#the intimacy and trust in their hands!!! like her dragging him up the stairs in gif seven

[pearlcaddy]

locklyle + hands: part 2 [part 1]

[slashbitch2]

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here?  It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

[nayutai]

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last. 

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well! 

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly. 

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth. 

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there. 

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general. 

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall. 

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s  wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore. 

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave. 

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well. 

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage. 

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. 

“I don��t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it. 

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all. 

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that. 

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts. 

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit. 

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.” 

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city. 

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags. 

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut. 

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside. 

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make. 

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him. 

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.” 

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later. 

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her. 

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.  

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch. 

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.” 

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight. 

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is. 

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game. 

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.” 

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level. 

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.” 

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own. 

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore. 

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage. 

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again. 

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch. 

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.” 

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates.  Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days. 

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic. 

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb. 

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen. 

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up. 

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new. 

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight. 

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this. 

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time. 

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch. 

“Oh shit.” 

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule. 

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made. 

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling. 

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room. 

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that. 

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been. 

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell. 

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower. 

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind. 

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at. 

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin. 

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put. 

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in. 

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened. 

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him. 

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?” 

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out. 

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.” 

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead. 

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist. 

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet. 

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void. 

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up. 

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace. 

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind. 

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom. 

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.” 

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.” 

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either. 

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation. 

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse. 

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time. 

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together. 

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment. 

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions. 

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning. 

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too? 

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom. 

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist. 

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them. 

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely. 

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water.  The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss. 

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment. 

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom. 

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated. 

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin. 

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details. 

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them  until their follow-up appointment in a few days. 

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent. 

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time. 

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary. 

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own. 

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?” 

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” 

[honestsycrets]

The Gilded Cage VIII: Sestra, Sestra

❛ pairing | ivar x rus!reader, brother!oleg x sister!reader

❛ type | multi, square Peach for Ivar.

❛ summary | ivar just wants to be free of her to start over again. too bad she’s not done with him.

❛ story tags | impotency, anxiety, PTSD, nsfw, trickery (Oleg), angst, sibling incest (one way), obsessed Oleg, angry Oleg, jealous Oleg, deceit, Rus Princess!reader, general jealousy, time period ableism, manipulation, psychotic Oleg, hallucinations, exhibitionism, mention of death, mention of spousal abuse, voyeurism, arranged marriage within family, platonic!igor x reader, ivar4b-age!igor, spanking, discipline, fingering, assault, aftercare, obsession.

❛ sy’s notes | look at the tags before reading. Sestra: Sister, I used proto-slavic even though that was a bit off.

The first kiss is reminiscent of the plump peaches Oleg has imported from the south for you. Modestly sweet, strange, delicious against his tongue. The first time Ivar trusts you-- but really, really trusts you, it’s as if a hundred peacock butterflies have set off in his stomach, fluttering wings and all, rustling around in his belly.

He shifts, his naked belly between your thighs, leaning up against your dress. Only one layer separates you from him, and in that beauty, Ivar groans. It isn’t as if you are one of those women-- one of the ones at home with thin layers and thinner morals. 

You took pride in your veil, your long dresses, something fitted a little looser, vests and capes of rich silver furs. For a woman with such morals to be stripped down-- a Christian woman-- you knew how he felt about it. He didn’t simply like it. He was hungry for it. 

“Is it too tight--?” you ask modestly, climbing down his body. 

“I’m fine.” 

What now? He lays there, chest heaving, cognizant of the candles flickering light all around him. Any one of the guards could lend a spear to run him through with. To crawl in bed with a Christian, his blood runs cold as he thinks of what Floki would say. He has truly disobeyed his gods as a god. From behind the strip of cloth over his eyes, everything is a cloth black. He wishes he hadn’t done this. He wishes he hadn’t--

“Ivar,” you whisper so gently, and everything is easy. It’s too easy and good, and that gives him a chill. Fingertips ghost over his chest, drawing to one side to the other. It must make you feel like a queen to have the power you did. “Let go.”  

His world goes blank when he feels your clothes fall to the side of him. You sweep down, the tips of your breasts graze his chest-- and the thin fabric of your veil does too. He considers your hair tickling his skin, and for a moment everything felt right. 

He’d touch you if he could but with his hands above his head he as helpless to all the control he so desperately needed. Your thumb flicks, dragging over his nipple, and he jerks like a caged in wolf, rooting in the pillow under his cheek.

“Too much?” you ask him. 

“I’m not a woman,” he insists. You bite small nips between his chest. His teeth gnash. Between them, the smallest of moans rupture past his locked teeth. Those small, teasing bites are like some stupid game with his body. 

“How does it feel?” 

Your hand connects with his half hard erection and he chews on the right words mixed with frustration. You hook your pinky under the ties bouncing them loose. He’s surrounded by your soft words and the sweet care you take in undressing him. 

“I--” he groans, searching for the words to explain why-- he can’t. He dry heaves the air, pouring it out in one long gust. “Not yet.” 

Your hands settle over the top of his pants, and before long you’re molding your hand over his shape, because he’s-- he’s firm. You stop a moment, and he while he can’t see it, he hears it. His taut muscles tighten and roll as he feels you shift over him.

“I’m a little soft,” you whisper, like an absolute divine Christian angel. Your hips take to their own movement, grinding over him as if you were here to deliver him pleasure. Oleg-- his mind wanders, remembering the old fool and how protective your brother was.

If he were here… 

“I like it,” Ivar answers. “It’s-- nice.” 

You settle over him, balancing on your knees, rolling over him, and he’s aware of his body’s reaction. Swelling to firm hardness, that’s not the hard part-- the hard part was the work, and the expectation to keep up. He imagines you above him, your cheeks flaring in rushed embarrassment. You move against him, pretending that you knew what you were doing. Then he’d pretend like he knew what he was doing-- because he was a man. 

And he’s meant to know what to do, beyond his image, beyond being King Ivar the Boneless… Boneless. His tongue slides anxiously over his lip. Suddenly he can’t-- he can’t-- and you stop his train of thought by dragging nails past his toned chest. Images of Freydis soar into his mind. His hands jerk above his head, wheezing a heavy breath, catching air in forced gulps of panic. What’s wrong? you say. 

Your fingers pull at the rope around his hands, loosening it quick. Ivar thrusts himself forward and snatches the blindfold from his bright eyes, small in the expanse of the blue sclera, and you’re not sure what’s happened. Only that as he pushes you off to the side, leaning over the edge to catch his breath, it must be you. 

Everything rushes back to him. He’s not home, in his great wooden bed surrounded by familiar things. He’s here where guards kept out his door at night and the windows were high in the air, too far to jump from, and-- he’s Oleg’s glorified prisoner in this tower high above the ground.

Then there’s you. 

“I did something… wrong?” you suspire softly, but there’s no way that Ivar would answer the way he gulps air. He knows what you must be thinking. Something about you-- something about you was off-- and wrong to him to react in such a way. You sulk to the other side of the bed, drawing a white dress to make yourself decent. 

“Am I wrong?” 

His head turns, past the dry heaving that’s filled his head with an unnecessary amount of air, like he was up in the clouds with Oleg again-- his wretched laughing ringing his ears. You stand upright, not yet forgetting the horror that previously set on his face. Whatever had happened, you had fucked up, you had thrown him into the likes of a panic you had never seen on his handsome face. Ivar tucks a long brown chunk of air behind the shell of his ear. 

“Don’t go,” he reaches out, touching the hem of your dress with a hand that shook akin to crackling wildfire. It’s desperate to stop you. “It isn’t you.”

“Then what is it?” 

He stops then, lip curling, and responds. “...you…” breathless, he makes words, “...reminded me of her.” 

It doesn’t register at first. No, it could have been anyone that he was talking about. He looks at you with such conviction and truth that immediately thereafter, you realize that it is his wife he means. That the whole time you were there, with him, this woman had been sinking through his brain. Suddenly whatever pleasure you had in the intimacy of the moment with him has shriveled there. The moment has drawn cold. You bring your hands around your arms, forcing warmth to fill your body because it’s all you have to cling onto.

“Okay.” 

In his absence of a sufficient reply, you slip out of the room in a rushed half-formed plan to sink away from the room like the wind. Vasilli stands there. You’ve forgotten him in the presence of the man that sits on the heavy wooden stairs. His hands were clasped, gnawing on his knuckle. It registers with him all at once that you’ve slipped away from Ivar’s room not because of the noise, or a call, but because your sluggish steps brought you to collapse on top of him. Oleg’s mind halted, lip quivering apart in something of a shit eating smile, until he realizes that whatever had happened had been sufficient.

“Sestra.” 

The memory of his arms, the security of them when your father was pushing and pushing for marriage, until his “untimely” death solidified something strange in your mind. That whatever it was-- Oleg would take care of it. Because your Oleg was a safe haven, one where rebellious nature would always bring you back to him. The tears bubbled over your cheeks in hideous sniffles. 

“Sestra,” Oleg urged, bringing you to stand on legs limp like wet cloth. His voice wavers with a concealed happiness. Past your bubbling tears, the flicker of the torches that kept the hallway to Ivar’s room illuminated flickered. “Come, let us… go to your room. You can tell me what happened.” 

He carries you back to your rooms-- your mother’s before yours. It fails to come to your attention that Igor is nowhere to be found. Nor that woman who so captured Ivar’s love, attention, and arousal. It is lit in soft scented candles, each one flickering with warm shade. You find yourself face to face with Oleg, laying side to side, body to body. His dark eyes seem friendlier then they have in days, smoothing over your back over and over. 

“--of Katya? He could not--” 

“Please don’t mock him. Men don’t-- you know how prideful they are,” you say, your hand against his chest, pleading with him for the privacy of the moment. Oleg recalls your fondness for Ivar the cripple, and smiles justifiably. “I would not do that.” 

You look skeptically at him. 

“I am surprised, that is all.” He muses almost idly, although he focuses on you with clear purpose. “He has the very jewel of the Rus in his bed and he could not follow through with it.” 

“It is not obligation,” you blurt out. “It is love.” 

His eyes glitter in amusement as he looks into your wet ones, which have scarred over with the tears you kept spilling at the mention of Katya’s name. “Why is it that she has all the love and I none?” it’s a soft whisper, one that you must have thought he didn’t catch, but you needed to speak it. 

“Ah how dramatic. That isn’t true,” Oleg amends. His hands find your small waist, securing himself against you. “Perhaps you have all you need. You have my love.” 

You look at him with a bewildered frown, your eyes suddenly heavier with the pulsing behind your eyes, demanding more tears be shed. “It is not the same.” 

“It could be if you let me.” You blink, wet tears coating your lashes, and as you rub them away, he seizes the chance to come closer, on top of you. “I would move the very earth for you.” 

You don’t doubt that. You’ve seen it. Your father’s failed arrangement-- and his timely death. “I know, Oleg.” 

“Let me.” His palm slips your thighs apart, and your eyebrows press together, chasing the sensation of his broad palms slipping your thighs apart and in that place, he slips between your legs with cautious movement.

You really thought Ivar would be it.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44 @readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever @beyond-the-ashes @supernaturalvikingwhore @mblaqgi @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer @therealcalicali @rekdreams-fandom @moondustmemories @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery @strangunddurm @shookforyoojung @peachesnpisces @tierneygonzalez​ @hexqueensupreme @nohemi2500​ @queenmissfit​ @alicedopey​ @dmv49​ @sallylebecks @terrainhead​ @mybarnesmyhero​ @youurkryptonite​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @vikingsmania​ @looneytunes20033​ @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler​ @chinduda​ @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods​ @ilvebeenabad​ @queenbeeta​ @wonderlandofsu​

[ikemencrossedmyth]

Fury Chapter 4:  To Catch a Villain

Pairing: Comte x reader

Fandom:  Ikemen Vampire

Summary:  Arthur, Theo, and Napoleon head to the bar to find more information on Jacques and William

Rating:  18+, some smut

Count:  3,005

Warnings:  vaginal sex, biting, blood drinking, drunk sex

AO3:  Chapter 4

Tumblr:  Part 1,  Part 2,  Part 3

Chapter 4:  To Catch a Villain

The two purebloods stared at each other in a somber silence.  The gravity of the situation was growing more urgent as time ticked on, it was a moment that held the possibility of extreme danger.  Leonardo opened his mouth and spoke in a hushed voice.

