your front porch steps, your good arm around his neck while you cradled your bad one to your chest.  

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he carried you through the threshold and up the stairs to your bedroom. You just hummed in agreement, letting your eyes drift shut again. 

The next time you woke up was in pain. Not as bad as when you’d first crashed your car, but pretty bad. Your entire body ached, head pounding. The doctors said it was normal and to be expected. That didn’t make it any better though. It definitely didn’t help that Damon wasn’t there. Sitting up with a groan, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Damon!” you called out, knowing you couldn’t get up. It was physically impossible. 

It took a minute before he showed up in your room in one of his t-shirts and pajama pants. You smiled, loving seeing him somewhat relaxed. You could still tell he was carrying some weight of something on his shoulders. 

“Can you bring me some of my painkillers? And then come to bed?” you asked him, Damon holding up the pill bottles and water glass as if he’d read your mind. You rubbed your face again as Damon sat next to you, the bed dipping underneath him. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked him before popping the pills, quickly chasing them with water. 

“I ask myself that question all the time,” he replied as you leaned over to kiss him. 

-----

It had been a long twelve weeks, wanting to tear his head off at times. Occasionally, he’d leave to get some air when things started getting tense. Each time, he came back when you called. You were both thrilled when you were given the all clear to get around on your own. It was odd though, being home alone. You’d gotten used to his company. But both of you were stubborn, both of you having what you considered ‘home’ even when being with each other felt even more right. You couldn’t give up your family home, and he loved the freedom he had at his. 

So, things went back to normal. The two of you would rotate where you stayed, partly dependent on Stefan and when he was going to be home. Lexi had stuck around after saving Damon, and you could tell she was good for Stefan. 

Things were just still...off with Damon. You really couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t figure him out. You’d tried talking, but Damon wasn’t in a talking kind of mood every time you tried. It was frustrating. You’d even tried getting Rick to get him to talk, but with no luck, so the two of you had come up with a plan. Which is how you ended up sitting on the couch in front of a burning fireplace with a bottle of wine in your hand as you waited for Damon to get home. You knew it would take a while for Rick to get Damon drunk, so you sat back and relaxed. 

“Funny seeing you here!” he sing-songed from the foyer. “I thought you had work tonight.” You heard him stumble, knocking something over that sounded pretty expensive. Everything in his house was expensive. 

“I lied,” you answered, turning to see him stumbling towards his alcohol display, pouring himself another drink. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“No because I have a bad feeling about why you’re here,” he answered with a laugh, not looking at you. You couldn’t help but scoff. That got him to look at you. “What?”

“Whatever has been weighing on you for the past few months, whatever you’ve kept bottled up. Talk to me,” you told him. The smile dropped as he shook his head, downing the drink in one go. 

“Is that why Rick suggested tonight? You behind all this?” 

“Guilty as charged. Now, Damon. Talk to me.” 

You could tell he wasn’t going to talk, the brooding look plastered on his face. There was no way you were taking ‘no’ for an answer this time. Definitely not this time. 

“Damon. I swear to god. I can tell something has been bothering you for a while. And I haven't pushed it much. Until now. Because it’s bothering me that something is bothering you. And I have a feeling it’s about me,” you finally said, getting him to look at you. “This is me telling you. Whatever is bothering you, we need to talk about. Or this-” You pointed between the two of you, closing the distance between the two of you, “isn’t going to work.”

His jaw clenched as your palm rested on his chest. You heard the glass shatter in his hand, hearing the pieces of glass hit the floor as he opened his bleeding hand. You knew he would heal quickly, not worried. 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he finally said, breaking the tense silence. Your heart dropped, not wanting to believe what he just said. 

“Dam-” He didn’t let you finish, taking a step back. 

“No, Y/N. You can’t make it better!” he told you. “You and me, this puts you in danger. Just being near me is dangerous. And you are all too human.” 

“So, that’s what this is about? My vulnerability?” He didn’t answer, and you couldn’t help but scoff again. 

“What’s with all the?” He mimicked your scoffing noise. 

“Because we’ve been over this, Damon! It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because I love you.” You didn’t want to believe you were having this conversation again, but it was obviously something that had to be talked about. 

“I want to say the same, Y/N, but for once I’m being selfless. Or maybe I’m still selfish. I’m not sure which. Because everything in me wants to keep you by my side! Everything in me says to never let you go!” You could see the look of pain on his face, his bottom lip quivering. “But I have to let you go. I almost lost you, Y/N. And I had to be there every step of the way, helping you get better. Because you’re stubborn.” He let out a small chuckle at that. “You’re so strong willed. Despite having a fix it all cure literally right in front of you, you decided to take the human way through things.” 

“What are you saying, Damon?” You didn’t want to believe what he was saying. His hand held your wrist before snatching your vervain bracelet, hissing in pain as he dropped it on the floor. You went to grab it, but he kept a hold of you. “Damon, what are you doing?”

“I want you to live a long and happy life, Y/N,” he told you. “And you can’t do that with me.” Tears burned your eyes, knowing what he was doing. 

“Damon, don’t. Please, Damon,” you begged, but he just gave you a sad smile. 

“You’re going to forget we were together,” he told you, your eyes captivated by his. “You’re going to leave here, thinking we decided to break up. If anybody asks, you’re going to say it’s for the best. We’re going to be friends again, just friends. You’ll be able to think back on our relationship and not be sad.” His voice cracked as he nodded. “You’re going to be happier without me, Y/N. You’re going to find a nice human boy who is going to be right for you. And you’re going to fill in love. And you’re gonna love him more than me. And you’re going to forget this conversation, forget I took your bracelet off. You’re going to be fine.” 

As much as you didn’t want to listen, every fiber in your being telling you to listen to him instead. When he looked away, that’s what you thought was the truth. Your bracelet back on your wrist before you even realized it was gone.  

“I have to go home, Damon. Lunch on Wednesday?” He just nodded as you walked out of the door. 

-----

You had gone on several dates since breaking up with Damon. The two of you still had weekly lunches, and he seemed more than okay. Occasionally, you’d see him flirting with other women. But for some reason it didn’t bother you. You weren’t exactly sure why. You thought seeing him with other people would hurt more, but it didn’t. 

And then you met a nice guy. Something inside you was drawn to him, and all you wanted was to be around him. Call it fate or love, you weren’t sure. Damon took it better than you thought he would when you introduced your new boyfriend, Klaus. There was something simmering under the surface, though. Maybe Damon wasn’t as happy with it as he tried to make it seem, though you didn’t question it.  

“Klaus suggested you come over tonight for dinner,” you told Damon over the phone when you called him. Klaus was laying next to you, fingers tracing patterns on your side, getting you to giggle. 

“Sure, I’ll be over at six,” he agreed, quickly hanging up. You rolled over to look at Klaus, his blue eyes staring into yours. They weren’t as piercing as Damon’s were, but you still were caught up in them. 

“Good job, darling,” he cooed. “Now, where were we?” His lips pressed against yours, rolling on top of you with a smile.

-----

You’d gotten dressed in the dress Klaus had laid out for you, a nice black dress. It wasn’t too formal for a friend dinner, but just formal enough to make you feel sexy. He’d also set out a set of thick bracelets for you to wear to cover the bite marks -- the ones you didn’t know he’d compelled you to forget about how you got them.

“Darling, Damon is here!” Klaus called from the kitchen. You just put on a smile, clasping the bracelet before going downstairs. Klaus made you happy, it just felt right. When you saw Damon you gave him a hug with a smile before going over to Klaus who gave you a quick kiss. “So, what’s with the impromptu dinner party?” Damon asked, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. 

“Well, Klaus wanted to get to know you better, Damon. I mean, you are my best friend, and he’s my boyfriend.” Damon rolled his eyes, but sat at the table anyway. He watched the two of you move around the kitchen, watching you be happy with Klaus. 

“What happened to your wrist?” Damon asked when your bracelet slid up your arm when you reached for the plates in the cabinet. 

“Cut myself on some broken glass. It’s nothing,” you assured him. You saw the disbelief on his face, looking between you and Klaus. 

“So, Y/N tells me you know Katherine Pierce,” Klaus said, speaking to your best friend for the first time. “I know her too.”

“Wait, how do you know Katherine?” you asked, confused. There was no possible way Klaus knew Katherine. She’d been dead since 1864. 

“I knew her before she was Katherine Pierce. Back when she was Katerina Petrova. Back when she ripped my family from me,” Klaus answered. You looked between him and Damon as the latter stood up slowly. You still didn’t understand. “Damon, did you notice something missing from your best friend?” 

“Y/N, where’s your vervain bracelet?” he asked. Your brows furrowed as you looked at your wrists, not seeing it. “Run.”

“Ah-ah,” Klaus ticked, your legs not moving. As much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. And that was terrifying.

“What do you want, Klaus?” Damon asked, anger evident on his face. “Or is that even your name?”

“No, Klaus is my name. Where is Katerina Petrova?” Klaus handed you a knife, and you weren’t sure why you took it. You knew you had to. 

“Kiss my ass,” Damon growled, eyes dark as he scowled. 

“That’s not a good answer. Darling,” Klaus said, getting your attention to look at him. When your eyes met, he spoke. “You’re going to stab yourself in the abdomen now, just like we talked about.” 

“No!” Damon said, rushing towards you as the blade plunged into your flesh, a scream ripping through your throat. You fell to your knees, blood already seeping from around the blade and covering your hands. Klaus stepped to the side as Damon joined you on the floor. “No, no, no,” he kept repeating, your face going pale.

“Dae,” you whimpered as he pulled the knife out, the blood coming out faster. You fell into his chest, his hands becoming covered with our blood. “You’ll be okay,” you assured him, hand reaching up to cup his cheek, smearing your blood on his perfect face. 

“Screw that,” he growled, biting open his wrist before pressing it to your lips. You resisted, not wanting to risk it. But you felt his blood running down your throat. “You’re the one who’s going to be okay.” 

You felt him lay you on the ground, lightheaded. You knew what he’d just done, the one thing you told him never to do. But here you were, wounds healing because Damon saved you. And you could hear your ex and your soon to be ex fighting in your house, breaking god knows what. You knew you heard a chair break, and you were stuck staring at the ceiling as your breathing evened out. 

“Sorry to tell you,” you heard Damon groan, sounding like he was probably being choked. “Katherine died in 1864.” 

“Well then, you’re no longer useful. And since you’re no longer useful, she’s no longer useful,” Klaus replied, Damon groaning again. 

“I swear to god if you hurt her, I will kill you,” your friend growled. You heard bones break, and nothing else from Damon. The next thing you knew, Klaus was looking over you. 

“I could kill you. Or…” The world went black.

-----

The first thing you noticed when consciousness started to come back was the pain in your neck. It was a deep ache, like when you broke your arm. The next thing you realized was that you weren’t on the ground like you remembered. You were in a soft bed, no longer in the dress, but in pajamas. The last thing you noticed was the deep hunger inside of you, one that you didn’t want. It was the one thing you didn’t want. 

When you opened your eyes, it wasn’t your house. It was Damon’s guest room - the one you’d only seen once before. The night before in the back of your mind, slowly coming through. You’d stabbed yourself because Klaus had compelled you. Klaus, your boyfriend. Klaus, the vampire. How did you fall for another vampire? How did he trick you into falling for him? Or maybe it was just you. Maybe that’s just the girl you were, the one who fell for the undead. 

“You’re awake,” Damon said softly. When you opened your eyes, he was sitting on the side of the bed, looking at you. When you saw him, it was like a fire inside of you started all over again, one that had never left. It felt like it was going to consume you. Overwhelmingly so. “How are you feeling?” 

Then the world came crashing back down. You were supposed to be dead. And you weren’t. You’d died. And then Damon had saved you. And then Klaus had killed you again. Which meant…

“Is that a trick question, Damon?” you asked, sitting up. “What happens now?”

“There’s two options. You either drink blood and finish your transformation. Or you don’t and you die for good.” You nodded, not sure what you wanted. You were angry and upset. You weren’t supposed to be alive. Damon did the one thing you were the most adamant about. “What’s going through your head?”

“A lot. Damon, a lot.” You stood up, stretching out your neck. “There’s a lot of conflict in my head. I’m angry, and upset, and those are the first things in my head because if I focus on anything else, I feel like I’m going to...I don’t know.” 

“Being a vampire makes everything heightened. All those feelings, all those emotions are on overdrive. Especially if you haven’t completed your transformation.” That made you snap. All of that anger bubbling inside of you.

“I wouldn’t be dealing with these emotions if you hadn’t saved me, Damon! This isn’t what I wanted and you knew that!” Tears filled your eyes, hand raking through your hair. 

“Yes, Y/N, I know,” he said softly, looking at you with those eyes. “But Klaus couldn’t win.”

“No, don’t bring Klaus into this, Damon! This is about you! This is about you being too selfish to just let me have what I wanted!” With each word, you stepped closer to him until you were nearly nose to nose. “I didn’t want this, Damon!”

“I know you didn’t.” His hand reached out to push your hair out of your face. “And I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But had I waited, you would have died. Because of him, because of me. I tried...I tried to keep you safe.”

“Why, Damon? Why not just let me die like I wanted?” you asked. 

“Because I still love you.” You didn’t know how to react, especially as his lips were on yours. It was as if every spot he touched was sparking with electricity, like you were a candle that he was trying to light with every touch. You couldn’t help but whine as he pulled away. “And you need to make a decision, Y/N. Because you don’t have a lot of time.”

“I don’t know, Damon.” You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping his shirt. 

“You know I want you to do it, want to keep you around forever.” The back of his hand caressed your cheek. Again, you couldn’t tear your eyes off his, but this was different. It was like you would do anything to make him happy. 

“I want to do it,” you nodded. He nodded with you before the two of you walking down to the basement to get a blood bag for you. 

“Are you sure?” he asked again as he opened the bag. You could feel the pain in your gums, causing you to groan in pain as your hand came up to your mouth, feeling the fangs protruding. 

“I’m sure.” You grabbed the bag out of his hands, quickly sucking it empty, blood on the corners of your mouth. You smiled, dropping the bag in the trash. “That was good.” 

“Good. In time, I can teach you how to feed, how to control the urges,” he assured you. “But we need to get you a daylight ring, which might take some time to find a witch to do it who knows how to do it.” 

“What ever are we going to do until then?” You smirked, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about breaking me,” you then reminded him before crashing your lips against his, backing him up against the wall. 

You couldn’t help it, Damon was just so irresistible. And it felt so right. Before you knew it, he’d lifted you up, your legs on his waist as he carried you upstairs -- all the way upstairs to his bedroom. Your hands were in his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp as his tongue invaded your mouth. This time, your back was pressed up against the wall, giving the two of you the leverage needed to grind your hips together. You could feel his erection against you. 

“Damon,” you moaned softly as his lips were against your neck, your jaw, your shoulder. His teeth grazed along your skin, marking you with hickies along the way. “Need you.” 

He pulled back to look at you with a smile before throwing you on the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him before he leaned down, lips against yours again. It was as if you had been stranded in a desert and he was the first drink you’d found. You needed him, craved him. There was no hesitation as you tore open his shirt, the buttons scattering on the floor. Your hands slid down his chest, down to the waist of his jeans. 

His hands, though, were not so tame compared to yours. You could feel one hand slide up your shirt, the other slipping down into your pajama pants. Your nails scratched down his chest, not realizing you drew blood until you felt the stickiness on your hands, but he didn’t stop. 

“Oh, god,” you moaned, skilled hands playing you like his own personal instrument. 

“I want to say the same, Y/N, but for once I’m being selfless. Or maybe I’m still selfish. I’m not sure which. Because everything in me wants to keep you by my side! Everything in me says to never let you go!” You could see the look of pain on his face, his bottom lip quivering. “But I have to let you go. I almost lost you, Y/N. And I had to be there every step of the way, helping you get better. Because you’re stubborn.” He let out a small chuckle at that. “You’re so strong willed. Despite having a fix it all cure literally right in front of you, you decided to take the human way through things.” 

“What are you saying, Damon?” You didn’t want to believe what he was saying. His hand held your wrist before snatching your vervain bracelet, hissing in pain as he dropped it on the floor. You went to grab it, but he kept a hold of you. “Damon, what are you doing?”

“I want you to live a long and happy life, Y/N,” he told you. “And you can’t do that with me.” Tears burned your eyes, knowing what he was doing. 

“Damon, don’t. Please, Damon,” you begged, but he just gave you a sad smile. 

“You’re going to forget we were together,” he told you, your eyes captivated by his. “You’re going to leave here, thinking we decided to break up. If anybody asks, you’re going to say it’s for the best. We’re going to be friends again, just friends. You’ll be able to think back on our relationship and not be sad.” His voice cracked as he nodded. “You’re going to be happier without me, Y/N. You’re going to find a nice human boy who is going to be right for you. And you’re going to fill in love. And you’re gonna love him more than me. And you’re going to forget this conversation, forget I took your bracelet off. You’re going to be fine.” 

As much as you didn’t want to listen, every fiber in your being telling you to listen to him instead. When he looked away, that’s what you thought was the truth. Your bracelet back on your wrist before you even realized it was gone.  

“I have to go home, Damon. Lunch on Wednesday?” He just nodded as you walked out of the door. 

“Oh. My. God,” you said again, this time, shoving him off you with anger as your breaths came faster, hands clutching your head. 

“What?” he asked, confused, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done. 

“What?” you repeated back. “What! Oh my, God, Damon!” 

You got up, pacing the room, not sure what to say. Damon just looked at you as if you had a second head. You couldn’t believe what he’d done, what he’d made you forget. You couldn’t believe what he’d made you forget, the feelings, the memories, the love. You couldn’t understand.  

“Talk to me,” he told you, using your own words against you. Which pissed you off even more. 

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Damon,” you growled. “I tried talking to you that night! I tried getting you to talk to me so we could work through it! I…” You violently shook your head, trying to wrap your head around it. “I trusted you, Damon! But I remember! I begged you not to. I. God Damon, you’re so selfish! As if I wouldn’t remember!” 

“Y/N, I can explain.” That got a vase thrown at his head, which he quickly ducked. 

“Damon, you don’t understand do you? How can you not fucking understand! If you hadn’t compelled a break-up! If you hadn’t compelled me to start moving on! I wouldn’t have met Klaus, Damon! I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t be this!” The anger quickly turned to grief, tears starting to drip down your face. 

All of the anger. All the frustration. All the hurt. It all shifted. Instead, it was grief and sadness as you dropped to your knees. You remembered the day you showed up at Damon’s house after confronting Mason. You’d felt so alone. And it was even worse now. You’d had one person in the world that was family. You had one person who you trusted more than anything. And now you had nothing. Sobs wracked through your body, tearing at the back of your throat. Your chest hurt. And he didn’t move to touch you. He didn't do anything besides stand there. He wasn’t saying any comforting words, he wasn’t pulling you in. Which made you feel even more alone.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted it all to stop. And then you remembered what he’d told you once. We have the option to turn off our humanity. It stops us from being able to feel whatever we’re feeling. Usually it’s pain and grief that pushes us to that point. The sobs died down as you looked up at him. 

“Y/N,” he said, realizing what was going on. “Don’t do this.” He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands as he looked at you. “Please don’t do this.”

“I said the same thing once,” you sniffled. “And you didn’t listen.” Your facial expression evened out as you flipped the switch. “So why would I?”

-----

It had been three days since you’d flipped your switch, packing a bag at your place. It wasn’t home. It hadn’t been home since your parents died. You couldn’t understand why you thought you could make it work, really. There was nothing left for you in Mystic Falls.

“Where are you going?” Damon asked you from the doorway of your bedroom. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Damon. You’re not in my life anymore. Remember?” you reminded him. 

“I’m not giving up on you that easily, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of that statement. 

“Oh, you gave up on me months ago, Damon. So I suggest you leave. Now.” Your meticulous packing turned into throwing clothes into a bag. The longer Damon was there, the more annoyed you were. That was the only thing you felt now, annoyance. And hunger. 

“If I had given up on you, I would have made you completely forget me,” he corrected with that smug smirk. 

“Either way, Damon. I’m done. I. Am. Done,” you growled, finishing packing your bag. You’d compel some movers to get the rest of your stuff later. You heard him walk up behind you, quickly turning around to face him. All you saw was a future you had wanted. You would have been more than willing to spend eternity with him, especially once you’d turned. And he had royally fucked it up. He had ruined you, to the point that your only option to try and function was to turn off whatever you felt for him. 

“Y/N.” You just shook your head. “I don’t care. I don’t care that you hate me. Because this. You and I are not a lost cause. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, to the end of time until you turn your humanity back on. Until the balance in the universe is restored.”

-----

Damon wasn’t lying. He followed you everywhere. Occasionally, you’d get away for a couple of years, but soon he found you. You got tired of running, though. It seemed like you were always running from his judgemental eyes. 

You’d found yourself at a club in downtown Chicago. It had been fifteen years of avoiding Damon like your life depended on it. It was fifteen years of starting over, of learning on your own because you would refuse his help every time he started lurking. You had just wanted away from him, but this...He definitely wasn’t lying. 

This club, though, was different. This one was run by a witch. She had it enchanted, or something. It was a safe haven for the supernatural, a place where you could just relax and enjoy your time. The vibrations of the music through the speakers flowed through you, making you feel alive. And whatever Y/BF/N put in your drink made you feel even more alive. You just closed your eyes and danced, without a care in the world. 

There was so much you had learned without Damon. And there was so much you still had to learn that you hadn’t even heard about. Even with your emotions off, even with your best witch friend more or less drugging you, Damon was in your head. 

You could feel somebody’s hands roaming your sides, very familiar hands. He pressed against your back, feeling his face in the crook of your neck, lips on your skin. It felt good, but even that didn’t erase the fact that it was Damon. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly, hand coming up to encourage his ministrations on your neck.

“Mmm,” he hummed, feeling the smile on your neck. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me, at that diner a few months ago in Denver,” you reminded him, eyes fluttering shut as he licked a stripe up your neck to your ear before nipping at your ear. Your other hand ran down his side, hooking your finger in his belt loop. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this, didn’t miss him. 

“I meant being this close to you,” he corrected. “Do you trust me?”

“Is that a trick question?” you countered before pressing against him even more. His hands moved from your side to your stomach, one sliding up your shirt. 

The next thing you knew, his teeth were in your neck, your breath catching in the back of your throat before moaning. Your eyes slipped close, that feeling of every fiber of your being being on fire coming back. It was dulled, but it was there. 

“Damon, we can’t do this,” you reminded him right before he spun you around to face him, your palm resting on his chest as you looked up at him. He was still the same, cocky Damon you remembered. 

“Yes, we can, Y/N. We can do anything, everything we want to. Just… turn it back on. Please.”

“Not here,” you replied, taking a step back and taking his hand. You knew he would follow you blindly anywhere. It had been fifteen years and you were ready to stop running. It was a lonely existence, even if you didn’t fully realize it. 

You took him back to your hotel room, not saying anything on the walk or on the elevator ride up. Had you compelled the penthouse suite? Definitely. You were used to the best, because of Damon.

“Why should I turn it back on?” you asked softly, staring out the window. You could see his reflection behind you, not touching you, but being close enough to feel his breath on your neck. 

“You’ve been running for fifteen years,” he reminded you, as if you didn’t already know that. “Don’t you want more out of your life? Aren’t you tired of it just being an existence? I know what it’s like to have it off for so long. It’s not going to be pretty, Y/N. But I will be there every step of the way.” 

“Again, why Damon? Give me one good reason. One. Just one,” you said again, almost pleading with him. You couldn’t look at him, not directly. Instead, you looked at his reflection mixed with the sea of the city.

“Because I still love you,” he finally said. “I couldn’t stop trying to save you. Because you are worth saving. Because I couldn’t go a single day knowing that I was the reason…” His chin rested on your shoulder as he finally looped an arm around your waist. “I couldn’t let you go. I…” You’d never seen Damon Salvatore at a loss for words. His cockiness and arrogance had all but faded. This was who he really was. A man so desperately in love that he would give up everything for you. 

“I want you to say it, Damon.” Your voice on the other hand was unwavering. 

“I’ve spent the past fifteen years regretting that night.” He sighed. “It was one of my weakest moments. I thought I was keeping you safe. I thought...I am sorry. I am sorry. Because of me, you are a vampire. I am reckless. And I am selfish. Except when it comes to you.”

“But that’s not true,” you corrected, not moving. “You are selfish even when it comes to me. Compelling me to forget was selfish because it kept me in your life. Saving me when Klaus made me stab myself? Selfish because it kept me in your life. Suggesting I complete the transition? Selfish. Following me for the past fifteen years? Do you see where I’m going with this?” He nodded, eyes closing as he took a deep breath. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked as your hand rested on his. You were debating if you should push him away or pull him closer. 

“You are the most selfish person I know, Damon Salvatore.” You pulled away, only to look at him. He looked like the same man as that you’d met fifteen years ago at the Founders Counsel. He was the same man that wormed his way into your heart all those years ago, but there was something different about him. “And I am not the same person I was.” 

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve seen you grow into an amazing person over the past fifteen years. You’ve evolved, you’ve changed. You’re more confident.” 

“Damon,” you said softly, hand reaching up to cup his cheek as it all came crashing down. Everything you’ve done over the past fifteen years. Everything you’ve tried not to feel. “When…” You choked out a sob as he pulled you to his chest. You clutched him close, like a child’s security blanket. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured you. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His fingers combed through your hair. 

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. It took you a minute before it all came crashing back down. You weren’t expecting to feel so...alone again. It was the reason you’d shut it all off in the first place. Until Damon walked through the door with breakfast in his hands. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said when he saw you were awake. “I would have ordered room service, but I wanted to feel nostalgic.” You understood what he meant, feeling like it was fifteen years ago all over again with Damon bringing you lunch and wine every Wednesday. If only it was a Wednesday. 

“I have to tell you something, Damon,” you said before he even had a chance to sit down. He just sighed.

“Can we just have breakfast first, and then we can continue our tour of humanity and feelings?” He pulled out two fresh blood bags, tossing you one. It wasn’t as glamorous as old times, but you figured you guys would probably have plenty of time. 

“I turned it off, Damon,” you reminded him as you began drinking. He just nodded, able to sense the sarcasm on his face. “Do you remember after Mason almost killed you, when you found me crying in my car?”

“Yeah. What about it?” He kicked off his shoes before sitting cross-legged next to you on the bed. 

“I told you Mystic Falls didn’t feel like home,” you continued, Damon nodding along. “You were the first thing that felt real in a long time. When I was with you...I didn’t feel alone anymore. You’ve had Stefan your entire life. I lost everyone years before I met you. Mason was one of my closest friends when I was in school, so when he tried to kill you it was like I had finally lost everyone I cared about. Except for you.” He had a pained look on his face, as if he knew where this was going. 

“And when I found out what you did.”

“That loneliness was magnified,” he finished for you, dropping his head before looking at you with those sad Damon eyes. 

“I loved you, Damon. With everything in my being. I would have walked to the ends of the Earth with you. And I felt like I had lost you that night, lost this idea that I had of you in my head.” You could tell saying you loved him in the past tense hurt him. 

“I’ve told you, I’m not the good guy,” he reminded you. You nodded, knowing that was true. 

“I didn’t want to feel lonely or hurt or angry anymore, so I decided not to. And then you spent fifteen years following me. I was just waiting for you to decide I wasn’t worth saving anymore. Maybe it would be one person too many. But you never gave up.”

“I couldn’t give up. I blamed myself every day. So I couldn’t give up until I knew that you were happy. Not numb, but actually happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.” 

“I was the happiest when I was with you. You made me feel like I belonged somewhere again.” 

“Until I didn’t,” he corrected, taking your empty blood bag, tossing it in the garbage can. “I can’t take back what I did, though I’ve wished every day that I could. I can only try and show you everyday how much I love you.” 

“Then show me, Damon,” you told him in a hushed voice. “Show me what I’ve been missing for the past fifteen years. Remind me what I’ve been missing.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his hand on your cheek, his lips on yours as he laid you back on the bed. There were plenty of times you and Damon were rough and passionate. This was different. You remembered the lazy mornings, the noon quickies, the passionate late nights. But there were a handful of times that it was like coming home. That it felt as easy as breathing. Like it was the rightest thing in the world. 

You remembered when you kissed him right after your transition. When it felt like electricity running through your skin, like every touch was going to set you on fire. It was something you had dreamt about, something you had only in your memories. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his thumb brushing the tears off your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again. Fifteen years of pent up feelings would do that to a girl. 

“I missed this. Missed you,” you told him as your hand rested on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hairs on the back of his neck. “Do you feel it when we touch? The fire, the electricity?” He nodded, capturing your lips again. 

You’d spent so many years alone after your parents died, sure that you’d never find home again. For fifteen years, you’d run away from the idea of home. You’d never thought home would be in a person, would be in Damon. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you reminded him, your hands sliding up his shirt as his hands slid down to your waist. You were still just in your tank-top and underwear, and here he was completely dressed. He only pulled away to let you pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. 

“God, I missed you,” he told you, staring into your y/e/c eyes. 

You didn’t move, not wanting to miss a second of this. Sure, you two now had forever, but this moment was the best moment of your existence. Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the smooth expanse of skin. Though your exploration was cut short as he peppered kissing along your jaw, your eyes closing and head falling back on the pillows. 

You just let yourself feel. Feel him. Feel the emotions that came with being so close to him. You couldn’t deny that the bad feelings were just there under the surface, but you tried to just focus on him. Which worked, your hands holding onto his biceps. 

His lips continued down your neck, one hand holding onto your waist as the other came up to gently push away the strap of your tank-top, giving him access to your shoulder. Your breaths came a little faster out of anticipation. He was everything you’d ever wanted. 

He pulled you up a little bit to slide your shirt off. You thought you’d feel more self conscious after all this time, but the only you felt was desire as you undid his belt buckle before sliding your hands down the waistband of his pants and boxers. 

“Dae,” you sighed as his lips found your breast. He knew exactly how to make you want more, peppering kisses before toying with your nipple with a mix of teeth and tongue. 

He didn’t stay long, continuing to work his way down to your stomach, sucking hickies along your hip bone that you both know would heal within minutes. It didn’t matter though. You were with Damon, close to him again. This reminded you of when you were the happiest. 

It came as no surprise when he pushed your underwear down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off as he stood to drop his pants and boxers. You propped yourself up on your elbows, taking in the glory that was Damon Salvatore. 

“Come here,” you told him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation. 

You saw him look at you, much like you were looking at him, licking his lips. You just couldn’t tear your eyes off his as he joined you on the bed again, kissing him like your life depended on it. One of your legs hooked around his waist, not wanting to waste any more time.  

The feeling of him sliding into you was more intense than you’d ever remembered, thinking it was probably because of your heightened senses. You hissed at first, burying your face in the crook of his neck, teeth biting into his skin. Until he started moving, moans falling from your lips, mingling with Damon’s. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you kissed anywhere you could reach -- his lips, neck, arms. You hadn’t been this happy in fifteen years. You hadn’t wanted someone as much as you wanted him in fifteen years. There were no words between the two of you, just the sounds of two people being together in the rawest form possible. You felt it build up and build up until it all came out, Damon following you. 

“I love you, Damon,” you finally told him, his face softening. You looked into his eyes and you saw endless possibilities. You saw a future you could have only dreamed of having as a human. You had eternity with him. For the first time since you were a teenager, you’d found home. 