“We still have that man in the basement, what are we going to do about him?”

Comte’s expression changed. This was a whole new dilemma.  He had a mansion full of vampires, and there was a human in his basement.  A human that Leonardo had just assaulted in your defense.  

“We need to go down there and see to it that he does not find out our secret.  If he catches wind that we are vampires, it could spell doom for everyone that resides here.  We will question him about _____ and William.  Hopefully, William had enough sense to not give them any hints about our true nature.”

Leonardo nodded in agreement and followed Comte in the direction of the basement.  

 Meanwhile, in the dark streets of Paris, the three vampires headed straight for the pub.  Arthur was leading the way, seeing as he was the one that frequented the bar almost every night.  

“We’re going to go in there and try to find out as much information as possible.  Remember, the two bloke’s names are Jacques and Pierre. Leonardo took care of Pierre, so we are still on the lookout for Jacques, and of course any information on William.”

Theo and Napoleon gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.  The three vampires entered the pub and separated to different sections, each in search of any information.  Upon entering Arthur heard a sound to the left.  It was a table full of young women who had immediately spied Arthur in the pub. It was no secret that Arthur was a skirt chaser and often had his fill of beautiful Parisian women, all in exchange for an unforgettable night in the sheets.  The young ladies batted their eyes at Arthur and waved him over to their table, swaying in the warmth that an evening of alcohol had produced.  Arthur flashed them a debonair smile and headed over to the young women, who were growing hot and feverish at Arthur’s presence.

Napoleon gave a quick look over to Arthur’s direction to see how his investigation was going and rolled his eyes as he audibly exhaled.  

“Does this man know no bounds?  Even at a time like this, he is drawn to women like a moth to a flame.”

Arthur in the meantime, was scanning the women at the table as he sat in the lone empty seat.  The women were all trying to talk at the same time, each of them wanting Arthur’s attentions.  But there was only one woman that Arthur was looking at:  Marie.  A beauty would be an understatement to describe her appearance.  She had on a wine-red dress with black accents, and a corset that accentuated her cleavage.  An ornate necklace lay on her chest, with the medallion just shy of dipping between her breasts.  Her skin was smooth and without blemish as her beautiful hair flowed and framed her delicate face in soft curls.   She was a lady that had several a passionate night with many men of the town.  Arthur knew this to be a fact, but not one that he ever thought much of.  He was indiscriminate in handing out tokens of his love and intimacy as well.  

“If anyone knows anything about William or that fellow Jacques, Marie will know.” Arthur thought to himself.    

Arthur looked into Marie’s eyes as she stared back at him longingly.  She took a finger and put it to the top of her neck and slowly trailed it down to her open collar, bringing attention to her breasts.  Her smile told Arthur that she knew what she was doing. Arthur was also playing the game, a game he excelled in.  He took a slender hand and gracefully ran it through his smooth locks, tilting his head to one side.  

“Mademoiselle, you look beautiful as ever.  Has anyone told you that today?” Arthur said, looking at Marie through hooded lids.   Marie parted her red lips, darting out her tongue to wet her full lips before speaking.  

“Monsieur, you give me too much credit, can’t you see that it’s you that everyone is excited for?”

Arthur looked around the table at the other women, who were now hung up on the conversation that he and Marie were having, their glossy eyes darting back and forth between the two. A couple of them trying to hide their drunken hiccups in an attempt to hear more of their conversations.  

“Ah, I see I have an audience of the finest ladies Paris has to offer, but alas it will have to wait for another night.  I have important business with Marie tonight, please forgive me.”  Arthur gave his heartfelt apologies to the women.  

“No, please stay with us!” One lady pouted, twirling her hair in her fingers.  

“Don’t go!  We’ll make it worth your while.”  Another one said, laying a hand on Arthur’s forearm.  

“I’m sorry, I really must be going.  But I promise that I will more than make up for it the next time we meet.  I guarantee all of you a night that you won’t forget.”  Arthur said, getting up from his seat, motioning a hand to Marie, all while sending a wink to the rest of ladies causing them to let out a loud squeal in the bar.  The ladies chatter grew with excitement as they talked amongst each other of the wonderful night that Arthur surely had in store for each of them.  

Arthur took Marie’s hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss, brushing his lips over the back of her hand.  She took a quick breath when she felt his lips grazing her skin.  How badly she wanted his lips in a different place. She looked at Arthur and with a charming smile said,

“I have a place upstairs you know.  Would you like to come up and see?”

“Mademoiselle, if you bring me to your place, be warned that I will be doing much more than looking. I might not be able to keep my hands to myself.” He said as he brought his face closer to hers, hooking a finger under her chin.  Marie looked into Arthur’s eyes and reached up a hand to grab his, tugging it along behind her and started heading for the stairs.  

Theo had been watching from a distance, all while trying to find information, but with no luck.  He watched as Arthur followed behind Marie. He stopped Arthur right before getting to the stairs, and with a squeeze of his hand on his shoulder whispered,

“What are you doing? This is not the time for this!”

“Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.” Arthur whispered, continuing to be dragged along by Marie up the stairs.  Theo looked over to Napoleon and shrugged his shoulders.  Napoleon shook his head and turned around, deciding that it was up to himself and Theo now to find the information.  He was chatting up the bar staff, trying to glean any information from them, or from any of the many conversations that were going on around him.

 Upstairs, Marie was pulling Arthur into her designated room.  Once inside, Arthur grabbed Marie and pushed her up against the wall, pressing himself into her soft body.  He leaned down into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.  

“You smell absolutely divine, Marie.”

Arthur began to kiss and suck gently at her pulse point, relishing in the meal that he would sure soon receive.  Marie thrust out her chest, revealing more of her neck to Arthur’s ministrations.  Her hands came up to grab wildly at his shirt, gripping his clothes as she pulled him even closer to her, their hips grinding vigorously into each other.  She could feel Arthur’s cock hardening, his panting growing more intense by the second. Arthur reached around her back and started to undo her corset, causing her breasts to spill out into view.  The sight made Arthur’s cock twitch in anticipation.  He ducked down and took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her firm nipple, relishing in the taste of her skin.  He took her other nipple in between his fingers, rolling and pinching her pink bud.  

“Oh, Arthur!” Marie moaned, her lips parted, taking deep breaths as she succumbed to the frenzied ecstasy that Arthur was giving her.  He yanked on her dress, letting it pool to the floor, revealing her alluring body. She quickly moved her hands to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons all the way down to his trousers, as he continued to lick and suck on her breasts, smelling her blood coursing through her veins beneath her soft skin.  She finished the last button, Arthur’s toned chest came into view, causing her to take in a breath as she took in the handsome view before her.  He came back up and crashed his mouth into hers, their tongues swirling around each other as he took his straining dick out of his pants.  Marie pulled down her underwear, letting it fall to the ground with the rest of her clothes.  She quickly brought her hands down to his hard member and began to pump up and down, causing Arthur to groan out his pleasure into her mouth.  He thrust into her hand as he ran his hands down her back and let them rest on her backside, pulling her towards him.  Marie let go of his hot throbbing manhood and jumped up, wrapping her legs around Arthur as he slammed her into the wall.  She could feel the wood scraping against her skin, but the pain was mixed with the euphoric feeling of Arthur’s cock dipping in and out of her wet folds.  

“Arthur, hurry please.” She gasped into his mouth as she moved her hands from his shoulders to his back.

“Are you sure you want this Marie?”  Arthur asked as he scraped his teeth against her neck, giving her a glimpse of the thrill, he could offer her.  

“Yes, please don’t make me wait.” She whimpered, as Arthur pressed his teeth a little firmer into her skin, but not enough to break it.

“And what do I get in return, Marie?” He asked, moving his fangs to the other side of her neck as he grazed her skin, sending small shocks of heat to her core.  

“Anything!  I’ll give you anything!” She whispered eagerly, licking her lips as he continued to move his cock up and down her entrance, causing her heartbeat to quicken.  She could feel the adrenaline coursing inside of her, causing her stomach to flutter as she chased the rush of being in Arthur’s strong arms.    

“Very well luv, I am more than happy to oblige an exquisite woman such as yourself.”  Arthur smirked, looking straight into Marie’s eyes as he lowered her onto his stiff cock.  They both closed their eyes and moaned in unison.  Marie dug her nails into Arthur’s back as he set a fast pace, thrusting in and out of her, his ab muscles contracting with every thrust into her tight wet heat.  Arthur’s head tipped back as he continued to pummel into her pussy.  His mouth hung open as he groaned in the pure bliss of his pulsing dick being sucked in by her tight pussy.  Marie’s heartbeat was pounding as she shivered from the feeling of her walls being stretched over and over by Arthur’s cock moving in and out of her, accelerating with every second that passed.  She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of Arthur’s skin slapping hers forcefully.  The sound of the smack of his hips meeting hers in the quiet room. Arthur was sweating profusely, as he drove his member into her heat at breakneck speed with the agility only a vampire could possess.  He kept slamming into her pussy, causing her back to move up and down the wooden wall in time with his powerful thrusts.  She could feel the sting of the wooden wall against her back, but it was dulled by the intoxicating pleasure of Arthur’s forceful lovemaking. Marie’s fingers twitched as she continued to moan loudly, biting and licking her lower lip, unable to contain the exhilaration she was feeling.  She clung to Arthur’s shirt as she tried to move her hips in rhythm with his.  They both leaned in towards each other, meeting in a sloppy kiss, both of their tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Arthur slid his cock out of her pussy, holding her by her hips against the wall.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a shaky voice, darting her eyes from his face down to his still rigid member.  She attempted to rock her body down onto his dick, but she was no match for Arthur’s strength.  Her mouth was dry as her desperation began to rise.  Arthur watched her with satisfaction, leaning in close to her neck.

“Do you want me luv?” He asked in a smooth sultry voice.

“Yes.” She said in a hushed raspy voice.

“Then say my name.” Arthur whispered.  He took his fangs and plunged them into her neck as he slammed his hard member into her empty and aching wet pussy, ramming her body back against the wall.

“ARTHUR!!”  She screamed, the euphoria spreading throughout her body.  She whispered his name like a mantra, her head thrown back leaning against the wood. She came powerfully around his dick, her walls tightening around him.  Her body began to shake as Arthur continued to suck blood from her soft neck while his throbbing cock continued to punish her sensitive pussy.  She took in deep breaths causing her chest to heave; unsure whether to yell at him to stop or to give in to this blissful torture her pussy was being subjected to.  Her voice began to quiver as her walls continued to squeeze around Arthur.

Arthur could feel that he was so close. He shuddered as his pace quickened.  Her tight pussy was sopping wet, allowing him to move easily in and out.  He tightened his grip on her ass as his hips began to stutter.  His final thrusts were powerful, penetrating her to her deepest parts as he shot his hot cum inside of her.  He held her close as he came down from his high, releasing his fangs from her neck. He licked her neck where he had bitten her, and slowly began to kiss her neck, making his way back to her lips.  He kissed her gently, as he lowered her back to the ground.  

She looked up at him as he stretched out his hands to put them against the wall on either side of her. He stared down at her with a cocky smile, looking into her eyes.  

“This was fun, Marie, but unfortunately I have to get going now.  I’m looking for a bloke that I owe money to, I have to pay him back, but I don’t know where he is regrettably.” Arthur said, pinching his chin with fingers, as if in deep thought.  

“Really?  Well maybe I can help, who is he?” She asked brightly, slipping her dress back up her body.

“I’m not sure if you would know who he is, but we both do frequent this bar.  His name is Jacques.  I’m an acquaintance of him and his friend, Pierre.” Arthur said, rubbing at his lips with his thumb.  