[mldrgrl]

omg your little plot to the red shoe gif... i need them making out in the pilot and then continue what you said... please write it 😨🥵😍

Reckless

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13

Referenced post here

“Mosquito bites,” he says.

“What?”

“They’re mosquito bites.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I got eaten alive out there myself.”

The rising panic she’s been feeling turns to relief and she’s flooded with a release of adrenaline.  She fumbles with her robe, hastily drawing it back up over her shoulders and pulling the knot closed with shaking hands.  She turns without thinking, throwing her arms around him in gratitude so forcefully she feels him stumble backwards, but then one of his arms comes around her shoulders and he holds her back, albeit very loosely.

“You’re shaking,” he says, and rubs the side of her arm.

“I’m just...cold,” she lies, through gritted teeth.

He leans into her, stretching his arm out to place the candle he’s holding onto the table beside them and then he wraps both his arms around her.  She’s embarrassed by how nice it feels to be held by him and then chastises herself for her weakness.  Don’t do it, she tells herself.  Not another coworker.  Not another superior.  She pulls away from him, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  

“For what?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.  I’m not qualified.”

Oh god, she thinks.  Stop talking.  Just shut up, Dana.  She braces herself to be condescended to.  She doesn’t know if it’s all men, or just her luck that the men she’s had experiences with all have a terrible knack for making her feel even more inferior when she’s at her most vulnerable.  And Mulder would have every right.  She’s a liability, not an asset.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says.  

He guides her to the bed with a gentle grasp on her elbow and sits her down.  He unfolds the blanket at the end and drapes it over her shoulders like a cape.  She pulls it closed around her like it will protect her somehow.  He crouches in front of her and tips his head to the side.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks.  “A glass of water?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“What is it you think you’re not cut out for here?”

“I’m not a field agent.  I’m a medical doctor.  A pathologist.”

“And a damn good one, from what I’ve seen.”  

“How would you know that?”

He shrugs.  “Your reports are easily accessible in the database.  I read a few.  Very thorough and you have an eye for detail.”

“It’s not doing me a lot of good here.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know what you think of me, Mulder, but I was given this assignment to find answers and all I’ve found are questions.”

He nods.  “And?”

“Don’t you want answers?”

“Of course I do.  But, the x-files are about asking the questions that no one else will.  And sometimes that’s more important than just getting answers.”  

She stares at him with two simultaneous realizations.  He’s completely serious, for one.  And despite the hoops he’s made her jump through, he never once tried to discourage her from doing her job.

“Look, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time,” he says, as though he can read her thoughts.  “But, these files are important to me and I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“I want to help you.”

“Do you?”

There’s something in his tone that she can’t grasp.  He doesn’t believe her, but he wants to believe.  Almost earnestly.  It kickstarts her heart a bit.  She wants to say something reassuring, but doesn’t know what that would be.  

A loud crack of thunder like a gunshot makes her jump and tense.  Mulder squeezes her knee once and moves to stand, but she covers his hand and even though she knows she shouldn’t, she pulls him into her and kisses him.  It isn’t passionate, but it isn’t abrupt or awkward either.  It’s surprising, but warm and soft.  He pulls back and doesn’t say anything, but she can tell he’s thinking what she’s thinking.  This is wrong, we shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.

He kisses her this time and the blanket falls from her shoulders as she opens her arms to him.  She brings him down to the bed with her as she lays back.  He hovers above her, one knee on the bed, but still standing.  He’s got one hand pressed down next to her head and the other cupping her face, stroking her cheek as he kisses her.  It’s not enough.  There’s something magnetic about him.  As close as he is, she still wants him closer.  Her body is crying out for his touch.

Everything happens so very fast and she knows it has to be this way for if they stop to think about it, they’ll just stop.  But, that is not an option.  She pushes his shirt off and he unknots her robe and she unbuckles his belt and still there are just too many clothes and she can’t get enough.  They’re both being so reckless and irresponsible and she tries to care, but she just doesn’t.  She only regrets that they don’t even make an attempt at slowing down.

“Oh, god,” is all she can say.  He whispers her name over and over.  Scully, Scully, Scully.  Yes, her body sings in response.  Yes, yes, yes.

Now, they’re both trembling and the rain hasn’t even had time to subside.  Mulder retreats almost immediately, rolling away from her and hunching over the side of the bed.  She still feels too liquid to move, but he’s up and pulling his boxer shorts on and heading to the bathroom.  She forces her limbs to work, to push her upright and to bring the sheet up over her body.  She doesn’t know where her robe is, or her underwear.  She’s leaning over, patting the floor with one hand and holding the sheet to her chest with the other, when Mulder comes back out.  He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and hands her a warm, damp washcloth.  

Discreetly, she cleans herself up and watches Mulder flop down in the chair by the window.  He puts his head in his hands and braces his elbows on his knees.  Her gut twinges in remorse as she takes a sip of water.

“I was twelve and my sister was eight,” he says.  “When she disappeared.  My parents were at the neighbor’s and I was supposed to be in charge.  We were arguing over what to watch on TV one minute and then she was just...gone.”

“Gone?”

“I struggled for a long time trying to remember what happened.  They found me passed out on the floor next to the lockbox where my father kept his gun.  And Samantha was just...gone.”

“You never found her?”

He shakes his head.  “There was no evidence, no note, no nothing.  And no one would talk about it.  It tore the family apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Eventually, I went to school in England.  I came back and got recruited by the bureau.  It seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.”

“I’ve read your monograph on Monte Propps.  We studied it, actually, in the academy.”

Mulder snorts a little and rubs his face with both hands.  “My success, ironically, is what first gave me the freedom to pursue my own interests.  That’s when I stumbled on the x-files.”

“You found them by accident?”

“At first, it looked like a garbage dump for UFO sightings, alien abduction reports, the kind of stuff that most people laugh at as being ridiculous, but I was fascinated. I read all the cases I could get my hands on.  Hundreds of them. I read everything I could about paranormal phenomenon, the occult, and…”

“And what?”

“There's classified government information I've been trying to access, but someone has been blocking my attempts to get at it.”

“Who?”

“Someone at a higher level of power. The only reason I've been allowed to continue with my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

“Why would they block your attempts?  Are they afraid you’ll leak the information?”

He looks up at her and steeples his fingers, resting his chin upon them.  “You’re part of that agenda.”

“I’m not part of any agenda.  I told you, I’m-”

“You are, you just don’t know it.”

“That can’t be true.  It’s just not possible.”

“I'm telling you this, Scully, because you need to know.  Because of what you've seen. In my research, I've worked very closely with a man named Dr. Heitz Werber and he's taken me through deep regression hypnosis. I've been able to go into my own repressed memories to the night my sister disappeared.  I can recall a bright light outside and a presence in the room.  I was paralyzed, unable to respond to my sister's calls for help.”

“What are you saying, Mulder?”

“We are not alone.  The government knows it and I need to know why they’re hiding it.  Nothing else matters to me and this is as close as I’ve gotten.”  He drops his head back into his hands and scrubs hard at his face.  When he looks up at her again, his eyes are red and wet.  “I don’t ever talk about this with anyone.”

With the sheet wrapped around her, Scully gets up and moves to him.  He slumps back into the chair with a sigh and she sits across his lap, putting her arm around him.  He looks up at her wearily and she brushes the hair off his forehead before she places her lips to his brow.

“I want to help you find the answers,” she says.

“I know you do.”

She tips her head at him in question and he pushes the sheet off of her shoulder to run his hand down her back.  His fingertips brush over the marks on her lower back, tingling where he touches her.

“You believed me,” he says.  “No one else ever has.”

She stares at his face, wanting to protest, but it’s true.  She felt those marks and in that moment, she believed what she knows is impossible.  Her eyes fall to his mouth and she strokes his jaw, thumb grazing the mole at the back of his cheek.  She wants to kiss him again, but take her time with it.  The power is still out and they have all night.

The phone at Mulder’s nightstand rings and they both tense.  On the fifth ring, Mulder eases Scully from his lap and she slips into the chair as he gets up to answer.  He rubs the back of his neck as he barks a greeting.

“What?” he says.  “Who is this?  How did-hello?”

“Who was it?” she asks, when he hangs up.

“I don’t know.  A woman.  She said that Peggy O’Dell is dead.”

“The girl in the wheelchair?”

“Unless there’s some other Peggy O’Dell I don’t know about.”

Scully stands and spots her robe on the floor, along with her underwear.  She picks them up and clutches them against her chest with the sheet.  Mulder looks away and then brushes past her towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get dressed,” he says.

“I’ll...meet you back here when I’m done?”

“Okay.”

“Mulder?”

He stops in the door to the bathroom, but doesn’t look back.

“Should we talk about...this?” she asks, gesturing back and forth in the space between them.

“Maybe when the case is over.  I can’t really...afford to be distracted right now.  You understand?”

“I do.”  She nods, but feels a pang of disappointment.

“Good.”

She pulls her robe back on, stuffs her underwear in the pockets, and leaves the sheet on the floor before she heads back to her room.

The End

[commander-yinello]

Guardian (Jumin x Zen)

Happy Birthday @maniart1o9​!!! For you, I wrote some JuminZen with one of your favorite themes (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I hope you will enjoy it! Read more under the cut ♥♥ ~_^

Word Count: 1945 Warnings: Mild swearing, smoking, references to a car accident

Jumin knows he’s seen him.

Even upside down, with the airbag so closely pressed to his chest that he couldn’t move, his vision spinning, and the overwhelming scent of gasoline making him dizzy, he sees Zen outside the front window. And he’s glowing, so bright his eyes water. Then, as someone pulls him out of the car, he’s gone.

That’s not possible, assistant Kang insists next to the hospital bed he’s sitting in, both waiting for the doctor to come back. Zen was nowhere near C&R International, and she only just warned the RFA 5 seconds ago of the crash. He could not have possibly arrived here that fast.

Ah. The crash. The car crash. The one Jumin was in because Driver Kim had his day off, and Jumin saw no issue driving to the client himself. The one where Jumin had to swerve to dodge another car cutting off his lane, and caused his own car to topple over and crash against a tree.

She’s right, Jumin thinks, there’s no way Zen could have been at the crash. Most likely stress from the crash, a concussion, his panicked imagination going in overdrive.

Yet, not a minute later, the doctor tells him he doesn’t even have a bruise. As if he never was in a car accident. That should not be possible, the doctor says, and assistant Kang is equally confused. Jumin however, is not.

He is certain now, he’s seen Zen.

And he has a suspicion why.

~~~~

Jumin Han:

Do you sometimes find yourself in places you weren’t before when you travel?

ZEN: Dude it’s 1 AM why are you messaging me

Also wtf are you going on about

Are you high???

Jumin Han: You still replied.

ZEN: Go to sleep and leave me alone, asshole

~~~~

He’s always wondered what was up about Zen. He knows about albinos, they often took great care of themselves when going outside, and sometimes had other health issues. Not Zen, who is so handsome, not that Jumin would admit it out loud. Who is so fit, he jogged daily. Who has no problem taking selfies in broad daylight with no sunscreen or sunglasses in sight. It had been only after Jumin made the last comment, a year ago, that Zen suddenly mentioned jogging at night, or an extensive skincare routine.

Back then, he stopped caring very quickly. It wasn’t any of his business, of course, what the narcissistic man did.

Now he cares again. He remembers how Zen had gotten into an accident, and V told him in full detail how Zen had healed insanely fast.

A handsome albino with super fast healing skills. How very strange, he tells Elizabeth, and she meows in agreement. He pets her while leaning an elbow on his mahogany desk, laptop showing a website of occult creatures.

Maybe he is a vampire. The ones in that one teenage movie sparkle. Which is not a glow, his brain reminds him. Plus the whole sun thing would still be an issue.

He entertains the sexy albino vampire idea a bit too long, before he realizes and cuts his thoughts off on purpose.

Maybe he is too paranoid. Maybe Zen is human. Zen’s allergy for cats seems real, at least. Even though Zen is an actor, Jumin thinks, he hides his emotions poorly.

And then Zen mentions that, sometimes, he has prophetic dreams.

Strange. Very, very strange.

Too many things don't add up for Zen to be human. And Jumin wants to know who he truly is - very much so.

~~~~

Jumin Han: Do you often glow?

ZEN: Of course I do, my beauty is radiant Blessed by the Gods themselves

Jumin Han: Gods. Interesting. Tell me all about them.

ZEN: What? What do you mean? You’re creeping me out Also why are you messaging me again what the hell

Jumin Han: You always reply to me.

ZEN: No I don’t, stupid jerk

Jumin Han: And yet you did it again.

ZEN: Argh! I can’t with you! Screw you!

~~~~ 

Zen is calling him a weirdo in the chat again. Jerk. Freak. The words have never mattered to him, but now Jumin wonders if it’s a smokescreen. He’s paid very close attention to all of the chatrooms with Zen in it, to the point it felt like stalking. It’s interesting how often Zen brings him up as a topic, even when it’s completely unnecessary.

He starts to understand why Luciel thinks Zen is obsessed with him. Perhaps because there is more than Zen shows.

But Zen denies everything he asks. He denies whatever screenshots Jumin sends him. He insults and denies and rants, and Jumin doesn't get any closer to the truth. At some point, Zen mentions that his behavior is akin to his older brother, but it comes over as an excuse to make Jumin shut up.

To the outside world, it seems that Zen truly despises him. Jumin is just not convinced.

There’s only a few things Jumin knows for sure. Zen was there when he crashed. And it had to be connected to the fact that Jumin came out of the crash completely unharmed. That’s it.

It drives him mad that he is denied more knowledge.

So he makes a decision. He tells assistant Kang to watch over Elizabeth. Heads down to the garage. Opens the car door. Takes a deep breath and wonders if he’s gone insane.