“Oh, lucky you, I do know Jacques.  He doesn’t live far from here, just two streets over, above the cobbler shop. Him and Pierre were here last night, but they haven’t shown up tonight, probably sleeping off their drunken night from yesterday.” She said, giggling.  

“Thanks, luv I knew I could count on you.” He said, giving her a wink and a handsome smile.  He quickly fixed his blouse and trousers as he walked towards the door and put a hand on the doorknob.  He turned around to look at Marie who was adjusting her corset.

“We’ll have to do this again luv.” He said, smiling.

“Definitely!” She said, a little too excitedly.  He let out a small laugh and headed into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Grinning from ear to ear, he headed down the stairs to see Theo and Napoleon with scowling faces.  Theo looked exasperatedly at Arthur.  

“What is wrong with you? We have been down here trying to find out any information about Jacques or William while you were off playing with that woman.”

Arthur smiled at his friend.

“Actually, I now know where Jacques lives, courtesy of that woman.  He lives two streets over, above the cobblers.  Let’s get a move on gents.” Arthur said in a relaxed but confident voice.  The two vampires looked at Arthur with dumbfounded faces.  Arthur walked between them and started to head toward the pub door.

Napoleon looked at Theo.

“Did he really just fuck some information out of that woman?” Napoleon asked in disbelief.

“This isn’t even surprising; you don’t know the half of what Arthur is capable of.” Theo said smiling, clapping the stunned Napoleon on the back.  Napoleon turned to look at Theo, letting out a huff at the crazy turn of events. The two vampires turned around and headed out of the pub to catch up with Arthur, who was waiting out front, taking in a breath of fresh air.  Arthur looked at Theo and Napoleon with a smile of accomplishment and pride. Napoleon broke the silence the men were sharing.

“We should head to the Cobbler’s soon, the more we wait, the more chance there is of Jacques or William getting away.”

The three men looked at each other with determination. “Well, let us be on our way then.” Arthur said with a smirk.  “We have some villains to catch.”

Chapter 5:  Blood Revenge

@datenoriko @diagnosed-by-doyle @nad-zeta @darkfaerry @ohhmyyesplease @not-so-local-asshole @niphredil-14 @luzda @anonymous-whisper @nuttytani @kim-stxtches @choi-jiyu @itsannaslife13 @ravenarld @kisara-16 @a-maidens-dream @strawberrypancakesalltheway

[crackinglamb]

gimme 10-13 of the kiss prompts. give

All right, Bugs, you asked for it. 😘

Stolen Kisses

~1900 words, rated M for non-explicit smut

Read it here on AO3.

---

Solas was not a publicly demonstrative lover. He rarely did more than hold her hand as they traipsed across Thedas from one mission to another, be it a rift or a piece of lost lore of his people, or some clue to further their fight against Corypheus. Sometimes, after a battle, after the blood, dirt and exhaustion, he would hold her face in his hands, looking her over with both eyes and magic for more hidden injury. On the rarest of rare occasions, he would press a kiss to her forehead where anyone might see him do it. And when she said rare, what she meant was once. He had done it once. That brush with death had laid bare for both of them just how fleeting and fragile her mortal life was. Those moments of clarity were not to be squandered, even if it meant crossing his disciplined principles.

Imogen understood this about him. She didn't hold it against him. He was a trickster, a rebel. He had outwitted millennia of enemies. He had learned the hard way why one needed to keep their loved ones secret. It was a habit as ingrained into him as his effortless ability to misdirect, to lie by omission, to manipulate events and perceptions. She didn't hold those things against him either. They'd kept him alive, and she needed him that way every bit as much as he needed her since she'd absorbed the Anchor into her hand.

They were an odd pair, to say the least. Elf and human. Mage and archer. Quite literally two worlds collided. Few outside Imogen's trusted inner circle even knew of their intimacy. Fewer still knew how deep it went. Their time together felt stolen, concealed from prying eyes and wagging tongues with utmost care. On the road it was easier, with night watch shifts and too few tents to go around so they had to double up regardless.

In Skyhold it was a choreographed dance. Slipping in unseen after darkness blanketed the fortress, gone again by morning. Therein lay the difficulty in keeping things secret. Imogen had never really been one to lounge around in bed for hours. She was an energetic person who liked to get up and get her day started. But Solas liked his sleep. She compared him waking and leaving the Fade to one who was leaving behind a homeland, no matter that he would see it again when the sun set on the day. She often teased him about it, to which he countered that he gave her little reason to complain about sleeping in with him.

Well, he wasn't wrong on that score. She'd admit it.

Because when they were alone...oh, when they were alone...

---

Imogen woke to the touch of lips against her collarbone, a brush so light it was barely there. She lay there with her eyes closed and tipped her head further back on her pillow. He wasn't truly awake yet, she could tell from the laxity in his arms around her, the smoothness of his brow under her chin, the slow rhythm of his breath in the hollow of her throat. Still, he took advantage of their position, and her tacit invitation. He pressed closer, feathering butterfly light kisses up the column of her neck, across the slope of her jaw and over her cheek. She started to smile when he reached her nose, trailing soft and slow and tender down the length of it until he tilted his head, and she automatically did too.

They weren't lined up perfectly, the corner of his mouth was under hers, his landed in the space between her nose and lips. She felt him smile, even as she let her own grow wide, giddy with the silliness of missing a kiss because they were fuzzy with sleep and not looking. She puckered her lips against his anyway, crooked as they were, making the smallest smacking noise when she pulled away. His hands slid up her back to cradle her as he dragged his lower lip against her mouth until he was just right. Then he plundered.

He was always like this, it seemed. The first touch was tentative, almost wary. The second was raw. As if he'd given himself permission to take what she offered. It never failed to fill her with sparks of joy deep in her body. The Dread Wolf take you. It gave a whole new meaning to the curse, one that she'd teased him with on many occasions. And to her delight, he never failed to deliver on it.

She hitched her leg over his hip, hooking her calf behind his backside. One of his hands stayed between her shoulder blades, while the other smoothed down ribs and waist and the curve of her leg wrapped around him. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She was now straddling him and their eyes were open, his storm gray ones meeting her hazel shot blue. She was balanced on her elbows over his face, pressed against him from breast to thigh.

“Good morning,” she murmured, leaning in to nip at his mouth again.

“On dhea, arasha.”

She rocked on him, her spine loose and fluid with arousal. The frequency of waking up this way made her ready with barely more than a single touch, and the glint in his eye told her that he knew it. He pressed up and she tilted down and they both gasped as he filled her. The steady rocking of their bodies became a rise and fall, languid and easy. It was her turn to leave sipping kisses along his cheekbone, following the sharp line of it to where it met his ear. With a grin, she caught his earlobe between her teeth. He lifted into her with a jerk and a hiss and she let go as she gasped at how full of him she was.

Then she giggled at him. “What is that saying? Take the Dread Wolf by the ear...?”

Solas growled in his throat and his hands clamped onto her butt, fingers digging into her with bruising strength. “Careful, arasha. You'll get more than you bargained for.”

“Oh, will I?” she taunted, dropping close once more to run the tip of her tongue along the edge of his ear to the point. Just before she bit him, she whispered, “I can't wait.”

The bed in her chamber was large, large enough that when he rolled them over, they didn't fall off the edge. Not that she was able to pay much attention to that, since he hooked his arms under her knees and thrust into her so deep she saw stars. He chuckled at her loud cry, dipping his head to capture her lips again as she thrashed in his grip. No more slow seduction, he was intent on making her shatter now.

And he did.

There was an undeniable urgency in how they slid against each other, muscles taut and straining as they each urged the other on to completion. He let go of her legs to thread his fingers into her hair, the coiling curls wrapping around his wrists as he held her in place. Her legs were crossed over his back, giving her leverage to lift into his hard thrusts. It built, so fast and so high that she had no choice but to fall over the edge of her climax with a shout, muffled by his mouth sealed over hers, his tongue pressed between her teeth. He followed her, groaning against her as she cradled him, their bodies shivering with aftershocks.

“You and morning sex,” she laughed when they finally pulled apart.

“I could always stop.” He lifted his head from her chest where he had fallen and smirked at her. He placed another kiss on her lips and began to sit up.

Imogen clutched at his arms before he got out of reach. They tumbled back together in the mess of sheets and pillows. “Don't you fucking dare.”

They laughed together as they tussled, sneaking in fresh kisses and touches until they both heard the morning bells of the Chantry chapel. She pushed her riot of hair out of her face and grinned at him, swooping in to plant one final lingering kiss on him. He helped her sit up and untangle herself from the covers. Then he leaned back against the headboard and watched her wash and dress, turning from Imogen to Inquisitor.

“And what duty calls today?” he asked, beginning his own slide away from lover to associate.

“The usual,” she replied, tugging on boots and belts and gloves to hide the Anchor from those who wanted nothing more than an intrusive gawk at the Herald of Andraste. “Meetings and paperwork. You?”

He was silent as he sat in the rumpled bed. Imogen glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. He finally met her gaze with an almost sheepish expression. “I should check on my...”

“Agents?” she grinned. He nodded. “Solas, my love, don't act like I don't know you have them. C'mon now. I'm not that much of an idiot.”

He snorted in answer. She brushed back her hair and tied it into a haphazard ponytail, then skirted around the side of the bed to cup his face. She leaned in and kissed him one last time in farewell, brisk and chaste.

“I'll see you later?”

“Of course, arasha.”

Then she bounced down the stairs of the chamber to the Great Hall. How her lover would escape the confines of her room was his own business.

The day passed, her meetings and small tasks taking her from wing to wing of the fortress. It was hours before she skipped through the rotunda to see that he hadn't returned from wherever he met his unknown forces. She didn't ask, didn't pry into his network. They were ultimately after the same goal, the pair of them. But she needed plausible deniability as long as she was the Inquisitor, and so Fen'Harel was a separate man from Solas in the day to day, as far as she was concerned.

It was nearly suppertime before they circled back into each other's orbit. In the darkened recesses behind the kitchen, where Imogen was putting away the newest bottles of her collection, Solas snagged her from the shadows and kissed her breathless against the rough cobblestone walls. Her arms wrapped around his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and sunshine. Wherever he'd been, it was not within Skyhold.

“Did you miss me or something?” she asked when he finally let her go.

“Of course not,” he said, a sly little grin crooking one side of his mouth. She scowled at him and mockingly smacked her palm against his chest.

“Liar.”

He kissed her again, slower and hotter. There was a tempest brewing under his skin, she could feel it, nearly taste it. He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers, neither of them letting the other go.

“Was your day successful, arasha?” he asked in a low grumble.

“It was.”

“Is it over?”

She grinned. “Yup.”

His eyes met hers, molten silver in the dim light that spilled between the storeroom and the kitchen. “Shall I have you again?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, holding him tighter.

[calpops]

veiled valor | 10 | c.h.

chasing chances

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They sat in silence save for the blazing fire warming them. It crackled and echoed around the near empty house. As much as Calum wished it a home it was only ever a temporary residence; a place to land when the seas weren’t favorable or people found suspicion. Elodie rested her head on Calum’s chest and his arms came to hold her close, he knew she could hear his heart beating. It was slow and rhythmic, soft in its every thud as he took in a deep breath along with the realization she made anywhere feel like home.

From wooden walls of a weathered ship to dark rooms of an unknown inn Elodie had a way of settling herself into Calum’s heart. She possessed every corner of Calum’s thoughts, front and center, she even resided in the darker places, somehow bringing light to memories Calum would have rather kept pitch black. She made him reflect on himself, why his desire to protect her was so strong, why her push and pull could bring him underwater and fill his lungs with salt and still make it feel beautiful. He didn’t understand how the sensation of drowning could leave him exalted; but when he found himself lost in her eyes and falling further and further under he realized he didn’t care why it happened. So long as it never ended. He couldn’t explain the feeling that rocked his ribs or the music only he could hear when she came into his sight. Symphonies sounded tragic compared to the sound of her voice whispering his name. He shifted and she moved with him, a breaking wave followed by another already formed and close behind. Calum smirked, Elodie’s eyes downcast and unable to take in the sight.