He gets behind the wheel again.

~~~~ Yoosung☆: Hi Zen!!

Jaehee Kang: Hello Zen, good to see you!

ZEN: Hey guys Where’s Jerkmin?

707: Lololol why do you ask~ Could it be.... You miss him??! (~˘▾˘)~

ZEN: What?! Of course not Why would you say that I’m glad he’s not around to spoil the mood! I just find it suspicious he’s not here

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han said he had something important to do Now I have c-fur on my suit again T_T

Yoosung☆: Poor Jaehee, hopefully you’ll be free soon - Zen has left the chatroom -

Yoosung☆: Ehhhh????

707: Zen suddenly leaving? Now that’s suspicious ರ_ರ

Jaehee Kang: I hope nothing happened to him. ~~~~

Jumin never crashes. The moment he turns on the engine, Zen is there, in front of the car lights, scaring the hell out of him. In a split second, the lamps in the garage flicker, and Jumin swears he sees a faint glowing outline of feathers behind Zen. 

Zen is wearing his trademark turtleneck and holds a cigarette in his hand. He takes a drag and blows out the smoke, looking bored, as if he had been waiting.

“You're such a jerk, you know that?” Zen’s voice echoes in the large garage. They are alone. He hears nothing in the background, as if time stands still.

Jumin is too stunned to reply. Zen sighs, and walks to the side of the car, opens the door and takes his place in the passenger seat. He grabs the key from Jumin’s fingers and turns the engine off. The smell of tobacco and cologne fill Jumin’s nose, yet he doesn’t find the will to tell Zen not to smoke in his car.

“If me sitting here will stop you from killing yourself, then so be it,” Zen says, and takes another drag after closing the door.

Jumin realizes his hands still grip the wheel, and he slowly lowers them to his lap.

“What… what are you?” he asks.

“I can’t answer that. You already know way too much because I fucked up. Don't worry, nothing will happen to you,” Zen replies, and the smoke surrounding him makes him look more human.

“And to you?”

Zen looks out the open window instead. “It’s fine,” he finally replies.

That isn’t what he wants to hear. But if nothing would happen to him, then possibly Zen’s punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

Zen’s words do confirm other things - there is some higher power at work keeping Zen in check. And Zen did protect him, he’s sure of it now, from dying. So much so that Zen is in trouble for it.

“You protected me… too much. I should have had some damage,” Jumin says, inadvertently licking his lips. He’s nervous, because the bratty vain actor had been the one standing between life and death for him.

Zen runs a hand through his hair. Maybe Jumin is projecting, but he feels Zen is nervous too.

"I know that, trust fund. I just… couldn’t deal with… that." Zen waves his cigarette-free hand at the air in front of them, trying to stay as cryptic as possible.

He cares too much, Jumin instantly realizes. He watches Zen cross his legs - a defensive stance, Jumin notes - and wonders how much Zen has said in the chatroom is real.

“For someone like you, you aren’t exactly good at keeping it a secret.”

Zen chuckles. “You’d be surprised how much people accept. In fact, the stranger you seem, the less likely they suspect.”

Jumin hates to admit that it made sense. “Are you always fighting me because you have to distance yourself from me on purpose?”

“I can't answer that.”

Can't or shouldn't? Either way, Jumin is content with the answer. Yet, he can’t stop asking questions.

“Does everyone have… someone like you?”

“Not me specifically.”

Jumin makes a mental note to check all sun-loving albinos in the country. “Do you know who else is like you?”

Zen shook his head. “I know there are others. No idea who.”

“Sounds… lonely.”

“...It is.”

Jumin knows all about loneliness. He imagines Elizabeth on his lap, and sees the photo of V, Rika and him on his desk, and hears his father’s voicemail on his phone. So many days he’s convinced only Elizabeth would be there to catch him, when he comes home tired from work and falls down the abyss in his mind. Awful, lonely thoughts.

He wants to ask more. Menial questions like is Zen truly allergic, or deeper ones asking about the forces unknown. Jumin decides that he doesn’t want to push it.

“So… what now?”

“You,” Zen points at Jumin’s chest, “Will stop trying to drive, you menace. I actually like it here, so don’t make it worse.”

Jumin grins. “You like it here? Even with me?”

“Yeah, I know, must suck being guarded by someone you hate.” Zen rolls his eyes.

“I never hated you.”

Zen whips his head towards Jumin, eyes wide. 

“Never. Not even when you tried your worst. And now, knowing it is you watching over me… It is a blessing. Thank you, Zen.”

He means it. There is a happy light feeling in his chest, knowing there’s a very logical reason for Zen to act so irrationally towards him. And he knows that he’ll have to act irrational back in order to keep up the facade, so Zen can stay.

He wants Zen to stay.

Zen blushes, and tries to hide it poorly by looking out of the window again. Jumin can’t help but find it endearing. “When you say things like that, people will think you’ve gone crazy.”

Jumin smirks. He doesn’t care what people think of him. Wasn’t there still that rumor of him floating around?

Zen flicks his cigarette stub away and sighs. “Well, I need to go. Take care.”

“Should I, when I have you?” Jumin sasses. It’s too close to flirting to be misconstrued otherwise.

“Wh- N- Whatever, just don’t drive!” he yells. His cheeks are redder, and Jumin notices before the car is filled with a bright light.

Once again, Zen is gone. A very typically Zen to do. Jumin smiles, and sits in the car for a while.

He still has no good excuse when Assistant Kang finally finds him there.

[millenniumpuzzle]

it’s beginning to look a lot like checkout

summary: Joey is trying to survive working as a cashier during the holiday season. When a cute customer manages to turn around his entire day, he doesn't think he'll ever see the guy again. But when he keeps turning up, will Joey manage to form a relationship with him?

howdy! yes, i’m posting a multi-chapter fic for once. you can also read it on ao3 here <3 hope y’all enjoy!

Not for the first time today, Joey eyed the speaker embedded in the ceiling above his cash register and wondered how difficult it would be to smash it from the ground. Sure, it was a few feet up, but if he threw something hard enough at it, he could probably damage it, right? The stapler at his register wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid enough that it might fritz it out. Then again, he would almost certainly be fired, but he would take that if it meant that the speaker was at least non-functional. Anything to stop being forced to listen to that damn Christmas music.

Normally, he couldn’t really hear the music pumped through the hardware store at which he was (regrettably) employed, being too quiet to hear over the general din of a retail environment. The only exceptions were with songs he knew, which he was able to pick out easier, or when there was hardly anyone in the store making noise to drown out the speakers overhead. However, that all changed when Thanksgiving ended. Once that happened, corporate switched their generally palatable 70’s playlist to Christmas music, and Joey’s annual nightmare began.

That’s not to say he didn’t like Christmas; he wasn’t religious, so he didn’t really celebrate it except in the most bare-bones sense of getting his dad and sister a present on the day, but he thought the holiday season in general was fine. It was listening to the same damn songs for hours on end that was driving him up the wall. While he might hear a repeat or two on the standard playlist if he had a long shift, when Christmas rolled around, it was very possible to hear the same song three different times in only a few hours. If Joey ever met the person that designed this playlist and told their store to play it, he would give them a piece of his mind—and a piece of his fist besides.

Damn brain, he thought, resting his chin on his elbows, which were crossed on the counter. Can’t pay attention to somebody when they’re talking to me, but I can’t stop paying attention to Christmas music. Figures.

Furtively, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 3:15 pm. Only forty-five minutes until he got to clock out, but he knew this would be the longest part of his shift. It was after lunch but before most people got off work, meaning that business had slowed to a crawl. Normally, he was grateful for any downtime at work, especially later in his shift, but as “Silver Bells” started up for the fourth time that day, Joey was actively wishing someone would come to his register, just so he would be able to tune out the music.

The irritation from the music just added to everything else miserable about working in retail; Joey’s knees were killing him from having to stand all day on a concrete floor, and he was in that half-bored, half-stressed state that came with a slow moment at the register. He wanted to zone out, think about what he would make for dinner or come up with something fun to do with Serenity over her school break, but he couldn’t risk getting interrupted by a customer. So, he was stuck, unable to sit and rest his knees and forced to pay attention to his surroundings. Which, unfortunately, included the music.

The tell-tale beeping of a register being activated was a welcome distraction, and he picked his chin off his elbows to look in the direction of the noise. It wasn’t especially eventful; just his coworker, Ryou, being forced into scanning some lady’s entire basket, despite the fact that she was at a clearly labeled self-checkout register. Joey felt bad for him; Ryou was a sweet guy, which meant that he often got roped into doing way more than he should. He did, however, have more than a passing interest in the occult, which he weaponized against customers that pissed him off, so he was helpful to have around when dealing with someone annoying. He was a real wild card; Joey appreciated that about him.

“Hello? Can I check out here?”

God damn it.

“Yeah, sure thing!” Joey said, putting on his best Customer Service Voice. He whipped his head back around, coming face-to-face with the customer who had managed to sneak up on him, despite his earlier promises to not zone out. Immediately, however, Joey forgot everything about work, his mind going blank except for one thought: this guy was cute.

At first, Joey had made eye contact with his hair, rather than his face, given that the customer was pretty short and his hair was pretty tall. After a stray thought as to how much gel someone had to use to get it to stay that way, his eyes dropped to his actual face; that was when his brain had really started to short-circuit. How was he supposed to focus on making this guy pay for his stuff when he had such clear, violet eyes, such a friendly smile? Joey was only human, after all. The glimpse of a leather choker underneath the scarf the customer wore only made things worse.

“Is everything alright?” Fuck, the customer must have asked him a question. Not only that, but all his stuff was on the counter, and he was looking at Joey with an expectant, if confused, expression.

“Uh, yeah, just zoned out for a second.” It wasn’t a lie; he had zoned out, but he wasn’t going to tell the customer why. He grabbed the customer’s first item—a string of white Christmas lights—and scanned it as quick as he could, hoping to make up for lost time. “Did you, uh, find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did, thanks,” the customer responded, sounding just as friendly as he did when he first asked to check out. “I’m glad you still had some white lights! I really needed them, and they were sold out at the first two stores I checked.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad we could provide, then.” Joey continued scanning his items, noting that they were all Christmas decorations. He found it odd that the only lights the customer wanted to buy were white and blue, but maybe he was going for an unconventional Christmas tree design. Joey wasn’t here to judge people’s purchases, only make sure they happen. “Alright, your total is $32.64, cash or card?”

The customer held up a debit card in response, and Joey indicated the card reader in front of him. He finished paying in relative silence, leaving Joey to almost-zone-out at least a dozen more times, getting stuck on different aspects of the customer’s appearance. How much work is it for him to dye his hair three different colors? His nose scrunches up when he concentrates, that’s cute. Would it be too weird to ask for his number?

Too quickly, however, the card reader beeped, prompting the customer to remove his card. “Thanks so much!” he said, with a smile that was too charming for Joey’s poor, flustered heart to take.

“No problem,” he managed to say, despite being sure that he was going to ascend out of his body at any moment. He grabbed the customer’s receipt from the printer and handed to its owner; if he held it in a way to where he ensured that their fingers didn’t brush, well, that was self-preservation. “Thanks, and have a nice day.”

“Thanks, uh, Joey,” the customer said, peering at his name tag, “and happy holidays!” He waved goodbye with the hand not holding his bags, still with that blinding smile on his face, and turned to leave. Joey propped his chin back on his hand and watched him walk to the exit door, smiling at the way he pulled his scarf up over his nose before facing the cold.

“Fall in love with a customer, Joey?”

Joey yelled, losing his balance and nearly smashing his chin onto the counter, before he caught himself and spun around to face the person who had just spoken. “Ryou, what the fuck? You can’t just sneak up on me like that, you’re gonna get me killed.”

Ryou giggled, his elbows on the low wall that separated self-checkout from Joey’s register. There wasn’t a customer in sight—which meant that Joey was now fair game for ridicule. “Not my fault you were distracted. He’s cute though, did you get his number?”

“No, I don’t even know his name,” Joey grumbled. That made him remember that the customer had said his name, though, which made his face heat up. Didn’t think my name could sound that nice. He peeled open a new plastic bag, just for the sake of having something to do that meant he didn’t have to look Ryou in the eyes. “Besides, I can’t just ask a customer for his number! What if he thinks I’m weird, and writes me up, and gets me fired?”

“You have a point.” Ryou hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if he thought you were also cute?”

“It’s not like I’ll ever find out.” Joey sighed, putting his head in his hands. “He said he went to other stores for white lights before he found them here, which means he probably doesn’t live around here, which means I’ll probably never see him again. Better to just forget about it.”

Ryou made a sympathetic sound, and Joey didn’t have to see his face to know he was looking at him with pity. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Still, you seemed happy when you were talking to him. You never smile like that when you’re working, it was a nice change.”

Joey just sighed again, before the clearing of a stranger’s throat made him look up to realize that someone was ready to check out—right as the strains of “Blue Christmas” reached his ears from the damned speaker above him. Right, he had work to do, and on-the-nose Christmas music to endure. He plastered on his Work Smile, ready to greet his customer with all the fake friendliness a retail employee could muster.

Ryou was right; while talking to that cute customer, he had been genuinely happy. Unfortunately, it made his return to dismal reality all the sadder.

[adapembroke]

What I Learned From a Month of Praying to Mars

The planet Mars is not my friend.* I have been studying astrology long enough to know theoretically why Mars is important, and we have a decent working relationship when I'm in a crisis that needs an aggressive approach, but most of the time Mars shows up in my life as, frankly, stupid shit: Conflicts in my communities that are really unnecessary, injuries at spectacularly bad times, and the need to protect my boundaries from people who are more thoughtless than evil—which means they feel justifiably pissed off when I tell them to knock it off. To top it off, I have a history of being god-bothered by war gods, which is completely thematically inappropriate. I’m a Druid! Druids love peace. The ancient Druids separated armies on the edge of war, don’tcha know?

Recently, I had the opportunity to take Austin Coppock's class on planetary remediation. Planetary remediation is like physical therapy for difficult planets. The idea is that by bringing trouble planets' influence into your life in an intentional way, you can learn how to work with that energy more positively (or you can bribe the planet into being more friendly, depending on what you believe about astrology and fate). 

I didn't have Mars in mind when I decided to take this class. (I was more interested in learning how to work with my Venus in Aries.) But I've been working with Mars the most since I finished the class. Partly, that's because Austin suggested a ritual that sounded really easy for me to implement: For a month, on the planetary day of Mars (Tuesday) at the planetary hour of Mars (roughly 2:30 my time these days), pray the Orphic Hymn to Mars.

"All I had to do was read a paragraph aloud once a week four times, and that would improve my relationship with Mars?" I thought. Sold!

I wasn't familiar with the Orphic Hymns before I took Austin's class, but I really liked the hymn he shared with us. It was basically a very formal request that Mars busy himself with bringing love, parties, and abundance into my life, instead of causing problems.

I decided that I would do a short ritual that included the Orphic Hymn to Mars on Tuesday at 2:30pm four Tuesdays in a row in April and May.

For the first two weeks, this practice was easy. And nothing happened. I considered giving it up, but I'd made a commitment, so I decided to stick it out.

Then, I noticed that I was starting to become reluctant to do rituals outdoors. It's springtime in Oregon, the time of year when most people like to spend every possible moment outdoors stocking up on vitamin D. This, combined with quarantine, meant that my neighbors, who are usually at work or school during the day, were suddenly much more likely to be outside during the times when I would normally do rituals.

My neighbors are mostly nice people, but they believe that fences don't really have anything to do with privacy and what goes on in other people's yards is everyone’s business. I also live far enough away from the urban heart of Portland that my neighbors are red truck driving, Conservative talk-radio listening, just-folks Christians. I already had a bad reputation for being a liberal, Prius-driving, transplant who drove into town with parking stickers from Berkeley, California, and stays home on Sunday morning, puts sigils on the front door, and has men in the house when my husband(?) isn’t home. It wasn't hard to imagine how they would respond if they were outside when I started spinning in circles in the back yard, making occult gestures, and talking to the spirits of the air.

I started to find reasons to put all of my rituals off. For a week, Covid was a valid excuse for my cowardice. I wasn't getting new material from OBOD, anyway, so why bother trying to keep up with my studies? I'll run out of work soon, I said, and just be stuck twiddling my thumbs. Anyway, there was a crisis on. I was just being kind to myself, wasn't I? 

Then Tuesday rolled around. I stuck my head outside, and I heard one of my neighbors outside talking loudly on the phone on the other side of the fence a few yards from my ritual space. I had a choice: I could I keep my promise and do this ritual for an audience, or I could break a promise I'd made to Mars.

I've read The Odyssey, so I know what happens to people who break their promises to the gods. I don’t know what I believe about the relationship between the gods and the planets named for them, but I wasn’t going to risk it. I marched outside and very quietly and timidly cast a circle and called peace to the four directions. I took out my phone, opened the app with the hymn in it, and listened. My neighbor wasn't talking anymore. 

I looked at the hymn: "...bloody wars fierce and untamed...mortal destroying King, defiled with gore...thee human blood, swords, and spears delight..."

Why had I decided to do this?

I braved a glance at the fence. My neighbor was right there. She would hear me no matter what I did. I decided that my best option was to pretend that I knew exactly what I was doing and had full confidence in myself.

I called on all my old, rusty theater skills, took a deep diaphragmatic breath and bellowed the hymn.

"MAGNANIMOUS, UNCONQUERED, BOISTEROUS MARS!"

A moment later, I heard my neighbor's door slam. Not a sound was heard from that neighbor's yard for the rest of the afternoon.

I finished the hymn and unwound the circle.

As I stood there, trying to will my legs to stop shaking, I thought of what Austin said about what remediation does. The first step to solving problems with a planet is awareness, he said. When you start working with a planet, the issues that you have with a planet will bubble to the surface so that you can see and address them consciously.

Remembering this, I changed my mind about ending the ritual where I had planned and cast the circle again. I called to the spirits I work with and talked to them aloud, extemporaneously about why I was doing these rituals and what I hoped to get out of them.

When I started talking, I thought my issues with Mars were simple. To me, Mars was a nuisance that only showed up in my life to bring discomfort and pain. While I described my issues with Mars, I thought about the ways I struggle to enforce boundaries, my fear of taking up space, my reluctance to compete with others for space even when they're pushing into space that is rightfully mine, space that I need to be safe or autonomous.

I thought of nightmares I've been having since the pandemic started in which I am stuck in a room full of people who keep hugging me and refuse to wear masks. The world is having a big collective conversation about personal space right now. How much do we need? How much space between people is enough? What do you do when others don't practice social distancing around you the way you think they should? What do you do when the people around you demand more space than you think they need? What do you do when there simply isn't enough space for everyone? What do you do when your very existence makes people uncomfortable...or angry?

I realized that my issues with Mars are exactly aligned with this world-wide conflict over personal space, and I'm learning that playing it safe and avoiding situations where your needs are going to make people uncomfortable isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to fight for your right to exist.

I wouldn't say that Mars and I are reconciled, but I don't see the red planet as a cruel, sword-wielding, maniac anymore. I realize now that I have lessons to learn from the god of war. I have work to do when it comes to enforcing boundaries and dealing with conflict. Insisting on my right to practice my religion in peace in my own backyard was a first step, but I am almost certain that this frank exchange of views with Mars isn't over yet.

*There are several astrological reasons for my difficult relationship with Mars. I have a day chart, which means that Mars is the malefic planet that I have the most difficult relationship with. Mars rules my south node, which means Mars is connected with past life trauma. And Mars is conjunct Chiron, Lucifer (and Ceres) in my 11th house and trine my Moon in Aquarius, which means the planet of the god of war is connected with present-life trauma and discomfort, too, while also getting tangled up with my ability to find peace and take care of myself. Grr.

[spacecakes20]

Begin Again

(Chapter 7)

Chapter 8: Luna, Missing Blueprints

Luna’s spring harvest wasn’t anything spectacular. She tried her best not to beat herself up about it; it was her first harvest after all. But the fact that she was losing more money than she was earning bothered her. She wanted to save up to invest in her farmhouse. She just couldn’t survive on a mini-fridge and a microwave anymore. She needed a real kitchen.

      “Perhaps you could invest in a chicken coop!” The local carpenter, Robin, had told her. “It’s cheaper than the house upgrade, and you can make extra money off the eggs and mayonnaise.”

      She’d kept that in mind, as she made her way to the library. Perhaps she could put in some research on chicken rearing. And maybe beekeeping too. Robin had given her a blueprint on building bee houses, and she wanted to put it to good use.

      It was the first day of summer, and the air was as humid as ever. The sun hung high in the sky, the sound of cicadas filled the air, and the smell of nectar caressed her nose. It was an upgrade from the sounds of honking horns and the overwhelming smells of exhaust from broken down cars of the city. The air felt much fresher in the valley. Cleaner. The sounds of nature were much more calming than the chaotic noise of the hustle-and-bustle of Zuzu.

      At the library, Luna collected any book related to farming she could get her hands on. She wanted her summer to be better. She wanted to prove that moving to the Valley wasn’t a mistake. She wanted—

      “Luna!”

      The young farmer turned to the sound of her name. She was greeted by plump rosy cheeks and bright violet hair. Abigail was seated at one of the desks behind the bookshelves.  

      “Hello, Abigail.” Luna greeted, almost shyly. She still wasn’t used to how close everyone seemed to be in Pelican Town. In the city, people usually went ignored. You were but a single drop of water in the large ocean of the masses. Insignificant.

      Abigail had a stack of books next to where she sat at the table. From reading the spins, Luna saw most of them were history and archaeology books. A lot of the others seemed to be based on the occult and witchcraft. She had an open textbook, with a notebook beside it, paragraphs of words already written inside.

      “That’s an… interesting assortment of books.” Said Luna, a bit intrigued.

      Abigail followed her gaze to her pile of books she had. “Oh yeah.” She laughed, “I’m an archaeology major.” She clarified, “I’ve got final exams coming up.”

      That… didn’t explain why she had books about the occult, but Luna decided to ignore that, “That so?”

      Abigail nodded, “Yup.” Then, more softly now, “You know the mines in the mountains?”

      “Yeah?” Luna answered, unsure where this conversation was going.

      “Well, I’m going to explore them!” Abigail said, more confidently, “Figured no one could stop me if it was my job, ya know?”

      Luna nodded, not fully understanding where she was coming from but didn’t want to sound rude by asking.

      “What about you?” Abigail pointed to Luna’s books with her pencil, “What are you reading up on?”

      “Oh,” Luna looked down at her books, and suddenly felt a little sheepish, “Just some books on gardening. Raising chickens and… beekeeping…” She didn’t want the townspeople to think she was incompetent. She was the granddaughter of a farmer, for Yoba’s sake. Wasn’t this kind of thing supposed to be in her blood?

      But she wasn’t met with a look of condescension, but was surprised when she got an excited smile instead, “Oooh, are you going to make honey?” Abigail licked her lips at the thought, “When you do, let me know! Mom makes the best honey cakes!”

      That caught Luna off guard, “S-sure.” She tried to collect herself, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      Abigail simply smiled, “Well, I won’t keep you.” She said, “I’ve gotta cram anyway. I’ll talk to you later!” Then she went back to her studying.

      It was almost sad how refreshing it was to hear words of encouragement that sounded genuine, rather than condescending kindness. Luna decided not to dwell on it, deciding to check out her books instead.    

                                                          ...

After spending a few hours on her farm studying, Luna was starting to feel restless. She decided to get started on building those bee houses. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t find the blueprint. Try as she might, it was like it up and disappeared. She’d thought, with how small her farmhouse was (it was just one room!), it’d be easy to find, but alas; she was out of luck. Perhaps she could go to Robin’s and get another copy. That seemed to be her only option.

      She made her way up the mountain, taking in the fresh air. The hike to Robin’s house always felt relaxing, even if it didn’t seem to last too long. Standing in front of Robin’s shop, Luna rang the doorbell. It was only out of politeness. The carpenter had told her many times that it was okay to just come in, but Luna never felt comfortable doing that.

      After standing there for what felt like forever, she decided to ring it again. Perhaps Robin couldn’t hear her. The kitchen was in the back of the house, right? Maybe she was making lunch. But the longer she stood there, the more she second-guessed herself. There was a possibility she wasn’t home. Her shoulders deflated with that thought. She was looking forward to putting together the bee houses. It looked like she’d just have to wait another day. Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the door open.

       Her face lit up, “There you are Robin—”

       That… wasn’t Robin at the door. It was her raven-haired son, Sebastian. He wasn’t wearing his black hoodie she had gotten so used to seeing him in. He had on a gray tee-shirt and some black sweatpants. He was as pale as ever, making his purple bags under his eyes more apparent. He looked exhausted, making Luna feel guilty.

        “I’m sorry,” She winced at the sound of her voice, “Did I bother you?”

        He closed his eyes, putting his hand behind his head, “Not really,” He said, “I was already upstairs.” He opened his eyes and looked to her. His face was unreadable, “Mom went grocery shopping.”

        “Oh…” She tried not to sound disappointed, and summoned the brightest smile she could muster, “Well, please let her know I stopped by.” Before she even took two steps, Sebastian spoke up.

        “Wait.”

        She turned to him, eyeing him curiously.

        He hesitated for a second, as though he was weighing his options. Finally, he said, “She should be back soon. You can wait for her inside.”

        That… took her by surprise. “Are you sure?”

        He simply nodded, opening the door for her wider. She hesitated for a moment. It was very hospitable of him. Unsure with how to respond, she decided to smile, “Thank you.” She said, making her way into the house. He closed the door behind her. The foyer, where Robin did her business, felt smaller standing next to Sebastian. Perhaps it was because he was so tall.

        “It’s a lot cooler in the basement.” His words brought her mind back to the forefront. She blinked at him in confusion. It took a while for her to register what he had said.

        “Oh!” She laughed at herself, “Thank you.”

        He led the way to the hallway, which lead to a doorway. She assumed that must have led to the basement. Come to think of it, she had never come this far into the house before. She normally did business with Robin at the front desk and left.

        Sebastian led her down the stairs, and, upon opening the door, led her inside. She was first met with cool air. He was right, it was nicer in the basement. Getting a good look around the room, it was surprisingly neat. The bed was freshly made, clothes in the hamper instead of beside it. She was too used to people her age being more… disorganized.

        She noticed Sebastian had made his way to a computer desk. He had two desktops; the one he wasn’t on looked to be for gaming. The LED lights kind of gave it away. Behind his desk was a bookshelf. She must have made her way over there on autopilot because she didn’t remember the walk. She examined the spines, reading them off one by one. There were all kinds of books lined up. Books on programming, gemology and mineralogy, comic books, and graphic novels. He also had his fair share of sci-fi, fantasy, and adventure novels. She recognized a few, from when she used to have time for reading. She had stopped when Charles told her she was “too mature to enjoy childish books.” The sound of typing snapped her out of her thoughts.

        “One second,” Sebastian said, typing something up on his computer. He stared at the screen for a minute, perhaps checking his work, before turning his attention to Luna. “Sorry, busy working on a project for a client.”

        That piqued her interest, “A client?” She asked, giving him her full attention, “What do you do for a living?”

         He paused. He looked to be eyeing her carefully before allowing the words to leave his mouth, “I freelance.” He said finally, “A freelance programmer, specifically.”

        “A freelancer, huh?” She responded, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. You’re like your own boss, then?”

        He laughed, but it didn’t sound humorous, “I guess you could say that.” Before Luna had time to think about Sebastian’s response further, his computer pinged. He sighed. Without even looking at the screen, he said, “It’s Sam.” He sounded almost exasperated, “He just won’t stop messaging me.” Just as he spoke those words, his door opened. Robin’s bright freckled face peeked through. She looked surprised to see Luna there. Luna suddenly felt self-conscious. Like she’d just been caught alone in a man’s room. Well, she was alone in a man’s room. But not like that.

        “Oh, hey Luna.” Robin sent her a smile before turning her attention to her son, “Sebby, I’m just letting you know,” She started carefully, “I ran into Abigail at the store. She said she’s looking for you.”

        That seemed to have made Sebastian's shoulders deflate, as he sat back in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly, “Did you tell her I’m working?”

        Robin looked almost guilty, “I did…” She looked at him apologetically, “But she said she may stop by anyway.”

        That only seemed to earn a groan from Sebastian. Robin sent him a sympathetic smile before turning her gaze to Luna, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner.” With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

        Sebastian put his hands on his face and took in a deep breath. “No one seems to take my job seriously.” He mumbled, pushing his hands through his already messy hair. Luna wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear that. “No one bothers Maru when she’s busy at the clinic.”

        Luna could have taken that as an opportunity to leave. She could have given Sebastian her thanks and followed Robin. She could have done that. But she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She could never take the easy way out, now could she?

        “So…” Her voice drifted. Sebastian sent her a look from the corner of his eye. She had his attention, so no sense in turning back now, “A programmer, huh?” She said, searching her brain for the right thing to say. She knew what she wanted to say, but finding how to say it always proved difficult. “That’s pretty impressive. Self-taught?” She recalled seeing more than a few computer science books on his shelf.

        “Yeah,” He sat back in his chair, “Bet if I had gone to school, I’d probably be making six figures by now.”

        Luna couldn’t hold back a snort, “Yeah, and you’d be spending most of it on student loans.” She laughed almost bitterly.

        A ghost of a smile graced his lips, but it was gone too quick for Luna to realize if it was even there in the first place, “I just…” He looked away from her, eyes focused on his keyboard, “…Don’t want to be part of the cooperate rat race, you know?”

        She got that. Boy did she get that. Climbing the cooperate ladder didn’t require hard work. Not like how she was taught. No, it required connections. It didn’t matter how good you were at your job, if you weren’t friends with the right person, you’ll never make it out of your position. It was disheartening seeing people get promoted over someone who was better qualified. And all because they couldn’t play the game. It happened far too often.  

        “If it makes you feel any better…” Luna smiled, trying to lighten the mood, “I got a degree in economics. Now I’m a farmer. So now my degree is the most expensive mouse pad that I own.”

        That earned the amused response she was hoping for. Sebastian shook his head, “Economics, huh?”

        “Mom wanted me to become an accountant.” Luna shrugged. More like she wanted Luna to get a "real job" when she told her mother she was thinking about majoring in Fine Arts. But Sebastian didn't need to know that. "Didn't work out that way, but hey, what can you do."

        He nodded before turning his head to the ceiling. Leaning back in his computer chair, he looked to be lost in thought. “I plan on moving to the city.” He seemed to have surprised himself with that statement, as though he didn’t mean to say it out loud. At least, not to her. He sat up straighter in his chair, “Not too many work opportunities here in the valley.” He cracked his knuckles before his hands hovered over the keyboard. He looked to her, his face back to its default stoic self, “Don’t think I’m kicking you out,” He said, “But I need to get this finished by tomorrow.”

        It wasn’t so much as a hint, as it was a huge neon sign. Contrary to what he was saying, he was, in fact, kicking her out.