Calum could tell she was tired. The voyage from her kingdom to a new landing spot had been long and somewhat treacherous. They’d been riddled with obstacles but in Calum’s eyes she’d gracefully swept past them, posture regal and air about her still refined. Even with a pistol in hand and doubts in her heart she was resilient as a stained glass ocean. No matter how fractured she may have thought her waves were, Calum knew all those pieces could come back together to create something beautiful; something that reflected her light and kept him coming back to her. They spent the day together in a haze, never leaving each other’s company or arms for too long. The house had the bare minimum necessities and Calum knew he’d have to go to town; food and a business deal awaiting him. But he pushed it off for another day. As long as Elodie was receptive to the affection that poured so easily out of Calum he couldn’t imagine parting ways with her. Not even for a moment. They dined on what little food remained well in the house and though it wasn’t much it still filled Calum’s heart to see Elodie feel so at home. To watch her move about the kitchen as if it were her own, to have her fit right back into his arms without hesitation. She was cold, hands and tip of her nose chilled from the winter weather.

Calum kept the fire blazing through the day in his best efforts to keep Elodie warm. They traded whispers, the empty house unlike the crowded ship but the sentiment of only letting the other hear keeping a firm grasp. It was more intimate that way, small stories exchanged in low voices, lips nearly pressed to ears and heartbeats hammering the only background noise of the day. And although Calum could feel the bite of cold still dancing on her skin he followed her gaze out the window. Snow still falling entrancing her as the day wore thin and night crept into the sky. A ripple of anxiety caught Calum’s heart, tugged him into uncertainty and spiraled his desires. The first night in the house had been spent behind different doors. He craved for the tides to change. For the nights on the ship when they’d collide to come back to them. But Elodie controlled the waves, Calum merely a susceptible passenger.

When the need for sleep rolled around the sky had gone pitch dark; oil lanterns and candles aglow in the small house Calum looked to Elodie. The exhaustion was evident on her face, even though the day had been languid and easy. For the first time Calum took an ounce of control, influencing her towards the stairs. She was pliable and willing, more ready for sleep than she would admit. Standing spilled a small cough and sniffle from her but she waved away Calum’s concern.

“I’m alright,” she promised, one hand tightly gripping the rail of the stairs, the other still enveloped in Calum’s. He wrote off her clammy palm and slow steps.

His control faltered once they made it up the staircase. Two doors laid ahead of them, even though Calum wanted nothing more than to spend the night with her—keeping her close and safe—he let her decide. She swayed toward the door she’d spent last night behind alone. And Calum took the clue that tonight would be no different. He walked her to her room, built a fire to keep her warm and wandered back to the door as he hovered in the hallway. She approached him quickly and he felt the brush of her lips against his for one bittersweet moment—eyes closed and heart throbbing—and then heard the door click shut. There was no more exchanging of good night and sleep well between princess and pirate. A kiss speaking more than words ever could. Once more the lock did not turn and Calum considered progress as progress.

***

Calum woke with a start. It was still dark out and the fire he had built in his own room ran low. The air was frost bitten and his skin begged for warmth, body wanting to sink back under the covers but mind pleading not to return to a dream built of tragedy. His teeth sunk into his lower lip, the chapped skin aching as he contemplated. It only took a moment for him to slowly ease his way out of bed and into the stark air. His nightclothes were thin against the winter air that seemed to invade from every crack in the home. Worry ate at Calum; if his room was this cold with a fire barely standing he considered how Elodie may be holding out. She’d done her best to hide her aversions to the cold; her entrancement from the snow doing little to prepare her body for the ailments winter could bring. A cough and sniffle played in Calum’s mind. He did not want to wake her or misplace her trust in him, but her fire was likely dying and the cold must be warring with her too.

With a hand on the doorknob Calum took a deep breath and dove into uncharted waters. He stopped short as the door opened and lost his breath. Elodie stood in the hallway, apprehensive eyes and unsure hand poised to knock. She’d wrapped herself in a blanket from the bedding, Calum knowing her nightdress was even thinner than the clothes he wore. Her hands moved nervously under the blanket that concealed her. She let out a small and surprised breath.

“Elodie?” Calum asked, unsure what else to say. Too surprised to muster any other words.

“My room—the fire… it’s… can I stay with you tonight?”

Calum nearly went slack jawed but composed himself and welcomed her with open arms, negating to mention the scratch in her voice. She stumbled into his hold, blanket draped precariously over her and dragging on the floor behind her every step. Calum wound an arm around her shoulders and led her to his bed, to the side his body had already warmed and helped her settle in before excusing himself to spark the fire back to a blazing life. When all was set and he returned to his bed where Elodie was still and buried beneath the covers his heart skipped a beat. They’d slept together, they’d shared a bed and intimate moments before; but now in the privacy of a quiet home that held just the two of them it was different. It was a thinly veiled difference but it was loud in the effect that ship boards didn’t creak with the weight of the crew, waves didn’t lap at woodwork and patrons of an inn didn’t whisper through the night. Calum finally realized the intimacy of truly being alone with Elodie.

When his weight dipped the bed and his body slid under the covers with her she stirred and turned to face him; laid on her side with a hand slipped under the pillow and the other gripping the top of the sheets to keep them securely under her chin. Calum took much the same position so he could keep his gaze locked on her; so he could drown in honey eyes and let her radiating warmth envelop him. Her nose twitched slightly and Calum couldn’t help but grin at the minuscule motion.

“Will you teach me?” She asked and Calum once more pretended not to hear the scratch in her voice; knowing she was much too stubborn to admit it anyway.

“Teach you?” Calum asked in a murmur. Her eyes flickered toward the fire that cracked quietly through the room. “To build a fire?”

She nodded in a small movement and let her eyes wander back to his. “And more about the stars?”

Calum assured her that he would and at the first tremble of her lips he didn’t hesitate to pull her close; smothering the shiver with his warmth and comforting the princess in his arms. He pondered for a moment her desire to learn to build a fire. He knew her reason for the stars. He considered that maybe it was much the same. Recalled their conversation in the falling snow and felt his heartstrings snap under the pressure of her past. He could now think back and hear the yearning for independence; to not stay and not obey. Calum knew she wanted to wander. The stars and warmth were a necessity to that. As he drifted to sleep with her soft skin pressed to his he once again found himself holding onto the hope that their voyages would stay on the same courses. He couldn’t count how many times he’d wished for that, though he knew he’d wish it endlessly. He’d pray and will with all of his own might and to pantheons known and unknown.

They spent the night together in a silent bliss. Words ceased to be exchanged after a simple promise was made. The fire stayed alive through the rest of the dark hours. When the first sunlight spilled through the bedroom window Calum’s eyes fluttered open, vision blurred but pulling back to reality. Elodie was still in his arms and he realized they had not moved during the night, waking in nearly the exact same position as they had drifted to sleep in. She was warmer that morning, shivers disappeared with the night and replaced with a feverish warm. He didn’t want to leave her; feared what may become of her fate alone in the house tucked away, but knew he had to. Business was still business and trade called to him. The need to stock the kitchen came as a reminder with a hungry stomach. A fleeting promise he had made to himself also ringing faint bells in his mind. He’d need to go to town.

***

As Calum strolled through cobblestone streets without the comfort of Elodie’s hand in his it felt foreign. He realized the last time they’d docked and wandered he had stopped to buy her a flower. And stopped once more to stock the ship with flowers to keep happiness blooming even when the ocean could only grow waves. He kept her smile in mind, the warmth of her cheeks blushing filling his chest, and entered a small trades shop, a hand in his pocket to grasp at the familiar warmth of a ruby. He supposed if he could not have Elodie’s hand in his, her pendant was the next best option. There was a momentary wonder of if she’d want it back, after all they’d been through surely she must realize he would not keep the jewel as payment. He brushed the thought away, ultimately grateful for the comfort the small stone brought in times of her absence. Calum had unfinished business in the shop from the last winter he had docked. Loose ends to be tied up. Money owed for treasure bartered.

Calum always considered himself an honest tradesman, loyal to customers who also held loyalty with him. He wore sleeves to conceal secrets but found trust with a lonely few who had dark shadows of their own pasts following them. As he entered the shop keep turned to catch eyes with him, a knowing smile curving his lips up and Calum reciprocated in kind. His crew was family; Ashton, Michael and Luke brothers bonded through time and triumphs, but a lone few lingered on land that he could truly consider a friend. John, the man behind the counter who had his own past following him, was one of those few. Calum approached the counter in a casual manner as John disappeared, Calum awaiting payment for a trade made months ago. He had taken John for his word and promise of payment. He had good faith in the shop keep.

“Came up just a bit short,” John said apprehensively, voice drifting from the back of the small store. Calum heard the clanging of coins as he returned to the counter with his payment. “Another month and I’d have the amount in full.”

Calum considered this a moment. Eyes drifting through the shop and all the trinkets and goods laid out for sale. His gaze landed on an unusual piece to have made its way into the small shop. Red caught and kept his eyes. One thought, one person, entering his mind.

“How about another trade to pay the debt in full?” Calum suggested and John followed the line of his gaze and thought. He agreed eagerly and the deal was done. Calum left the small shop with money and a gift that was priceless in hand.

***

When Calum’s day was done and all business was taken care of he found that strolling back up to the house on the edge of nowhere finally felt like coming home. The house was quiet and Calum wondered where Elodie was. He put food away quickly, finally having a fully stocked kitchen shed some weight of worry off his shoulders. He tucked the special item for Elodie away, placing it somewhere she’d never look—wanting to keep the item a surprise. Much like with the flowers that had boarded the ship. He wanted to hear the little oh and see the astonishment cross her face. He knew the gift was minimal compared to what a princess might receive but he also knew she was his princess and that such a gift would be more than well received. And the occasion to go along with it would only brighten the sparkle that would capture her eyes, broaden the smile he hoped to see and bring beautifully crashing waves rocking through his ribs once more.

He silently made his way out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, the fire in the living area he had built before leaving was dying off. He’d have to add more life but first he needed to find Elodie. He ascended the stairs in a quick climb, poked his head through the door of the room she had chosen on the first night, curious if maybe she had woken and shifted rooms when she found Calum’s side of the bed to be cold. She wasn’t there. Calum’s heart thudded as he headed towards his door, recalling a late night connection and a screaming desire to not leave the sheets once morning care.

Calum didn’t expect to find her still bundled under the covers in his room with a dying fire as the only light in the room. The drapes were drawn and she did not so much as move or make a noise of acknowledgement as Calum pushed the door open and slid into the room as quietly as possible. He approached her with timid steps, finding in what dim light was left from the fire and the spill of light through the crack in the door that her eyes were shut. Concern creased his forehead as he lingered above her. One hand reached out and swept across her forehead, noting the warmth, as he tucked fallen curls behind her ear. Though her eyes were shut Calum could see she was not in a peaceful slumber. Her mouth was taut and hands clenched around the fabric of the sheets as if trying to ease herself with what little strength Calum assumed she had.

“Princess,” Calum whispered. It hit him in that moment they no longer needed to whisper around a crew’s possibly listening ears. He could openly call her princess, could let affection drown around the term and soft eyes didn’t have to drift away like the tide from the shore. They could crash into one another now. Crash and hopefully stay.

Elodie stirred, eyes opened slowly and Calum saw the effort it took to relax her lips. She licked at the chapped skin and let out a small huff as she strained to sit up. Calum’s hands caught her shoulders, aided her in the journey upwards and sat himself beside her, unable to resist wrapping his arms around her, welcoming her weight as she sagged into his side. He carded his hands through her bed head curls and felt her ease into his hold. He could almost kick himself for having left her this morning, but tea and medicinal supplies now stocked the cupboards. Calum was grateful for that and that at least he’d gotten back before she had woken.

“Don’t feel so good,” she murmured, voice strained and scratchy, words barely above a whisper and a miracle Calum had heard them. “So cold.”

Elodie fell into Calum’s warmth, burying her flushed face against his chest and weak hands gripping his shirt instead of the covers. There was a part of Calum that wanted to stay like that, to hold her and not let go until he knew she was better. But the more rational side of him knew tea and medicine would help more than he ever could. It took moments of silent deliberation for Calum to make up his mind. His hands had come to card through her hair, perhaps a mindless tick in the same way Elodie pulled at her skirts and bit her lip. Perhaps it was a thing of comfort. For Elodie and for Calum. His hand dropped from her hair and a small noise of discontent came from the princess in his arms. Calum couldn’t bite back the satisfied smirk as he ducked down to kiss the top of her head and carefully readjust her back into the comfort of the bed. He let a hand brush across her cheek as he stood. She kept her eyes closed, frame slightly shaking with shivers at the loss of Calum’s body heat.

“I’ll be back with tea and medicine,” Calum promised and made way to tend the fire and hopefully warm the room back up while he was absent in the kitchen.

Calum wasn’t sure; her voice was too low and strained, but he was nearly certain she managed to grumble about killing for even a crude cup of tea. Which he would remember to stock in spring when they next sailed. He exited the room quietly and felt the drag of her absence as he made tea and gathered supplies as quickly as he could. He wanted to get back to her, to help comfort her and know how she was. It was the uncertainty that bit at him. It was a morning without her that pulled him back up the stairs, anxious to have her in his arms once more. She had dozed back to sleep in his absence but woke as his weight dipped the bed. He could see that she was trying to reach him, moving as if in need of a lifeline cast to sea, and Calum found himself drifting towards her without thought. He’d placed the tray with everything he’d managed to put together for her on the stand beside the bed.

Calum could see how tired Elodie’s eyes were, the exhaustion painted in gray on delicate skin. Where there was a usual sparkle against gold a feverish sheen had taken its place. It seemed a chore for her to keep her eyes open, her languid and minimal movement into Calum’s guiding hold spoke of the aches he imagined must be wracking her body. He was careful with her, slowly brought her to him in an upright position to sip at tea infused with ingredients Calum hoped would soothe her. Calum handed her the cup which she sipped from lightly for a brief moment, just drinking a chore when her energy was being battered down by a fever. Once done with the tea Calum placed it back on the tray and welcomed her nestling closer into his hold. He knew he ran the risk of also getting sick but couldn’t resist being her source of comfort.

“Tell me a story?” She asked lowly, eyes slipping shut. “To distract me.”

Calum mindlessly ran the pads of his fingertips up and down her arm, thinking of what story he should share. He recalled their day on the ship, a bandaged arm and a stolen story. She’d more than compensated for her trickery when opening up at the inn, sharing pieces of her past in the snow and most of all trusting Calum with her identity. Calum found her ability to unravel him and his past endearing, he found that with her innate closed off nature every piece of herself that she did share felt even more special. She chose what to share with him, handed herself over piece by piece and built a stained glass ocean of trust with him.

“What kind of story?” He finally settled on asking. He wanted to give her anything and everything she wanted.

“One like the dagger,” she responded after a moment of silence, her voice surprised Calum as he questioned if she had drifted off to sleep again, eyes still closed and body finally rid of the shivers that aided her exhaustion.

Calum mused for a moment, filtering through pieces of his own past that he thought might entertain Elodie. She had a keen liking for the dagger stained on his skin. He remembered a half finished story he had dangled in front of her, the history of a usually hidden brand capturing her interest enough for it to waver away from the point of a dagger. He recalled finally revealing the biggest part of his past to her; the incredulous tone she’d taken when his secrets were revealed. But it was outrage for him; not against him. Calum pursed his lips and let out a breath as he decided a path to take her down.  Finally feeling and knowing she would understand.

“I never told you why I ran off and set sail, did I?” He asked quietly, hand drifting down her arm to play with her fingers instead.

For a split second he could imagine her with fine jewelry—rings with stones worth more than his life—decorating her hand, could feel the weight of her pendant though it was cushioned and near weightless in his pocket. He often found himself getting lost in a past he could only imagine Elodie living, could only imagine her still wanting. Until he remembered she had run from all of it. Had sought out more in her escape. Elodie shook her head no in a weak manner, a small cough escaping her instead of the one syllable. Calum figured it was time he shared. She’d given him her runaway tale and as an honorable man and pirate of equal trade he felt he owed her that truth. He shut his eyes, thinking back to when he was a boy. He could picture the small home he’d grown up in, could see the sun shining through open windows and heard the crash of waves that broke past royal harbors and scattered shorelines.

“I was still just a kid,” he began, voice drifting with memories that flooded him. It was visceral, he swore he could feel the past; could touch and taste and smell the memories floating around his thoughts. It felt like drowning in salt water, being buried in sand, but lifted and taken away by a breeze that rolled off ocean waves.

Elodie was still, breath coming in even bursts as Calum began his story. He pondered for a brief moment if she’d fallen asleep but the small noise that escaped her begged him to continue. He cleared his throat, fidgeting fingers stopping; instead holding her hand in a light attempt at comfort. Her skin was warm and soft against work rough and calloused cool hands; Calum noting the difference as similarities came crashing through his mind.

Calum could always empathize with Elodie’s yearning need for more. To run away from her life and find herself in the process. They were one in the same in many respects. He needed to escape monotony. To wander from a life with a carved out path that led to the edges of nowhere. At least, nowhere he wanted to be.

“I was told what I’d be; I was forced into an apprenticeship with the local blacksmith. The path was so easy to follow. It was right there the whole time. Yet, the ocean called for me; the idea of something more than living in a small village and following the footsteps of another man, every other man, felt like drowning. My family didn’t understand. They couldn’t imagine why I wanted to leave and find my own way. It hurt to leave them but staying would have hurt even more.”

Elodie nuzzled into Calum’s hold, speaking without words that she understood the strife and pain. That she was there and had been there before. Calum let out a long held breath he hadn’t realized he was keeping in and his shoulders sagged as if a weight had been lifted. To know that Elodie understood filled him with ease and let him sail through to the next part of his story. She knew pieces of it already, a captain with dark intentions, a narrow escape from death and a brand that would last a lifetime. What she didn’t know was how he had found his way into all of that. How one small opportunity had turned into another and turned into a regret that would follow him for a lifetime. He wondered if she had any of those kinds of stories. Reminded himself to ask when speaking wasn’t a chore for her. He longed to hear her usual voice, even wanted her wit to outsmart him as her words danced past their agreements.

“I left my home just before sunrise with the shirt on my back and one coin to my name. I set out for the docks without a goodbye, knowing it’d be too painful and too convincing of me to stay.”

Elodie stirred slightly and mustered up enough energy to ask a question Calum had often wondered about her too. “Do you regret not saying goodbye?”

“Sometimes,” Calum began but cut himself short as he took a look down at the princess in his arms and rationalized that everything happens with and for a reason. “But I knew leaving took precedence. I wandered the docks ready to leap at any chance for escape. I tried with several different vessels, offered my coin as payment, my labor free of wages, just for an opportunity to leave.”

Calum realized at that very moment how connected they truly were. Two wandering souls seeking out more, running to the waves and letting the ocean take them away. And bring them together.

“I was chasing chances. Just trying to find a way to find myself.” He decided to conclude in a whisper, noting the steady rise and fall of Elodie’s chest, the way her hand had gone limp in his hold as she had finally drifted into a somewhat peaceful slumber. He let his free hand come up to her curls, brushing her forehead and finding the fever was starting to break.

Calum reflected on his past silently; thankful for all he endured in the beginning as it brought another searching soul to him; one that he swore he would protect at all costs for he knew what life was like to have no one having your back and being at your side. He’d chase every chance with her; he wouldn’t look back and he hoped he’d never have to say goodbye.

***

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Nightwing: Alter Egos

A/N: I would like to apologise for my absence and lack of content, but new year so I’ll try harder. But there’s still CHRISTMAS and Halloween stories I want to post... Better late than never? If you want them that is.

(In this Nightwing and (Y/n) don’t know about one another’s vigilante life. Yet.)

>>>>—————————>

Usually, none of the team got a large amount of personal time with villains constantly threatening to end the world on a daily basis, but during rare periods of relaxation you spent the majority of your time with Dick Grayson - who happened to be one of your closest friends.

Obviously you couldn't tell him about being (s/h/n) because of the unspoken 'secret identity' rule despite how much you wanted to, however this arrangement did have it's advantages such as being able to keep your personal and hero lives separate.

"Hey (y/n)?" Rang through your mind and you noticed a hand waving in front of your face bringing you back to reality.

You were out shopping with Dick for your friends' Christmas presents, specifically for Wally who remained a mutual friend.

"You just completely zoned out on me." Dick laughed, seeing your confused expression.

"Did I? Sorry, I was thinking." You apologised, pushing his hand away with a smile.

"I guessed - are you gonna tell me what about, a big time crush maybe or some deep dark secret?" Grayson continued, tone filled with fake wonderment.

"Maybe, you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." Was your upbeat response, implying that you were playing around.

"Deal - I'm Nightwing." Dick happily grinned, though his careless nature lead you to doubt him.

"Oh really?"

"No of course not (y/n), there's no way I'd have the time and I like my beauty sleep." Your friend assured you, maybe part of you was hoping he wasn't joking.

"That's a shame." You responded, tone still carrying some happiness as you continued looking through the stores' merchandise.

"How so?" Curiousity had got the better of Dick and he wanted to know what you had to say about him - uh Nightwing.

"Okay, well Nightwing is pretty cool, he has that cocky attitude that's quite attractive sometimes, being a vigilante is always a bonus and he must be good looking - from what I can tell. And his body! It's so amazing, he is just - umm I think I'm going too far?" You dragged yourself out of your lecture on Nightwing's alluring attributes once glancing over to Dick who seemed bemused with a raised brow.

"Oh no, please continue." Dick commented, undeniably enthralled and flattered but he couldn't understand the sinking feeling in stomach, you were saying these things about him yet to you, Nightwing was a completely different person.

"He's my favourite hero - that's all, possibly a tiny crush but it's unrealistic and I haven't even met the guy so I'm not going to fall head over heels in love with him. So don't look at me like that." You justified, true you weren't in love with the hero and you assumed your need to prove that to Dick Grayson was probably because you secretly liked him. Ah so many secrets.

"I get it (y/n), I personally think (s/h/n) is quite hot and a beautiful fighter." Dick responded wistfully, you couldn't help but blush even it was your alter ego he was talking about. It was times such as these you wished to tell him.

"Like you say, I haven't met her so she could be crazy for all I know. How about this for Wally?"  Dick questioned, holding up a Flash Sweatshirt.

"No, he already has one." You reminisced, though you didn't forget his previous comment whilst he gazed at you skeptically leading you to defend your answer.

"Trust me he does, I bet we can find something else - if not you can just buy him food. And you're right, Nightwing could be a fuckboy." You stated nonchalantly, Dick however had to do a double take before following you out of the store desperately reminding you of your previous compliments of the hero much to your amusement.

~Time Skip~

The small Christmas gathering held at the Cave was quite exciting, though it was last minute so most were still dressed in their uniforms. Wally and Artemis even made an appearance which was unexpected but you were thankful, it had been a while since they'd left the team and admittedly it was quiet without them - even with the new recruits.

Wally knew about both yours and Nightwing's secret identities - being friends with both of you outside of heroing, but only found out who you were by accident. Honestly, he couldn't understand why Dick and yourself hadn't told each other but he'd promised to keep your secrets anyway because it wasn't his place to reveal such things - there were alternate ways to do so.

"You can see why someone would call you a fuckboy though right? The charm, the flirting, dating quite a few girls..." You half heartedly continued, responding to Nightwing's rambling of how his 'friend' outright insulted him.