        “Alright.” She made her way to the door, before turning to Sebastian, “It was nice talking with you.” And she meant it. It was perhaps the first real conversation the two had alone together. He didn’t word his response, simply humming back to her. He was probably too focused on work. She didn’t mind. She had invaded his space long enough. In the meantime, she needed to ask Robin about those blueprints so that she could get back to work too.

[hargreeveslftv]

The Occult: DOOMSDAY | an umbrella academy series

chapter seven | word count: 4,009

CHAPTER SEVEN | for better… ( song | blue lights - jorja smith )

Melanie laid on Ben’s bed once again, not having the strength to spend the night at home on her own, not after having spent the last two days awake without sleep, and the distress that clinged onto her still hours later. 

The morning sun poured in through the window, but Melanie still couldn’t bring herself to get up from where she laid, staring at the wall, curled into herself. 

As she heard approaching footsteps, she hoped they would walk straight past, but instead her hopes are dashed as Luther’s voice comes from the other side. 

“Melanie?” He calls. 

“What?” She replies, voice horse after not saying a word since they arrived back at the academy. 

“Family meeting. Get up and come down to the living room.” He commands, earning a groan from Melanie as she rolled over, throwing the pillow under her head at the door. 

It didn’t take Melanie long to get up once she had to, asking Klaus for more clothes and getting a red t-shirt dress that she changed into before stealing a probably expensive black and white stripped long sleeve shirt and leggings from Allison’s room to complete the look, slumping down stairs and laying back on a couch as she waited for everyone else. 

“Three days?” Allison asks Luther, handing Melanie a cup of takeaway coffee once everyone had gathered in the room. 

“That’s what Five said.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his own coffee. 

“The old bastard did mention the apocalypse, come to think of it.” Klaus sighs, sitting on the floor beside Melanie with his back resting against the couch. “He just left out the part about how soon." 

"But can we trust him? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Five’s a little…” Allison trails off, making a whistling noise and twirling her finger beside her ear. 

“Our little psycho.” Klaus chuckles lovingly. 

“He was pretty convincing. If he wasn’t trying to stop an apocalypse, those lunatics wouldn’t be chasing him.” Luther explains, Diego raising his eyebrows at him. 

“That’s why they were after him?” He asks. 

Luther nods, while Allison leans up against the bar. 

“What did Five even see?” She asks. 

Luther hesitates for a moment, looking to Allison before his eyes scan the rest of the faces in the room. 

“Uh, apparently, we all fought together against whoever was responsible.” He nods, obviously leaving out details, being the worst liar of the family. 

With all eyes on him, he awkwardly moves, getting up from the bar stool and walking to the end of the couches as he speaks. 

“Okay, so, here’s the plan. Uh, we go through dad’s research-" 

"Wait, what?” Allison cuts him off, the other three adding on their own calls for him to stop. 

“What actually happened the first time around?” Klaus asks Luther, who looks more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

“Yeah,” Diego adds, “what are you not telling us? Come on, big boy. Spit it out." 

All of the siblings look up at him expectantly, coffee cups in hand and silence falling between them. 

"We died.” Luther says quickly, taking a sip of his coffee immediately after the words leave his mouth. 

“What was that?” Allison asks, Melanie raising her own eyebrows as she twists to face Luther fully. 

“Yeah I didn’t quite get that one." 

Luther coughs before speaking again, looking around with as much awkward energy as ever. 

"I said, uh, we died." 

Silence washes over the room, everyone staring off into the middle distance until Melanie moves. 

Without saying a word, Melanie walks around the bar, feeling all eyes on her as she chugs the last of her coffee, pulling off the lid and letting it fall on the bar beside her as she takes the bottle of whiskey from the side. 

Spinning the cap, and flicking it off into the room, she pours a small amount in the cup, swishing it around and drinking it before pouring a lot more in its place, letting the bottle slam down to the side again as she looks up to see all four of the others looking at her. 

"The fuck are you talking about?" 

"Yeah Luther. Just, you’re just now telling us about this?” Diego asks angrily. 

“I didn’t know-" 

"No we need to figure this out. Is it just us?" 

"No, it’s everybody.” Luther confirms, everyone moving to gather around the bar. 

“Like everyone everyone?” Melanie asks, her own question getting lost between those of Diego and Allison. 

The only thing that stops the quickfire questions is the sound of Vanya’s voice, instantly catching everyone’s attention as Allison and Luther turn around, clearing the path for Melanie to see her and a familiar man behind her.

“What’s wrong?” She asks. 

“It’s a, family matter.” Allison replies, Diego and Melanie sharing a look behind Luther’s back as Vanya repeats her words. 

“So you couldn’t bother to include me.” She says bitterly, Luther immediately jumping to deny it. 

“No, it’s not like that, we were-" 

"Don’t let me interrupt.” She scoffs, going to walk out the door with Allison chasing her as she goes. 

“This is gonna be trouble.” Diego comments quietly, Melanie nodding as she took another swig of her drink. 

“I’ll fill you in later when we’re alone.” Allison offers, only to get immediately shut down. 

“Please, please don’t bother. And I won’t either." 

"Vanya, that’s not fair." 

Vanya raises her eyebrows, looking at Allison like she’d grown another head. 

"Fair? There’s nothing fair about being your sister.” She fires back, anger obviously rising to the surface. 

“I have been left out of everything for as long as I can remember. And I used to think it was dad’s fault,” she says bitterly, looking at the rest of the siblings gathered at the bar, “but he’s dead. So it turns out you’re the assholes.”

And with that, Vanya turns on her heels, walking out with the man following her. 

“Ouch.” Klaus comments, Melanie watching Allison as she walks back. 

“Is it bad I’m kinda glad no one did invite her now?” Melanie asks, Klaus shrugging slightly, showing indifference. 

“I’m gonna go find Vanya and explain.” Allison tells them, before turning to walk away herself. 

“Allison, wait. We don’t have enough time. We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse.” Luther warns. 

“Now there are, loads of possibilities.” Luther addresses everyone, Allison joining them again. 

“Nuclear war, asteroids. But I’m thinking this is about the moon, right?” Luther says, instantly losing everyone in the room. 

Melanie almost wants to laugh as she sees the look of desperation Diego sends Klaus the moment the word “moon” leaves Luther’s mouth. 

“Dad must have sent me up there for a reason. And I was giving him daily updates on the conditions, I sent field samples. So the first thing we need to do, is find his research." 

"Hold on, hold the phone,” Klaus interrupts, “we all died fighting this thing first time around, remember?”

“Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Diego asks, adding onto Klaus’s point. 

“Five.” Luther replies, “Last time we didn’t have him. We weren’t all together. This time, we’ll have the full force of the umbrella academy, that’s what we need." 

"What we need is more information.” Melanie comments. 

“She’s right. So, where is Five now?” Allison asks. 

“Well, he had a plan to change the timeline, he’ll be back soon." 

"I’m going after Hazel and Cha Cha.” Diego announces suddenly, catching everyone’s attention. 

“What, right now?” Luther asks, watching on in confusion as Diego walks out. 

“Hell yeah. Three days, I’m losing light by the minute.” He throws over his shoulder, but being stopped by Luther. 

“Wait, look, I know you wanna avenge your friend, but we got a bigger problem here." 

"She wasn’t just some friend.” He replies, turning around to look at Luther, “if I’m gonna die, I need to know I killed those bastards first." 

Melanie tried to block out their bickering as best as she could as she walked around the bar, hand trailing over the back of the couch where Klaus sat as she stopped behind it, holding herself up as she watched the interaction between Diego and Luther with little interest. 

She nearly misses Klaus bending over in pain out of the corner of her eye, but frowns as she sees the pained look on his face. 

"Hey, you okay?” She asks quietly, kneeling behind the couch so she was closer. 

“What makes you say that, I feel great.” He replies in a strained voice, but Melanie knows it isn’t to her. 

Instead, he ignores her, going to walk out of the room before Luther calls him back. 

“Yeah! sorry.” He spins around playfully, though the obvious discomfort in his face said that he felt anything but playful. 

“So what, you’re giving up in the world too?” Luther asks him, Melanie catching his attention as she stands beside him, slapping a hand onto his shoulder and looking up to answer his question. 

“I think we all kinda have bud.” She nods, as Klaus lets out his own string of replies. 

“So that’s it. You’re both cool with us all dying in three days?” Luther asks angrily. 

Klaus just groans as he walks away, while Melanie takes his place in front of Luther. 

“I’ve been wanting to die for years, at least now it’ll be a group thing.” She smiles, shrugging as Luther looks on at her with concern flashing across his face. 

With a peace sign thrown over her shoulder, Melanie leaves the room, walking up stairs but stopping on her way to Ben’s room as she sees Klaus tying up Diego’s shoes. 

“What are you two doing?” She asks, leaning against the door frame and looking into the room. 

“I, my dear Mellie, am going to become clean.” Klaus announces. 

Melanie looks at him with raised eyebrows, glancing to Diego who shrugs in response, Melanie shrugging herself as she accepts what he says. 

“Okay then, need a hand? I’m kinda not into this whole three days left thing so I’m free for whatever shenanigans you two are up to.” She asks, Klaus smiling as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

“Aww would you look at that, Mel wants to spend her last days on earth with us.” Diego jokes, Melanie rolling her eyes at her antics. 

“Better you two and Ben than on my own in a empty apartment.” She shrugs, following Klaus as he waltzes out of the room. 

“You know,” Melanie says, walking in the opposite direction from Diego as they both held ropes, walking around Klaus and tying him up, “I kinda like that we’re doing this together." 

"Really?” Diego asks as she holds the rope up over his head, him ducking under as they walk. 

“Yeah. We’ve done more together this week from choice alone than the whole time we were here as kids.” She laughs. 

“Oh what a week it has been.” Klaus sighs, eyes following the two before finally looking at his feet. 

“You’ve got a point.” Diego agrees with a nod. 

“I mean, I don’t think any of us had a ideal childhood, but I’d like to think we at least kind of like each other these days." 

"Yeah, it must have been a trip when you showed up here.” Diego comments, Melanie letting out a laugh at the thought alone. 

“Just a bit. I mean at least you guys all had each other since you were babies, when I came in it was like I was the new exhibit and you guys were a bunch of school kids with pebbles.” She laughs, her humor covering up the more malicious truth of her recollection. 

“Mellie?” Klaus asks, catching her attention as she stops in front of him, “why did you end up with us?" 

Klaus looked up at her curiously, while Diego’s expression held more concern. Throughout their whole lives together, Melanie had told none of them about her life before the academy, not the big things, and they both knew it was for a reason. 

Melanie took a deep breath as they stopped moving with the rope, instead, she stopped moving to stand in Klaus’s field of vision, Diego following her lead and holding the rope to hold Klaus in place. 

"I, uh, well, screw it, we’re all going down in three days anyways.” She laughs joylessly, staring at her hands as she speaks. 

“My mom died in childbirth, so, my dad became a single parent. He never really had a family himself, so it was just us for a long time, til he met his second wife. They got married quick, to me anyways . Then, about a year after he married her,” Melanie sighs, “my dad disappeared.”

“What happened to him?” Diego asks carefully, not wanting to set her off. 

“Never found out, but he’s never been pronounced dead, which is why Reginald couldn’t adopt me and had to settle for being my guardian instead.”

“And your step-mom?” Klaus asks. 

“I can’t really remember much, I was too young. But I know I did something bad, which is why I ended up with my step grandmother, who was the one that sold me off.” She shrugs. 

“That’s,” Klaus sighs, “that’s a lot." 

"Yeah well, we all know how things went after that.” She waves off, holding the rope firmly again as she cleared her throat. 

“This stays between us, cause you’re a bunch of jackasses, but, you’re the only family I’d ever acknowledge as mine, even if it’s only been for a couple years." 

"Yeah, you’re not so bad in small doses yourself.” Diego laughs, lightening the mood and making the other two laugh as well. 

“Thanks, dipshit.” She smiles, settling back into the rhythm of circling Klaus again. 

“I hate this room.” Diego sighs, and Melanie can’t help but nod in agreement. 

“Oh, it got me high enough.” Klaus laughs, “I picked it clean of anything of value after daddy kicked the bucket. Tighter and higher, would you?” He asks the two of them after a moment, Diego looking at him with raised eyebrows before yanking the rope. 

“If I see a boner, I’m out.” He says, Melanie scoffing at his statement. 

“End of the world and you wanna get sober all of a sudden.” Diego speaks under his breath as he hands Melanie his rope, taking hers and tightening it like his. 

“Don’t mind me man, good for you, but I’d think you’d wanna pop every pill on the planet." 

"Oh, the thought did cross my mind, believe me, but… there’s something I need to do, and the whole pesky thing doesn’t seem to work unless I’m sober.” He explains as Diego ties both the ropes around the leg of the chair. 

“Is this about conjuring the one you lost? What was her name?” Diego asks, Melanie sitting down across the room on top of some old suitcases now her part of the job was done. 

“His name was Dave.” Klaus responds sadly. “We soldiered together in the A Shau Valley… in the Mountains of the Crouching Beast." 

Melanie rested her chin against her knees, hugging them close as she listened to him, Diego still at his side and Ben at hers, even if she was oblivious. 

"Well, Dave must have been a very special person… to put up with your weird ass shit.” Diego says, as kindly as a caring brother could. 

Klaus snorts at his tacked on comment, a smile coming to Melanie’s face as she watched them. 

“Yeah, yeah he was…” Klaus laughs happily, recalling the man he loved, “He was kind, and strong, and vulnerable, and… beautiful. Beautiful. And I was… foolish enough to follow him all the way to the front line." 

"You fought in the shit?” Diego asks, instantly met with an enthusiastic nod. 

“Oh yeah, baby.”

“How’d they let you do that?" 

"Let me?” Klaus asked rhetorically, “War could not take enough bodies, please… including his." 

The room fell silent as Klaus’s grief became obvious and overwhelming, even for the ones sitting in the room with him. 

"Hey! Look at us.” He says, trying to pick up the mood. “Logging in some quality sibling time before the end of the world." 

"There’s definitely worse we could be doing.” Melanie comments, Diego quick to agree, though somewhat more bitterly. 

“Yeah, everyone else I like is already dead." 

"If it makes you feel any better, ditto.” Melanie agrees, both of them letting out a laugh as Klaus just smiled at them. 

“Ah, yes, the lady cop.” Klaus nods, Diego frowning as he looked at him, while Melanie frowned at Diego. 

“Patch?” She asks. 

“Yeah. Mom too. I let them both down.” He breathes, sadness laced into his words. “So now here I am, alone with you two." 

Melanie feels the cold air in the room that she felt leave, and frowned slightly as she looked around. 

"Ah shit.” Klaus says as Diego slaps his shoulder, about to walk off. 

“What?" 

"I need to pee." 

"Jesus. I’m out.” Melanie shakes her head, getting up and walking out to leave them to figure out their predicament. 

As Melanie walked away, she ducked into rooms along the way, searching for the familiar coolness but not being met with anything. Where had he gone? 

Sighing, Melanie hoped everything was sorted and walked back up to the room, frowning as she saw Klaus heaving for breath and Diego working quick to tie him back up again. 

“What happened?” She asks. 

“He’s trying to back out.” Diego explains, pulling the rope around him. 

“Stop it! Damn it, stop it!” Klaus yelled at him, thrashing around and trying to escape. 

Running forward, Melanie took the second peace of rope, running around him as well to hold him in place. 

“Get off me! Get off-” Diego puts his arm around his neck, grabbing his shoulder and holding him close to get him to calm down. 

“Listen, listen to me.” He asks, “I can conjure her for you. Patch! I can-”

“Stop. Stop. Don’t use her name like that okay?!” Diego threatens him, Melanie taking a step back to stop from getting in the way, knowing this was one she wouldn’t be able to stop. 

“You can’t conjure shit until you’re clean.” Diego reminds him, ignoring his pleas as Melanie backed further into the room. 

It wasn’t easy to see the people she loved like this, no matter how permanent it was. 

“I don’t want to see her until I can tell her I buried the bastards that killed her." 

"Please Diego, please." 

Diego cuts him off, grabbing a blue bucket from behind him and putting it in front of Klaus. 

"This is for next time. Puke, pee, whatever you need, multipurpose, you see?”

“Diego!” He calls, watching as Diego walked away, “Diego! Please come back! You prick!" 

Gasping for breath and struggling against his binds, he looks to Melanie instead, who stood at a distance from him. 

"Mel, Mellie, please untie me.” He pleads with her. 

“I can’t do that, Klaus-" 

"Would you do it for Ben?” He cuts her off, and Melanie has to stop herself from reacting in that moment, seeing the glow of her own veins from the corner of her eye. 

“Klaus. I love you. Don’t change that.” She warns, tears in her eyes as she walks forward, kissing the top of his head and smoothing down his hair. 

“I’m sorry. But I love you, okay?” She reassures, before following in Diego’s footsteps, all while Klaus cried after her. 