"Yeah but (s/h/n) I really like this one. A lot, to the point where I don't even understand it. They're just everything I could ever want, I love everything that they do. I don't particularly want them to see me like that." Realisation hit the young hero, you on the other hand were watching on in disbelief but also with a look of sympathy.

You and Nightwing were close, so you got to know him well and you'd often talk to each other but this was new. Nightwing seemed lost in this person unlike any others you'd seen him with, even more so than with Zatana.

You smirked, ignoring the sudden breeze beside you and enlightened Nightwing with your wonderful advice.

"Wow aren't you love struck? It's horrible, I never thought I'd see the day, you should tell 'em what you just told me -"

"Sorry to interrupt guys but..." Wally intervened, pointing upwards towards the mistletoe dangling above your heads. Darn it.

"No no no. See, I've been avoiding that all evening, there wasn't any there earlier so how -" You argued before your eyes fell onto a smug Wally, too bad Kid Flash didn't forget how to use his super speed.

"One kiss?" Ex-boy wonder urged, since he knew neither of you would escape Wally's 'plan'.

Evidently, it was going to happen and kissing your superhero crush was a dream come true you supposed, so you went along with it. You placed one hand on his cheek/jaw and guided him to your lips and his held your waist loosely. Neither of you increased the intimacy, it only lasted 3 seconds maximum once you pulled away.

Wally held an expression of disappointment as that was not his desired outcome, the kiss you had just shared with his best friend was supposed to mean something. It was meant to be intimate and loving, you were supposed to tell/realise your feelings for each other - but nooo you're both just continuing your conversation like it never happened once you'd removed yourselves from the mistletoe. Wally threw his head back and sighed in frustration, he returned to Artemis who smirked at her boyfriend's antics.

"Nice try babe."

.

"Why did you pull away so fast?" Nightwing asked once you'd escaped the evil foliage.

"Same reason as you - I like someone else." You answered honestly, if Nightwing is willing to come to you with his relationship problems then you can get advice from him.

"Elaborate."

"I made the stupid - and clićhe - mistake of falling in love with my best friend." You proclaimed simply, rolling your eyes at your own idiocy.

"Hm, lucky guy." Nightwing's voice rang with cheerfulness once again.

"You would think, but I'm pretty sure my alter ego is friend zoned." Your tone upbeat and sarcastic causing you both to laugh.

~Time Skip~

You knocked on the door to the Manor, Bruce was invited to a gala for the New Year's celebration but the others decided to stay at the Manor which is where you were heading after Dick had asked if you were free.

It was late and New Years was approaching, wonderful at least at a party you may have the opportunity to kiss someone for good luck but you didn't mind missing out for your friends. Luck be damned.

"Miss (Y/n) I believe you left your scarf here from your previous visit, it is in Master Dick's room if you wish to collect it." Alfred greeted as you walked into the warmth the Manor provided.

"Sure, thanks Alfred." You nodded, going through to find Dick to ask for permission to enter his bedroom.

"Hey, can I grab my scarf from your room?" You called, politeness evident though you had given up your search since the Manor was huge.

"Sure (y/n)!" Dick responded from wherever he was, he understood and wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t ask but still.

Upon hearing his approval you made your way up the stairs and followed the route you knew by heart, calmly you opened his door and went to find your scarf. That's when you saw it, a Nightwing uniform strew across the bedroom floor, a string of curse words left your mouth after you got over your initial shock. Either Dick was Nightwing or an avid cosplayer, and if it was the latter why hadn’t he invited you?!

Cautiously, you began to piece together various situations in your head - as far as you knew no one else had insulted Nightwing via calling him a 'fuckboy' and did you really tell your best friend that you thought he had an amazing body that one time? Yes. Yes you did.

Taking a deep breath, you raced down stairs of the Manor focused on finding your friend despite the recent discoveries that were nagging at the back of your mind. Now most things made sense, if Dick was Nightwing then you were hoping that the 'friend' he was talking about was you - since you were the one who dared rip into his alter ego, though only in a friendly way.

Still you continued your search and luckily ran into him - literally. Arms were around your waist in an instant whilst you were mentally cursing yourself, you'd hoped it'd be smoother than this but you were willing to work with what you had considering the mini countdown ticking down to zero in your head - it was midnight!

"(Y/n) what are y-"

Instantaneously, you cut 'Nightwing' - Dick Grayson off by crashing your lips into his, unlike last time Dick was much more willing to reciprocate for you. Being lip locked with you meant so much to him and personally he wanted to make it last even if it was just for his own pleasure but was determined to make sure it was for yours as well.

Dick had eliminated all distance between you, his body was pressed against yours with his hands roaming your body and his lips moving against yours causing you to release a bearly audible moan. Though Dick heard it, of course he did, that's what he has been trying to earn from you the entire time - it meant he was making you feel good which was all he really wanted.

So when you felt him smile into the kiss after your small lapse of control you weren't surprised, painfully slowly you pulled away to leave a slight space between your lips'.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Dick inquired, his tone almost a soft whisper but carried a hint of disappointment that he'd tried to disguise.

"No, it’s amazing. You're amazing." You assured before he closed the gap again being more slow and gentle this time, deriving further pleasure for the both of you.

"That was nice... And Happy New Year fuckboy."

"Mmm, (y/n) - say what?!" Dick started, almost dreamily until your words had registered.

"I found this little thing - a uniform to be precise - on your floor." You replied, smirking slightly.

"(Y/n) I can explain just- just come with me." Dick pleaded, frustrated with himself for not putting it away in his rush to get ready. Quickly he guided you to the lounge, silently asking you to take a seat before he paced for a short time seemingly distressed. You faced your best friend expectantly, he had an explanation but where to start was a mystery.

"I wanted to tell you - I would have but with  Batman and the team and I couldn't. It kept you safer too, (y/n) please I know you must be angry -" Dick began, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.

"No I'm not angry, I completely understand." You cheerfully replied, your expression showing contentment.

"I'm so sorry (y/n) - what?" Dick looked at you completely puzzled, speechless, dumbfounded - he wasn't expecting this at all.

"That... was uh... easier than I thought?" The male concluded, still spectacle of your behaviour so much so he began to question reality.

"Yup, but just so we're even... Promise you won't freak out?" You requested politely, hoping he would react the way you did.

"I think I can do that." He nodded.

"I'm (s/h/n)." You blurted out, but you didn't get the desired response, instead you received a questioning look that implied he did not believe you.

"Trust me, you kissed me under the mistletoe at Mount Justice, the mission with the Ice villains, oh - when Bart crashed into our timeline. I also remember you talking about how love struck you were because of your friend." The final aspect of your explanation elicited a response from the one opposite you, he was blushing.

"You remembered that." Dick asked though it was more of a statement.

"I did."

"Well uh that friend - it was you (y/n), I don't understand or really know how to explain my feelings. You are everything I could ever want and I love everything you do. Shit (y/n) - I just really want to be good enough for you." Dick repeated the words he'd said to (s/h/n), or you as he'd just recently discovered, with sincerity.

"That's a relief because you're that best friend I told you about - I fell for you too." You replied sheepishly, getting to your feet.

You had no idea how happy that made him, he was in front of you in an instant placing yet another kiss on your lips.

"You give good advice (s/h/n) - and I recall you saying something about Nightwing having an amazing body." Grayson was smirking, cockiness practically radiating off of him knowing he had you cornered.

"You remembered that."

"I did." Grayson sang rather smugly, this beginning a new year with a new adventure.

...

"Oh I need to get my scarf, do you want to come with me?" You suggested, successfully changing the subject.

"Where is it (y/n)?" Dick inquired, more than willing to help you find it despite losing his moment.

"In your bedroom..."

[davidlynchschreibner]

It seems I come bearing another topical bouquet of fluff rather than the fic I am actually trying to finish. This one is Actual Rubbish and ran away from me a bit. But I’ve always wanted to see closeness and health in Matteo’s repairing relationship with his mother. I do not excuse what we know of the parenting problems that led Matteo to distance himself, however, this is meant to be a positive--- perhaps even sappy--- take. (Should I write one about David’s godmother too? Let me know because I have some thoughts.)

A note: Parts of this belong to a list of headcanons I started before the pandemic hit and as such imagine a world where we don’t have that reality. Is that out of line with the real-world spirit of Druck? Yes. Am I coping with life by writing about what this year should have been? Also yes.

Most Radiant Suns And Sons

For all that he lacks certainty about if he wants to go out with the boys tonight, what mood he will be in the following week, where he will live the month after, and what career he will pursue in the coming year, there are a few things that Matteo is sure of. One of these is that he loves his mother. Even in the stifling mineshaft of his depression he had never fully divorced himself from wanting to be near her. Indeed, if he did not love her with the strength he does he would never have grappled with their relationship and stressed over her reaction to certain elements of his person. Instead would have simply excised her in all but name from his life as he had his shitty father. Not every person is given to this kind of bond to their mother and there was nothing whatsoever requiring him to welcome her back into his life. But no matter what bitter edge his references to her had acquired in past painful periods, it was only the gritted teeth tone of an injured person and never real resentment.

That was the hardest part of it all, really, that he was so overwhelmed and exhausted he had to withdraw for his own sake. He had needed to be free of the sucking drain of his mother’s downward spiral. It was impossible to be there when his own developing depression rendered him inert by spreading numbness from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t care for another person, should never have had to, as he slowly surrendered to the weight of shovelfuls of damp earth burying him alive. Yet in the same breath that dismissed her he sighed with missing the lightness of Mama’s laugh and the slow flow of her hands carding through his hair. He pushed her away, cast his eyes to the ground, but could not tell her to stop calling him. However many congested streets and neglected texts he positioned between them there remained (in dim corners he avoided examining) a craving for tenderness and acceptance.

Their reconciliation was a soft-spoken and understated process. It came as the slow creep of dawn, a gentle spilling of light into the dark expanse of a troubled time. There was no reproach nor tense conversations. They spoke little of the past estrangement, save for the day Mama drew her son into the safe harbor of her arms and whispered her apology into his open ear. Matteo blotted the tears that came to his eyes on her shoulder and murmured back in kind. There was no need to unpack and pick through each mistake and no blame to assign. Proceeding amends were made with time spent in building a more stable place for their bond to live. Bricks of mellow afternoon visits, insulation of long hugs and kisses pressed to Matteo’s brow, wires of smiling conversations, carpet of revisited memories from happier periods of childhood. They came to each other as new and bettered people with a long future ahead.

On the opposite side, David didn't anticipate ever having a relationship with his boyfriend's mum beyond polite interest. He had no intimacy and little contact with the woman whose body had sculpted him and his godmother’s affection was backed by a lifetime of filling that void. The potential for rejection had been in his mind as the dull ache of a yellowed bruise when they went to meet Matteo’s Mama. She greeted him by clasping his hand in her fine-boned fingers and telling him she wished they had met sooner. Her voice was soft like a lullaby and she regarded him with eyes that promised multitudes of care. Perhaps he should have expected she would step over the threshold of his increasingly populated bunker and plop herself onto the bare floor the same way Matteo had. She never treated him like a stranger; instead she still looks at him with the same saltwater-blue wave of fondness that her son does. 

After months of getting to know and trust her David felt it was safe to explain the part of him that provided context to stories of the rocky start to his relationship with Matteo. Though her inexperienced confusion showed in the wrinkled skin around her eyes and a halting request for clarification, she received his explanation without resistance. Her reassurance that this would not change her perception was the kind of compassionate acceptance he wished his own mother had offered. Never once did she make him feel any less than he had been when she thought he was cis. She affirms him by treating him exactly the same as her son, aside from the little opportunistic affirmations she includes to make warmth swell inside him. He can see the protectiveness coiled in her shoulders when he mentions his past, a readiness to defend him from the whole world if she has to. There is a space kept for him in the circle of her sun-freckled arms. He well and truly loves her.