The sound alone struck down to her very soul, but that didn’t stop her as she met Diego at the bottom of the stairs, crashing into him as his good arm wrapped around her tightly, him waiting for her to come down the stairs. 

“I don’t know what he said, but you know he doesn’t mean it.” He reminds her, pulling back from the hug and watching her as she dried her tears on the sleeve of Allison’s shirt. 

She nods, and Diego takes that as enough reassurance, patting her shoulder before walking down the hallway and downstairs.

Melanie stood in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath as she tried to shake off Klaus’s words. She knew they were out of desperation, but that didn’t mean they stung any less.

“He shouldn’t have said that to you.” She hears from behind her, her head snapping around instantly to see the source of the voice. 

Ben leans against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to the ceiling and not seeing her looking straight at him.

She stops for a moment, her heart in her throat once again as she looks at him, terrified to move and lose sight of him like she did in the car. 

With tears blurring her eyes, she takes in the sight of him, taller, older than she remembered, but still the same face that comforted her before and after every mission or punishment she had to endure. 

“Ben?” She whispers, terrified of him disappearing again. 

His head snaps in her direction, his own face lighting up with recognition as he realised she was seeing him again. 

“Holy shit, Melanie?” He smiles excitedly, his voice full of hope as he pushed himself off the wall, meeting her in the middle of the hallway as Melanie walked closer to him on shaky legs. 

“How… how can you see me?” He asks, Melanie shaking her head in disbelief as they stood directly in front of each other for the first time in thirteen years. 

“I don’t know, but I’m happy I can.” She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand as she choked back a sob. 

Hesitantly, Ben reaches out to touch her face, frowning as his hand doesn’t connect, turning into blue energy and the cold touch she was familiar with. 

Seeing his hand, an idea sparks in her head, her hand dropping from her mouth as she breathed heavily. 

“Can I… can I try something?” She asks carefully, him instantly nodding at her plan before she could even describe it to him. 

Taking a deep breath, Melanie held her hands together, concentrating on using as little power as possible as she felt her veins ignite, the dark purple glow illuminating them both. 

Slowly, Melanie lifts her hand to his face, a small cry leaving her as her skin connects with his, him instantly melting into her touch as she pulls him into a hug, holding him tighter than she has ever held anyone before. 

Ben let out the deepest breath he had ever felt as he buries his face in her hair, her cries shaking them both as they stood together in the hallway. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” She cries into his chest, hands gripping onto the familiar leather jacket she loved to steal when he was younger. 

“I know,” He replies sadly, hand reaching up to stroke her hair, the easiest way to calm her crying, “I’m sorry." 

"Sorry?” She pulls away slightly, looking up to him with confusion written all over her face. 

“I should have paid more attention, I should have run away when you asked me, I should have done things differently-” He rambles, Melanie’s heart breaking as she realises. 

Ben blamed himself for what happened. 

“Ben, oh god Ben, none of it was your fault, you hear me?” She reassures, hand resting on his face so his attention was completely on her, not that it would be anywhere else anyway. 

“What happened, it was because of Reginald. We all know that. No one has ever blamed you, please don’t blame yourself.” She pleads with him. 

“I… I’ll try not to, I promise.” He smiles, his grin bringing one to Melanie’s own face as he pulled her in again, her heart feeling a sense of peace for the first time in as long as she could remember. 

And within a single moment, the entire day is gone. 

chapter eight coming monday, oct 5th

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 13: Moving in

And here's chapter 13 everyone! The climax for the arc is coming soon, so hold onto your Puppets everyone!

Although I may or may not put up Happy Times episode 3 first, depends on what I feel like writing these next two weeks. So, y'know, keep an eye out. :D

The next day started easily enough. Will and Stacy ate breakfast, and the set up the bedroom for Scout to stay in. Stacy saw no point in forcing the Puppet to hide in a bag all day again, when they could simply let her stay in the bedroom instead. She set up the laptop with Netflix, and made sure the Switch was all charged up for her to play on when she got bored of movies. She even asked what kind of snacks she'd want, though that didn't get a reply.

Still, they managed to get her settled in and locked the door just in time for Lisa and Mason to show up. Though Lisa was more than a little curious about it.

"So." The blonde started, quirking an eyebrow. "Why'd you lock the bedroom door?" Her tone was teasing, but Stacy felt a cold rush of fear from what she might think if she found Scout. Would Lisa run? Or would she be violent to Scout? Or worse, would she want to play dress up with her?

No. Under no circumstances should Lisa find out about the Puppet. Not yet, and not now.

"It's just a mess from last night, so we figured we'd be polite about it." Stacy told her, the lie she'd practiced coming easily. Will knew the story too, and had even checked it for holes.

"Oh, please, you two are as vanilla as fresh milk." Lisa countered, and Stacy panicked. The one thing they hadn't considered! "What are you hiding in there? A puppy? Or maybe a kitten?" She looked excited, and Stacy could feel a headache coming on.

"Nothing you need to see, Lisa." Will told her as he walked past. "Now, are you gonna help us out or not? I want to get this done today, so I don't have to pay extra for the truck."

"Fine, fine. But I am so gonna find out what you guys are hiding in there!" She promised. Stacy just scoffed as they followed Will outside.

"Good luck." Was all she said, even knowing Lisa would only take it as a challenge. She had faith, though, that her friend wouldn't be able to beat it.

Not that it stopped her from trying, of course. Lisa was nothing if not determined.

And so, in between carrying boxes into Will's house, the attempted to see what was in the bedroom. It started simple, with just trying to see through the keyhole or under the door. And then Mason caught her outside, trying to look in the window.

"Okay Lees, seriously?! Are you high? Because this seems like the kind of thing only High Lisa would do." He scolded as he dragged her back inside by the arm. Luckily Will and Stacy weren't nearby, or she'd be getting a double helping of Disappointed Glaring. No, they were getting ready to go buy everyone Subway, which was real nice of them if you asked Mason.

"Lil bit." She admitted. "But don't you wanna know what Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla think is kinky?" Mason just sighed, rubbing his eyes as she continued. "I'll bet they aren't, really. I think they adopted a pet! Which would be really weird for Stacy, since she doesn't like animals."

"You're such a fucking motormouth when you get high." He groaned before practically flinging her into the armchair in the living room. He grabbed his phone and put on a random YouTube video. "Watch that and try to sober up a bit, okay? And no more trying to look in their bedroom, you fucking weirdo."

"Yeah okay..." She mumbled, already entranced by the cat video. Mason smirked as he went back outside to see their friends off and double check the U haul for any forgotten boxes. He caught them just as they were getting into Will's car.

"We'll be back soon." Will said as Stacy climbed in the passenger seat. He himself was already in the driver's seat, food list clutched in one hand. "Stay out of our bedroom. And my basement."

"Will do boss!" Mason agreed, then watched them go. He checked the truck, finding no boxes. He closed the door, then went back inside to wait for Will and Stacy to return.

He went to the living room, only to find Lisa not where he left her. the only thing on the arm chair was his cell phone, neatly placed in the very center. He swore and picked it, shoving it in his pocket as he rushed to the bedroom door. She was there, of course, kneeling in front of it as she picked the lock. She looked up as he approached, looking quite cheery.

"Now's our chance!" She hissed excitedly as she worked the door. Mason grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away even as she kept working.

"Lees, no! You don't know what could be in there!" He insisted, but she pulled back. He didn't fight her too hard, not wanting to hurt her, but she was quite obviously out of her mind.

"C'mon Mason! Don't tell me you're not curious!" She grinned as she broke free, and finished unlocking the door. "Ooooh, what if it's that weird occult stuff they're into? That could be fun."

"No, it wouldn't!" Mason had seen things, back when Will had first started his hunting hobby. Things that still gave him nightmares sometimes. "We shouldn't open that door."

"Too late!" Lisa exclaimed gleefully, shoving it open and peering inside. Despite his protests, Mason did too, curious as to what exactly Will would allow to be kept in his bedroom.

'Maybe it is just a puppy or something. God I hope that's all it is.' He thought desperately, tensed to run at the first sign of trouble.

For a long moment, nothing happened. There was no movement, and the bedroom looked just like it always did, though with an open laptop and a Switch on the bed. Mason sighed in relief, and went to close the door.

"See? Nothing there except a computer and Nintendo. Now, let's close the door and lock up again before they get back and we get in trouble." He closed the door, completely missing the small figure that sneaked out as he did so.

"Pfft, lame." Lisa knelt down and began to try and re-lock the door. "I thought for sure there'd be a dildo or something on the floor, at the very least!"

"Yeah, well, there's not. So let's never mention this to anyone ever, okay?" Mason asked, turning and going into the kitchen, only to freeze at what he saw there.

"Ugh, fiiiine!" The blonde groaned as she finished up. She stood up, only to find her friend standing stock still in front of the kitchen counter. "Uh, Mason?" She joined him, only to stop and stare too.

"Nobody fucking move!" It was a small blue hand puppet with purple hair. It was pointing  a large kitchen cleaver straight at them, and glaring with angry yellow eyes. It looked mad, madder than Mason could remember any other doll looking.

And it was the cutest thing Lisa had ever seen.

"You're so adorable!" She squealed, making both puppet and Mason jump. The puppet readjusted it's grip, now pointing the knife at her while Mason stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He yelled. "We're being mugged by a possessed puppet, and you think it's cute?! Lisa!"

"But look at it! It's got little mitten hands, and some of the most realistic hair I've ever seen! It's so cute!" She reached for it, only drawing back when it swung the knife wildly at her hands. "Aw, I can't believe Stacy never told me about you!"

"How fucking high are you?!" Mason asked at the same the Puppet yelled "Get the hell out of my house!"

A dull thump sounded behind them, and the two humans turned to see Will staring at the Puppet in shock, Subway bags on the floor around him. "She has a knife." He muttered, sounding just a little bit broken. "Why does she have a knife? I  hid all the knives."

Stacy came charging around him, more bags hanging from her arm. She went right pass Mason and Lisa, and grabbed the knife away from the Puppet. She set it down on the counter then grabbed the Puppet up and hugged her close, though she resisted.

"They broke into the bedroom!" She insisted, jabbing a mitten hand at the two. "They broke in! I didn't break out, I swear!" Her voice held a desperate edge to it, one that made Lisa feel bad for being curious at all. For one white hot second, she worried Stacy might be the type to punish the poor thing for this.

"Scout- Scout it's fine! I'm not mad." Stacy turned to glare at Lisa. "At you, anyways." She finished, a stern tone to her voice. Lisa knew immediately she had to try and defuse the situation.

"Aw, c'mon Stace! You can't fault me for thinking you guys were hiding something in there. And, I was right! You were hiding this adorable little thing! How could you do that to me Stacy?" She gave puppy dog eyes, but her friend just sighed.

"You're lucky I only have one hand, or I'd smack you." She deadpanned.

"Fair enough." The blonde grinned. "Let me make it up to you. I can make this little cutie some new shirts, so she's not wearing that filthy one all the time."

Stacy paused. She... didn't actually know if Scout could take off her shirt. She supposed she could always wear any new ones over it, but wasn't sure.

"I don't know..." Stacy said out loud. She looked over to where Mason was helping Will pick up their food, a quiet conversation passing between them. She wasn't too sure what they were talking about, but figured it had to be Scout.

"Aw, c'mon! It shouldn't be too hard. What is she, about American Girl doll size? I make clothes in that size all the time for my sisters."

"...I'll think about it." Stacy finally said, as Scout climbed up onto her shoulder, and to the top of her head. The Puppet pulled on her hair, but Stacy was able to keep herself from reacting to the pain. It wasn't that bad, compared to what she'd been through already. And she didn't want to remove the Puppet anyways, in case she went back to being a recluse.

Lisa helped get some plates set up and distribute the food, chattering all the while about all the clothes she was going to make for Scout. Shirts, hats, even tiny mittens for when it got cold out. Scout found it all very absurd, although Stacy seemed interested in it.

'I'm not going to need those things anyways. Why is Stacy even humoring her?' Scout watched as the Hosts all sat and started to eat, still perched on her Host's head. She desperately wanted to try what they were eating, but turned away when Stacy offered her some. 'You don't even want to stay. No point in trying it anyway. Besides, it's just dumb Host feed.'

After lunch Mason and Lisa left for home, with Mason promising not to let Lisa have anymore weed. Meanwhile Will went to return the big truck they'd used, leaving Stacy and Scout alone. The Puppet took the time to look around, noting how many boxes there were stacked against the walls. Some of them had writing on them, but many were blank. Stacy sighed as she took in all the blank ones, hand on her hip.

"Would it really kill him to label things for once." She muttered, then gave Scout a grim look. "He did this when he moved up here. Didn't write down what was in a single box, and then ended up buying a lot of stuff he didn't need to simply because he couldn't find it." She grabbed a small knife out of her pocket, opening it with some difficulty, then jabbed it into one of the unmarked boxes. "Let's see which one of these has my comics in it..."

Scout watched her open the box from the couch, listening to the noises of frustration when what the Host wanted wasn't there. She wasn't deterred, though, and quickly moved to the next unlabeled box after scrawling on the newly opened one with a smelly black marker. Each new box held either a groan of frustration, or a shout of excitement as Stacy searched through each one for what she needed.

"Y'know, this is almost like Christmas. Except, more annoying cause I'm trying to find my stuff, rather than getting new stuff." She said after a while of of box opening. She finished writing and turned to the Puppet, who was absorbed in one of the comics she'd found. Speaking of, we'll probably be going to my grandpa's cabin with my family for Christmas this year. I should probably figure out how to tell them about you."

"Why?" Scout asked. She didn't see a point to

"Well, you'd be coming with us, obviously." Stacy told her, and the Puppet felt herself freeze up at the implication. The Host didn't notice. "My brother, Danny, he's gonna love you!"

'No I'm not.' She thought sadly as the human rambled on about her brother. 'I'm not going anywhere else if I can help it.'

Her plan had been working, quite well actually. She'd felt tired, lethargic even. And each movement had felt more and more difficult as time passed, to the point where she'd been sure it was about to end any day.

And then Stacy's fucking friends had opened the fucking door, and Stacy had grabbed her. Now she felt stronger than ever, and her plan was ruined.

No, she realized suddenly, while Stacy continued talking about her parents, not entirely ruined. She remembered something Riley had told her, before she'd been stitched to her very first Host. The bond relied on physical contact, but also proximity. Her energy would drain faster if she was further away.

"Hey, Host." She piped up, interrupting the human, who turned to look at her with a confused(and slightly hurt, but Scout ignored that) expression.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, still bent over a half opened box. When Scout didn't answer immediately she started to get worried and straightened up. "What? Is something wrong?"

For a moment, Scout didn't speak, staring down at the colorful pages spread out in front of her. She didn't want to do this, but wasn't any other choice. Not for her, anyways. Never for her.

'No turning back now. This Puppet's going down! Before anyone else gets hurt...'

"Do you think we could have a window open tonight?"

[morwenna-crows]

Seasons of War: American Cover + Two Chapter Preview

The American cover for Seasons Of War was released today. 

There’s also a two chapter preview, which I’ve put under the cut, because long.

1.

Red candles, maybe a dozen of them. Brick walls. Lot of rafters, lot of shadows, lots of big, empty patches of darkness. Wooden floor. She was in a cellar, a big one, upright against something metal. She could feel the struts digging into her back. Her arms were over her head, wrists bound with rope. Ankles tied, too. 

Her tongue tasted sour. They’d drugged her. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. Her head was dull. She shot a little magic through her system and her mind cleared instantly. 

She wondered if her make-up had been smudged. She hoped it hadn’t. It had taken ages to put on. Her shoes were gone. Good. They were awful. She was still in the dress, though, the one that was too small and too tight and not very practical. It did have one thing going for it, however – the amulet of dark metal, in the shape of a skull, that fitted against her hip like some cool- looking clasp. 