When the pleasant weather of 2019 began to fail everyone unconciously clustered closer together as if to keep warm. Filled by a renewed craving for home and closeness Matteo and David set aside one night each week to have dinner at Mama's new flat. It doesn't matter which day it is, or who is cooking, or how any one person is feeling. If Mama is not well Matteo cooks, or if he isn't able then she does, and on rare occasions it's up to David to rally his skills at reading recipes in Mama’s looping hand. But no matter what the mechanics are they make the family ritual work. Their attentive support of each other will catch whoever is sinking to the ground. What began as an effort to reconnect becomes an irreplaceable cornerstone of their lives. It's an opportunity to look after one another that the three of them need after that cold period of feeling so alone. In the humid, fragrant air of a cozy kitchen their wounds scab over, heal, and fade. 

It was actually his mother that convinced Matteo to seek therapy. David never pressed the issue with expectations or made his boyfriend feel broken for the recurrence of foggy moods and anxiety attacks. Not even when they stumbled and slogged through another major depressive episode. All around him people were prepared to meet Matteo’s needs as best they could determine. But braving the elements without a map or proper gear would find everyone in desperation at the end. He came to his decision not through any coercion or frustration but by observing his Mama. Counseling and medication helped her so much and she spoke candidly with him of her mental health struggles as she had felt unable to when he was younger. They have a better relationship now than over the many years of her dipping condition and inconsistent functioning. Matteo wanted to have those coping skills, too, so with the faithful support of his loved ones he sought the resources to help him. 

As spring began to swell buds and moods Mama rediscovered gardening. Her therapist prescribed something meditative with a tangible positive result, and she at first floundered unmoored until Matteo reminded her of the small plot she once tended so skillfully. To gently encourage her confidence he and David picked out a houseplant to gift the next time they visited and the smile she received it with was incandescent. After a few weeks of devout indoor care she broached the subject of planting a small and uncomplicated bed. Matteo grinned with all his teeth when she asked if they would help her. Being plant-lovers themselves the boys took pleasure in joining Mama there. Matteo found a profound connection to his body and its proximity to the people around him with his hands thrust into the crumbling earth. Sometimes they worked in the companionable silence of three introspective personalities. Others, they spoke about deep things as people only do while working. The garden is a good place. There they are putting down a lot of roots and not all of them belong to plants.

Mama has always been a fan of the outdoors, as Matteo recalls from sticky summer picnics and the rich smell of soil on her hands when they cupped his sunburnt cheeks. Not all his childhood memories are happy but the silhouettes of wild grass and lake shores come through a golden soft-focus lens. When Mama discovered David’s athleticism she joined forces with him to plan hikes, swimming trips, and numerous walks. Matteo was not sedentary by nature but he was then getting more exercise than he had since he was a child.  At first he wheezed and dragged and had to be motivated by David’s cunning tactic of turning everything into a competition. (It worked, mostly, save that time they were overly ambitious enough to try hiking in the Grunewald for an entire day and Matteo was so tired he sat down right in the center of the path.) Yet he didn’t mind the way his limbs were like ungainly cannons as he towed them up the stairs following a day of walking. At odds, his chest felt light and well aired out. 

When the summer set in fully Matteo found himself more often outside, be it jogging slowly after David while he ran in the morning, tending the garden with Mama (he discovered he finds pulling weeds cathartic), or engaged in some activity with his friends that required him to move more than his heat-softened limbs would like. He would once have complained of the insidious sunburn that always seemed to find cracks in his suncream application and pools of sweat that made his clothes clammy. But that was another time and another Matteo, one younger and less conscious of how special his relationships are. He loves all his people with the deceptively muted fire of a star, no matter what it is they ask of him. When they set themselves up for a day in the park the world seemed to roll wide before him. There was nothing on it he loved more than seeing the happy flushed faces of his favourite people glowing in the sun.

It was a surprising revelation that Matteo gets his sense of mischief from his mother. She has the peaceful face of a fresco saint and speaks quiet like they're in church but her son has her heart. David was thrown at first by her playful, teasing, impish side. It flickered up like bright sparks and the first few times Matteo seemed to cringe away as if he too was surprised. But over time he rediscovered a long discarded rapport and began to play back. David watched with laughing eyes and raised brows when she and Matteo got going at each other. And it wasn’t long before Mama started teasing David too. For such a kind person she could be a bit of a menace. It was completely endearing and welcome. She stuck soapy hands in her son’s hair to make horns and Matteo squawked then retaliated by swiping bubbles under her nose like a mustache. It was the kind of absurdity David had never imagined such a quiet woman could perform. He thought it fantastic.

She had met them briefly when Matteo moved in but it took time and meditation on the prospect to invite Mama into life at the WG. It was not a matter of shame regarding either party. He wasn’t certain of a friendship between a relatively conservative older woman and the youthful wildness of his flatmates. But he knew that to bring his mother fully back into his life this important part of it needed to be shared. He needn’t have worried. Mama loved Hans, who learned quickly that he need not don a costume to earn her respect. They spoke to one another with the soft intimate tone of kindred spirits united by their common depth of caring and love of one particular boy. Victoria flitted around like a bright bird that made Mama smile warmly and rest her hand upon its head. Though she was not over often due to being easily tired the WG was happy to tuck her into its embrace. With his Mama, David, and his flatmates arranged on furniture around him Matteo felt completely and contentedly at home.

Matteo had never experienced the sort of profound faith his mother enjoyed. Church was more a cultural experience than a religious one. Whenever she felt up to it Mama read stories from the bible to him before bed but he never did internalize them as divine truth. He enjoyed the reverent music and beautiful architecture as a child but felt always a little drained after service. The one thing he had an affinity for was choir, though he abandoned that activity when he was old enough to be concious of how uncool it was. Church was not something which he would attend alone but did so on occasion to spend time with his mother. She took immense comfort and pride in sharing her sacred experience with him and he in turn felt a modicum of satisfaction when she beamed at him over the pages of her choir book. Sometimes David joined them. Those services were the best, when Mama radiated joy on the right side of Matteo and he had David’s warm hand curled in his left.

Mama once him that he is the light in her world. She tips her head back to look at him like a person enjoying the sun after weeks of overcast weather. So he tries to show her his brightest face. He knows she is proud of him regardless of what he does in life. When he is slow to make decisions or arrange important sentences she tells him that he cannot disappoint her. Whatever gives him nourishment is what she dreams for him. It’s a comfort to know he doesn’t have to strive to make sweeping changes to the world and lofty successes to be valuable. It is possible to be wholly a sum of his many individual parts, imperfect as some are. Mama admires the gentle halo of his warmth, the wicked tilt of his smile as he sweeps mischief onto unsuspecting moments, the clever snap of his tongue and his restless fingers, the immeasurably gentle way he clasps close those who are struggling. He is her beautiful boy and she would want no other.

He is proud of his Mama, too, for taking the difficult steps that had moved her from the bottom of the hill to climbing its side. Sometimes she stumbles, slides back, even has to stop and sit for a bit to give her lungs rest. But she always digs her walking stick into the ground and begins the ascent again. Her legs burn with the strain but she does not let it stop her. Once Matteo had experienced deep dread that he was just like his mother. It had seemed to be so when he lost all interest in participating in the world. He sees now that it was true in its way: he is like his mother. But she passed on to him more than her sadness. Like an ocean of kindness she washes into him, their borders delineated by landmasses and temperature but ultimately comprised of one great expanse of water. They are not the same, he would not have it so, but he is no longer afraid of how they are alike. He has joys and and struggles and fears and victories the same as she. And Matteo loves his Mama.

[ao3bronte]

Obey

0 | 1 | 2

Warnings: Characters are aged up but still drinking underage (legal drinking age is 18 in France). Wild parties, hypnosis and NSFW themes will ensue.

It's barely a few strokes past midnight, but between the Armin Van Buren thumping through the walls of the houseboat and the alcohol coursing through her veins, Marinette can't tell whether she's coming or going. It's unusual for her to actually let herself go, even if her intentions had been entirely pure before the night began; unlike her friends who partied regularly every weekend, Marinette rarely ventured further than her bedsheets on a Friday night in case of an akuma strike.

But tonight was different.

Luka had just scored a record deal with the same label that represented Jagged Stone and Juleka was hosting a celebration party in his honour on their houseboat. This was huge news, especially for her friend and former flame, and Marinette was thrilled to support him. She'd spearheaded the effort by bringing him a guitar shaped cake and caved when Mylène offered her a shot of caramel apple flavoured vodka during their celebratory toast. After all, if she could handle half a dozen kwamis leaching off her energy, certainly she could certainly handle a shot of alcohol without falling on her ass, right?

Famous last words.

While her friends had garnered a certain level of alcohol tolerance over the last few years of raging lycéen house parties, Marinette had always been the DD, the group Mom, the one who would call her friends an Uber and send them on their way with a bottle of water and a pat on the head. Building up an alcohol tolerance was hardly something Marinette even considered simply because drinking wasn't an option when she was a superhero and her friends accepted the fact that she didn't drink, especially since she was nearly a year behind them in age. It was normal, until Mylène offered her a toast and emboldened, she scarfed it down with nary a care in the world.

Choking and coughing as the fire water burned a trail down her throat, Marinette braced herself against the ship’s deck and grimaced while Alya thumped her on the back. She blinked the tears from her eyes and gasped for air as her friends eventually took pity on her, offering her a glass of water which she gladly gulped down to try and extinguish the burn. Why did anyone willingly drink this stuff? It hurt! 

“Trust me, you’ll understand why in a few minutes,” Alya assured her, taking the empty glass of water from her hands, “You just started off with the hard stuff. Hey Juleka, did you guys make any Jungle Juice?”

“Did I make any Jungle Juice...pfft,” Juleka parrots incredulously, rolling her eyes from behind her bangs, “Luka, grab the coolers from the galley!”

She felt a little more at ease by the time Juleka topped up her second helping of their infamous "Jungle Juice", a boozy, colourful concoction that no one really knew the recipe to. Usually, the Couffaines would charge a few Euros per person for access to the house drink but their friends hadn’t even blinked an eyelash when Juleka had given Marinette a stamp on her hand and a drink for free. This was their tiny, alcohol virgin Marinette after all; everyone knew that one red cup of Jungle Juice was all it would take before she passed out on Juleka's bed for the rest of the evening.

Except, one hour and a hundred new guests later, Marinette was still bouncing off the walls with the best of them.

The beat is addictive and Marinette moves her hips to the mesmerising tones, the rhythm of the bass pulsing in time with her heartbeat as she takes another sip of the mysterious purple concoction in her solo cup. She drops it low and whoops as Rose dances alongside her, their thighs grinding together as they giggle at the intimacy of it all. Is this what she'd been missing out on all this time as the sober sister? She felt so free! There was no responsibility here, no homework or crime fighting to keep her down. It felt strange, being herself like this without the looming sense of foreboding lingering over her head, as it often did, especially when she was alone at night. 

“This is awesome!” Marinette cries above the music, giddy as Rose takes her free hand and weaves their fingers together. Her body feels lighter than it has in years, but she still feels enough like herself to keep her wits about her; when Aurore had warned her about the creepy boy pressuring a girl from their grade to dance with him, Marinette had approached Juleka about it and he was thrown out of the party on his ass within minutes! Marinette could handle a little alcohol after all and she was puffed up and proud of herself for being able to keep her head above water, so to speak, even if she'd lost feeling in her fingers and cheeks long ago.

Closer to midnight, Adrien and Kagami strolled across the gangway and the whole party seemed to pause and soak in the moment, nearly bursting with joy at the sight of them. Adrien and Kagami were never allowed to come to their ragers and Alya confirms Marinette’s suspicions straight away as she walks over and outright asks them how the hell they managed to get away from their helicopter parents. Elated, Adrien waves his hands around as he describes how he snuck out of his bedroom window and met up with Kagami in some stranger’s back garden, the latter having snuck out the same way. Together, they hailed a cab over to the Couffaine houseboat, choosing cash over a traceable Uber, and Marinette admired their forethought; if only she were as clever and organised as Kagami and Adrien...maybe she would have already defeated Le Papillon long ago!