She raised her head slightly, gave her surroundings a closer inspection through the hair that hung over her face. Pedestals displayed occult paraphernalia in glass cases like this was some- one’s idea of a black magic museum, and good quality – though obviously plastic – skeletons, dressed in rags, hung from shackles along the walls. The ground was sticky against her bare feet. She was positioned in the exact centre of a pentagram painted on the floorboards. She was pretty sure the dark stains had been made by copious splashes of blood. 

“She’s awake,” someone said in the darkness ahead of her. “Hey, she’s awake. Get the others.” 

The sound of feet on wooden steps, and then yellow light flooded in from above. A large shadow flowed across the light and then the cellar door closed and she was left with the flickering red candles and whoever had spoken. 

He came forward, out of the darkness. Dressed in a red robe with the hood up. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was gentle. American. Warm. 

“Valkyrie,” she said. 

“Valerie?” 

“Valkyrie. With a K.” 

“That’s a nice name. Unusual. Is it Irish?” 

“Norwegian.” 

“Oh. My friend said you were from Ireland.” 

“I am. My name isn’t.” 

“Ah.” He stepped a bit closer. She could see the lower half of his face, his square jaw and his even white teeth. 

“You’re probably freaking out right now. I get that. I do. You wake up, you’re in a dark cellar, you see satanic stuff all around, you probably think you’re going to be horribly butchered in some ridiculous human-sacrifice ritual, yeah?” He pulled his hood down and his smile broadened. “Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” 

“I know you,” said Valkyrie. 

“Do you?” 

“You’re that actor,” she said. “From that movie. You’re Jason Randal.” 

“You want an autograph?” 

“How about a selfie? If you could just hand me my phone...” 

He laughed. “Oh, I like you. That’s an impressive response. Usually, the girls we sacrifice are full of panicked questions at this stage, like they think they can make sense of what’s happening. Like they can’t bring themselves to believe that they’re about to be murdered.” 

“What was that movie you were in, with the guy from The Big Lebowski?” 

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I haven’t been in a film with—” 

“No, you know the one. You both play dead cops who are still, like, solving crimes and stuff? You’re not zombie cops, or ghost cops, but... what’s it called? I want to say RIP, but...” 

Jason’s smile faded. “RIPD,” he said. 

“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “That was a terrible movie. Why did you make that?” 

He scratched his jaw. “That was Ryan Reynolds. You’re thinking of Ryan Reynolds.” 

“That wasn’t you?” 

“No.” 

Valkyrie frowned. “Are you sure?” 

“I think I know what films I’ve been in.” 

“I could have sworn it was you.” 

“Well, it wasn’t.” 

“It’s a terrible movie.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it and I wasn’t in it.” 

“It’s bad.” 

“Then how about we stop talking about it?” 

“Are you ashamed of it because it’s so bad?” 

“I wasn’t in it.” 

Valkyrie looked at him. “Maybe if you had a better agent you’d get better movies.” 

Yellow light flooded the cellar and shadows moved, cast by the three people coming down the steps, all dressed in red robes. 

“Is the Master here?” Jason Randal asked them, annoyance pinching his words. 

“He’s on his way,” the woman in front said. Her name escaped 

Valkyrie, but these days she was always being cast as the girlfriend or the wife of the hero. A few years ago, however, she’d headlined a few movies herself. Not bad movies, either. The guy behind her, one of the stars of a dreadful sitcom Valkyrie had pretended to like, was the one who’d bought her the spiked drink in the crowded bar. She recognised the last person – an actor in a TV show she’d never watched who had a ridiculous name that she couldn’t remember. 

The woman had an amazing smile and incredible bone struc- ture and wonderful hair. It shone in the candlelight. “I take it Jason has explained what’s going to happen,” she said. 

“Don’t bother with this one,” Jason said, somewhat grumpily. “She’s not that bright.” 

Valkyrie ignored him. “I’m a huge fan,” she said. “Aw, thank you.” “That film where you were out for revenge on the men who’d killed your husband? That was brilliant.” 

“That’s really sweet of you to say so. I did a lot of my own stunts for that one.” 

“The fight scenes were excellent.” The woman smiled at the others. “Do we have to kill her? She has such great taste!” 

The others chuckled – all except Jason. He didn’t chuckle even a little bit. 

“We should do it now,” he said. The woman frowned at him. Victoria, that was her name. Victoria Leigh. “Before the Master gets here?” 

“It’s almost midnight. We’ll have to do it anyway, with or without him.” 

“The Master will not be pleased,” said the sitcom star. 

“Then the Master should be on time for the human sacrifice,” Jason snapped back. “The rest of us are all here, aren’t we? And we have careers. I have to be on set in two hours, and don’t you have an early call tomorrow?” 

“I do have an early call,” murmured the sitcom star. Victoria checked the slender gold watch on her slender pale wrist. “OK, fine, get everything ready to go. We’ll wait till the last second. If the Master arrives in time, excellent. If he doesn’t, we’ll do it ourselves on the stroke of midnight.” 

The others nodded and went off to fetch whatever they needed to fetch. Victoria stepped closer, though, brushing Valkyrie’s hair back off her face. 

“You’re a pretty one,” she said. “Not leading-lady beautiful, perhaps, but definitely girl-next-door pretty. And those shoulders! Good lord! Linebacker shoulders, that’s what we call them. I can see why Tadd picked you.” Her voice softened. “Was he respectful? I’ve warned him about this in the past.” 

“Pretty sure he was.” 

“Good. I’ve seen far too many girls being disrespected in my business and I’d hate to be a part of something that perpetuates this behaviour.” 

“Aren’t you lot going to murder me in a few minutes?” 

A little laugh. “I am aware of the contradiction.” 

“Good,” said Valkyrie. “Because I was worrying.” 

“I have to say... What’s your name?” 

“Valkyrie.” 

“Ah, from Norse mythology. Very nice. I have to say, Valkyrie, you’re surprisingly calm about this whole thing.” 

Valkyrie shrugged as much as she was able. “I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve been in worse situations.” 

“You have?” “It’s all worked out in the end.” “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.” 

“We’ll see.” “Indeed we will, Valkyrie. That’s a great attitude to have. We will indeed see. So tell me, what brings you out to LA? Aspiring actress?” 

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting into stuntwork. I like being physical, you know? Throwing people around, crashing through windows, falling off rooftops... That’s my kind of thing.” 

“Oh, I admire stunt people so much, I really do. I know this great little team down in Glendale. Such a shame you’re dying tonight – someone as athletic as you, you’d have fit in perfectly.” 

“Can I ask you something? This Master guy you’re waiting on – who is he?” 

“You sure you want to know? Well, why the hell not – you won’t be telling anyone, right? He’s a sorcerer. He’s magic.” 

“Like one of those street magicians?” 

Victoria’s laugh was as pretty as her eyes. “No, no, not like those street magicians. I mean he’s actually, really, genuinely magic. He can move things just by waving his hands. He clicks his fingers and he’s holding a ball of fire in his palm.” 

“No kidding?” 

“I swear it’s true.” 

“And why does he make you sacrifice people?” 

“Well, he gets his power from Satan, you see. He’s Satan’s emissary here on earth. All of us in our little group, we’re the ones who sacrifice the girls and, as a reward, Satan grants the Master the power to fulfil our wildest dreams.” 

“Golly,” said Valkyrie. 

“I know.” 

“And does it work? Do your wildest dreams come true?” 

Victoria made a seesawing motion with her hand. “It’s not an exact science. We get a lot of callbacks during pilot season, a lot of interest from casting agents and directors... but really Satan just opens the door. It’s up to us to walk through.” 

“Right, right,” said Valkyrie. “So Satan is real, then?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Wow. And that’s all he asks for? Human sacrifice?” 

“Yes. And a commission.” 

“A commission?” 

“That goes to the Master. For living expenses, you know.” 

“So the Master gets a cut of whatever you make? How big a cut?”

Victoria hesitated. “Forty per cent.” 

“Seriously?” 

“But it’s worth it. Tadd wouldn’t have got that sitcom if it wasn’t for the Master, and I’m on a shortlist for the role of a wartime correspondent. It’s based on a true story and the script has a lot of buzz around it right now.” 

“Good luck with that one. I hope you get it.” 

“Thank you.” The others came back. Tadd held a candelabra of seven long- stemmed, unlit black candles, and the other one, the actor whose ridiculous name Valkyrie couldn’t remember, carried a box of polished oak. Jason Randal opened the box, and took out a long, curved dagger. The corners of his mouth lifted when he looked at Valkyrie. 

“We still have two minutes,” Victoria said. 

“She needs to be dead at midnight,” Jason responded. “I know the rules.” 

“We should do it now, to be sure she dies.” 

“We’ll do it at eleven fifty-nine. So long as you stab her in the heart, she’ll be dead in seconds. Light the ceremonial candles.” 

The ridiculously named actor put the box down and came hurrying over, digging through his robes. He produced a silver Zippo, flicked it open and ran the flint wheel along his thigh. It sparked to a flame, and he put the flame to the seven black candles. Tadd held the candelabra aloft. 

“The candles,” he said, “are lit.” 

“The dagger,” Jason intoned, “is sharp.” “The time,” Victoria said, eyes on her watch, “is now.” 

2.

Jason grinned and raised the dagger and then the seven candles went out. 

“Oh,” said Tadd. “Sorry.” 

Jason glared. “Relight them.” The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open again, ran it across his leg again, and lit the candles again. 

Sheepishly, Tadd held the candelabra aloft once more. “The candles are lit.” 

Then they went out again. “For God’s sake,” Jason muttered. 

“Are you standing in a draught or something?” Victoria asked. “Move over there, and don’t hold them up so high this time. Come on, we’re running out of time. Relight them.” 

The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open. “I swear,” said Jason, “if you run that up your leg one more time, I am stabbing you instead of this girl. Do you understand? Just light the damn candles.” 

The actor narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to be a—” 

“Light the candles, Maverick!” said Jason and Victoria at the same time. 

Maverick. That was his name. Maverick Reels. What a silly name. Not that someone who’d called herself Valkyrie Cain could throw stones, but still. 

As Maverick fumbled with the Zippo, the cellar door opened and a man swept down the stairs. “Hail Satan!” he cried. 

“Hail Satan!” the others cried back. 

“Hail Satan,” Valkyrie added, just to be in with the cool kids. 

“Midnight is almost upon us!” said the Master, summoning fire into his hand and passing it over the candelabra, lighting each wick. “Why does this girl still live? Kill her! Deliver her soul to the Dark Lord!” 

“Voldemort?” Valkyrie asked, frowning. The Master pulled down his hood. He didn’t look like a Master. He looked like a mid-level office manager with a bad goatee. He peered at her. “Do I know you?” 

“Do you?” 

“I’ve seen you before.” 

“Have you?” 

“I’ve seen your photograph,” he said. 

“Where have you seen it?” 

“I’m trying to remember,” he said. 

“Think hard now.” 

“Stop talking.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t even me,” Valkyrie said. “Was it a photo taken in a burning city? Then it wasn’t me. It was a god who just looked like me.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh, no.” Valkyrie’s magic crackled, white lightning dancing around her wrists and ankles, burning through the ropes. 

Panicking, the Master grabbed the dagger from Jason just as one of the skeletons in rags stepped away from the wall and seized his wrist. 

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” Skulduggery said, and everyone in the little group of satanic worshippers screamed and leaped away as he punched the Master right on the hinge of his jaw. 

The Master’s knees buckled and he collapsed into Skulduggery’s arms, and Valkyrie broke free of the scaffolding holding her and followed the actors as they scrambled up the cellar steps. 

She caught Maverick just as the door crashed open, pulling him off the steps. He flailed madly and she ducked as he spun, then clocked him right on the chin. He stiffened and pitched backwards. Valkyrie left him there and ran after the others. 

She emerged from the cellar into an impressively big house – a movie star’s house. Lots of glass and exposed brick and open spaces. She followed the sounds of panic to the front door, where Jason and Victoria and Tadd were cursing each other as they tried to navigate the locks. 

They heard her coming. Tadd let out a roar and came charging. He was shorter than Valkyrie, and skinnier, and she stepped into him, stopping him with a shoulder. He staggered a little and her fingers curled into his hair and she smacked his face against the painting on the wall over and over until he fell down. 

Victoria ran into another room as Jason Randal dropped his robe and squared up to Valkyrie. He was big. He had muscles. He moved like he knew what he was doing, or he’d at least worked with fight choreographers – but when he threw the first punch it was stiff and awkward and badly judged, and it stopped a good hand’s length short of where it needed to land. He didn’t have a clue, and this wasn’t worth bruising her knuckles over, so Valkyrie blasted him with a little lightning that threw him back against the door. He fell in a crumpled, unconscious heap and she went after Victoria. She was standing in the huge living room holding a poker like a baseball bat. 

“This isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good, is it?” she asked after a moment. 

Valkyrie gave a shrug, and Victoria sighed, and put the poker down. 

“Was that an actual skeleton I saw downstairs, or was it some sort of special effect?” 

“It was a skeleton. He’s alive and he talks. His name’s Skulduggery.” 

“Of course it is,” Victoria said, and took a seat, wearily, on the couch. “So you’re a sorcerer, too, are you?” 

“Yep.” 

“You a Satanist also?” 

Valkyrie sat opposite, and crossed her legs. “That guy’s not a Satanist. None of us are Satanists. Magic has got nothing to do with religion. Those people you sacrificed? The devil didn’t collect their souls. Those people just died.” 

Victoria took a while before answering. “But then why did the Master tell us to do it?” 

“Well, seeing as how all this is about money, I’m guessing that in order to get the lot of you to really commit, the idiot you call Master made you kill a bunch of innocent people so you couldn’t change your minds and back out at a later date.” 

Victoria’s face slackened. “We didn’t have to kill those girls?” 

“Nope.” 

“But... but our careers... How did he—?” 

“There’s a trick sorcerers can do once they know the name you were born with. They can tell you to do stuff. Not big stuff, not life-changing stuff – he wouldn’t have been able to coax a whole lot of money out of you that way – but he could certainly have suggested to casting agents that it’d be a good idea to call you in for a second audition, things like that.” 

“Oh my God...” 

“Yep.” 

“What... what’s going to happen to me now?” 

“You’re going to jail.” 

“I should call my attorney.” 

“You won’t need an attorney,” said Valkyrie. “You’re going to one of our jails. All four of you will disappear. No one will know where you are.” 

“But my family... My fans...” 

“They’ll never see you again.” 

Victoria stared at her. “You can’t do that.” 

“By our estimation, you’ve murdered sixteen young women between the four of you. We might be wrong. You might have murdered more.” 

“But the Master told us we had to.” 

“Stop calling him Master. He’s just some low-level sorcerer who couldn’t be bothered doing the work of a real agent so he invented this Satanist thing to make some money out of you morons. And I don’t care what he told you. You had a choice. You could have chosen not to murder sixteen innocent young women. Obviously, that’s not the road you decided to go down.” 

Victoria sat forward, elbows on her knees, hands hidden by the voluminous sleeves of her robe, evidently processing what she could. “I can’t go to jail,” she said slowly. “I’m on a shortlist. That part could win me an Oscar.” She straightened up. She had a gun in her hand. “I’m really sorry.” 

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react. 

“Sorcerers aren’t bulletproof, are they?” Victoria asked. 

“No, we’re not,” said Valkyrie. 

“I’m really sorry about this.” 

“Are you, though?” 

Victoria thumbed back the hammer. It made a pleasing little click. “I’m not the best shot in the world,” she said, “but I’m not bad, either. That revenge movie I was in? My firearms coach told me I was a natural. But, even if I were the worst shot in the world, I couldn’t miss from this range even if I wanted to.” 

“Oh, I bet you could if you tried.” 

“Will a gun kill your skeleton friend?” 

“Not that gun.” 

“Then I’ll just kill you.” 

Valkyrie tapped the amulet on her hip and the black suit spread outwards, covering her skin and her clothes, flowing down to her feet and to her fingertips before Victoria’s eyes could even finish widening. 

The gun went off. The bullet hit Valkyrie in the belly and she grunted, sitting forward slightly. She pulled the hood up as a second bullet struck her chest. Christ, that stung. Her fingers found the mask in the hood and she pulled it down and felt it turn solid over her face as Victoria stood and proceeded to empty the gun into her. Valkyrie wondered what the skull mask looked like today. 

Every time she pulled it down, it was slightly different than the time before. It was like Skulduggery’s façade in that way. Victoria’s final bullet hit Valkyrie in the forehead, making the mask reverberate. Valkyrie stood up. 

“I thought you said you weren’t bulletproof,” Victoria said quietly, the gun hanging uselessly by her side. 

“I’m not,” Valkyrie responded, brushing a squashed bullet from her chest. “The suit is. I was going to give you the option of leaving this house in cuffs, as opposed to unconscious, but...” 

“But I just tried to kill you?” 

Valkyrie shrugged, took the gun away from her. 

“Please,” Victoria said, “not the face.” 

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, and hit her in the face anyway.