"Ooo! I love this song!" Rose cheers, dragging Marinette out of her thoughts and deeper into the throngs of dancing bodies grinding against each other to the beat of Sofi Tukker's latest hit. Distracted by the music, she feels far from claustrophobic; if anything, she loves the way the crowd hugs her body, the heat and the pressure and the sensations nudging her even further into a state of trance unlike any she's ever encountered before. Her heart and lungs tune themselves to the bass line of CamelPhat, the synthesized vocals of Martin Garrix, the wayback playbacks of Tiësto and Marinette's soul seems to dilate to the rhythm of pure, floor-thumping dance music, lost in a drunken flurry of an almost voyeuristic escapade set at 125 BPM.

She runs into Adrien eventually, and Kagami shortly thereafter. He's bought them both a stamp for the Jungle Juice and Kagami looks like she'd rather be drinking water out of the Seine.

"It's not great, I know," Marinette smiles, gently clinking her red cup against hers, "But it's kind of fun, right? Are you having fun?"

Kagami's expression softens, "Are you?"

"I think so," Marinette answers, and it's mostly the truth, "I've been kind of stressed out lately. I feel better now."

"I understand what you mean," Kagami brushes some confetti off Marinette's shoulder and lets her hand linger on the seam of her cardigan, "Santé?"

Kagami holds her drink aloft and Marinette giggles, returning the gesture, "Kanpai!"

~

It’s hard to tell what hour it is when the world is spinning around her ears but she stumbles upon Adrien, quite literally, some time later when she goes to refill her drink. He's chatting with Kim and Alix, the latter of which is trying very hard to keep her eyelids open as she teeters against Kim's side, determined as ever to keep up with him.

"Sorry!" Marinette cries out, feeling a little silly as she extricates herself from Adrien's arms. He managed to keep his Jungle Juice from cascading down her clothing, which is more that she can say for him. He doesn't seem to notice that she's spilled some of her own purple drink on his shoes and doesn't admit to anything as she straightens, red as a beetroot.

"It's alright," he replies, his eyes smiling as he holds on to her shoulders. She's glad for the grounding, considering the way the details of his face seems to blur in and out of vision, "How was last period today? Did I miss anything important?"

It takes Marinette a few moments for her to realise that he’s talking about school, “I don’t think so, really. But maybe…” she trails off, staring skyward at the cloud cover overhead, “Oh, I think M. Legars posted the rubric for our next assignment on Google Classroom?”

“About time,” Adrien’s lips quirk at the corner, “I was beginning to think we’d be going into midterms blind.”

Marinette shrugs, “I guess not.”

“I guess not,” he mirrors, offering her a smile, “This is a pretty awesome party. I’m glad I could sneak out and make it.”

“I’m glad you could too!” Marinette exclaims, her voice coming out a little louder than she intended it to. Her tongue doesn’t feel like it usually does and she sticks it out passed her lips to give it a stretch, much to Adrien’s amusement, “I mean, it’s just like...it’s good that you could come to support Luka!”

“He is a pretty awesome guy,” Adrien takes a sip of his drink and makes a face, “Ugh, this stuff is awful.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Marinette assures him, bumping his elbow with her own simply because she feels like it, “I’m on my second cup and I can hardly taste it anymore.”

“That’s...encouraging, I guess,” Adrien takes a bigger gulp and swallows it with a hiss and a shake, “Hey, I heard you brought Luka a cake earlier. Is there still any left?”

Marinette’s eyes light up, “Oh yeah! There’s still a little bit left I think, but we put it downstairs in the galley so it wouldn’t get all gross,” Marinette explains, her words coming easily to her now. Since Adrien had begun his relationship with Kagami over a year ago, things between them had become much more relaxed than she could have ever expected, “If you go down those stairs over there, the galley is the first door on your...right, I think.”

“Thanks Marinette!” Adrien grins, squeezing her shoulder gently, “I can’t wait to try it. Alya says it’s red velvet?”

“With blue and purple cream cheese frosting!” Marinette wriggles her body, his inhibitions long forgotten, “You’ll love it!”

He laughs, “Perfect, I’ll go get a slice for Kagami and I right now.”

“Okay!” she waves him off as he walks around her, leaving her all by herself on the deck. There are feelings swirling in her gut and try as she might, she can’t seem to pull her thoughts together and understand them. What was she even thinking about a moment earlier? She peers across the throng of partygoers and notices Kagami standing on the sidelines, nursing her red solo cup as Nino chats beside her about something or other. Marinette feels a little bad for her, but at least she’s been able to make a few friends at the party. Adrien is a natural social butterfly and she’s glad his affable and generous nature is helping Kagami come out of her shell.

Smiling, Marinette shrugs and turns back towards the party on deck, already half forgetting her conversation with Adrien in the first place.

She’s over near the captain’s bridge taking her chances at another shot of vodka with the girls when a crackle of thunder and a bolt of lightning careens across the sky. Her hairs stand on edge as Marinette glances upwards, frowning as another crackle of energy lances through the clouds like a spiderweb. She follows the bursts of light with her eyes until her suspicions are confirmed and the horrible realization sinks like a stone in her gut.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight,” Marinette murmurs, wincing as the light burns through her vision. She hears Alya pull her mobile out beside her and glances down at the weather app.

“It’s says it’s supposed to be clear,” Alya reads the temperature, then flicks the screen to the radar, “There’s something over Paris though.”

Mylène looks over Alya’s elbow, “That doesn’t look normal.”

“Nothing is normal in Paris,” Alya snorts, shoving her phone in her back pocket, “Hopefully it blows over soon.”

“Unless it’s an—”

Rushing up from the wind through the trees, the keening wail of the akuma alert sirens around Paris confirms it.

“AKUMA! GET DOWN!”

Another crackle of electric energy bends wildly across the sky and Marinette braces for the static that scrabbles at her ears and her hair, feathering fear up and down her spine.

“It is I, Mesmer!” a disembodied female voice cries from above their heads, the source still hidden within the clouds, “I will reveal your darkest desires to everyone, just like it was done to me!”

Marinette swallows and looks around for the nearest door.

“No longer will you be forced to keep your secrets inside! No longer will you have to hide what you truly are, what you truly long to be!”

The doors are shut. The way is blocked by panicking partygoers, all surging for the exits.

“Look at me!” the voice cries, and everyone’s neck jerks upwards unbidden, “You will heed the sound of my voice! Let me inside your minds! Let me see your souls, and set them free!”

Marinette tries, she really does, but the voice...it...she can’t...it’s…

“Hello Marinette,” the voice cooes like a balm of friendship whispered in her ears, “You have constructed a wall around your heart to keep it safe. You will feel much more comfortable if you tear that wall down tonight.”

Marinette nods in tandem with everyone around her, “Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to be with someone, to let them touch your skin and kiss your lips with reverence? Haven’t you ever wanted to be adored, doted on, appreciated for your beauty, your grace, your kindness? Haven’t you ever wanted to throw away your responsibilities and let your hair down for a little, free to kiss and be kissed by anyone you choose?”

She feels her stomach quiver with anticipation, “Yes.”

“Then I want you to tear away your inhibitions. I want you to be yourself and embrace the girl you truly want to be. I want you to find the object of your adoration and show them what it would mean to be your lover. I want you to find your friends and show them that you’re not the pushover they think you are.”

“I will.”

��You are the strongest mind I have encountered,” the voice commends, dripping like honey, “I like that. I want to reward you, celebrate you. I want to make you their Queen.”

“I will rule them.”

“Release your inhibitions. Stand free and proud of what you truly want to be.”

“I will be free.”

“That’s it,” she commands, her influence combing through Marinette’s hair like wisps of cloud, “What will you do first?”

Marinette tugs the ties from her hair and gasps, the sense of euphoria overwhelming.

“Do you like that feeling? Would you like more?”

She nods, tugging on her lip with her teeth as red hot pleasure oozes at the base of her spine. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt before and she thrives on the way it makes her muscles loosen and tighten at the same time, completely in control.

“Show them. Show them the true Marinette. Show them the force of nature you can be.”

[thran-duils]

Key to the Garden (P.1)

Title: Key to the Garden (Part One) Summary: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Witch Reader (main pairing), but on the side, Dark!Tony Stark x Reader, Dark!Sam Wilson x Reader, Dark!Zemo x Reader. Y/N lives in one of the many fringe covens with her family along with a few other small families that did not want to be roped into the powerhouse coven community, Shield, ran by the Maximoff, Stark, Wilson, and Zemo witch and warlock legacies. Y/N’s grandmother had a run in with the coven community in her youth and she is mostly mum about the incident, but makes it clear that Y/N should stay as far away as she can from them. But when the Shield community discovers where their community is and demands they send someone to teach at their school for upcoming magical beings with threats and when it is demanded that someone from the Y/L/N family be the volunteer, Y/N does not resist to make sure no one else is subjected to them, much to her grandmother’s dismay. Little does Y/N know that a particular head in the community had been searching for them for a very long time and she is going to satisfy a very, very long held grudge. Word Count: 1,893�� Warnings (more may be added): Non-con, dub-con, emotional manipulation, imprisonment, orgy, forced pregnancy, death, violence, 18+

Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

Your grandmother grasped your hand tightly as you told the soldiers you would go with them in her stead. Your grandmother had foolishly thought that you would allow her to go from the coven to the Shield Academy, the place she had warned you about since you were able to walk. Locking eyes, you saw the terror in her eyes and guilt washed over knowing you were making her feel that. But you were also doing this for her so she did not have to go. She deserved to be able to relax in her old age and live out her days protected in your coven. You had decades upon decades ahead of you.

Tearing your hand from hers, you told her, “Be well. The willow rejuvenates.”

Tears that had been gathering at the corners of her eyes spilled over as she saw you turn away, being guided into the carriage to take you away.

<><><>

Wanda came down the spiral, stone stairs from her tower in a rush. The servants of the academy went against the wall when they saw her coming, backs straight, giving her a deep bow. The hallway was at least fifteen feet across, more than enough space, but it was done out of respect and custom. They would be berated if they walked past her or any of the other leaders. The custom was not bestowed upon merely the teachers.

Turning the corner to face a flight of stairs, she spotted Sam waiting at the bottom. He was waiting for her having known she had been up in her tower for the better part of the morning.

“Heard that they’re back with two carriages from the other covens,” Sam said to Wanda, falling into side beside her as she walked.

“I didn’t see a second, but I saw the one,” Wanda replied.

“Was it who you were hoping? Was it Elena?”

“No.”

Sam’s face screwed up in confusion and said, “Well, maybe they screwed up.”

“They didn’t,” Wanda said clipped, which only served to confuse him more. She sensed his bewilderment and she offered tightly, “I know she’s from the right coven. It was like I was seeing a ghost when she came out of the carriage.”

Sam ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, contemplating as they turned a corner towards the front door. The students in the hall parted seeing two of their leaders, giving them curt bows that Sam and Wanda ignored in turn. Much like with the servants, they were not equals to their leaders.

In quieter tones, Sam asked, “Well, do you think she is going to be able to provide the same—”

“I’m not sure, Sam,” Wanda cut in sharply, an air of annoyance about her.

She was high strung, that much was clear to Sam. She had been ever since she had figured out where Elena was and sent their soldiers out to retrieve someone from the coven, preferably Elena. Wanda had given instructions to suggest her, wanting Elena to make the decision on her own because she knew how altruistic Elena was. She wanted Elena to choose to come back to her, even if it was through unscrupulous means.

The other leaders of the academy – Sam, Tony, and Helmut – knew of the shared past with Elena and Wanda. She had not shared the finer details of their relationship past they had worked together, but Wanda knew the men were not daft – they could discern the intimacy that Wanda and Elena had shared. Had shared… before Elena pulled away, taking her power and just as important, her affection with her, leaving Wanda alone.

When Wanda stepped down into the entrance hall and was faced with this woman, she felt her skin was on fire. All the past touches, and late nights wrapped in each other’s arms came rushing back to her. It took everything in her to not stride forward and encompass the woman to her as if she was coming back from a long journey and was finally back home safe. Wanda only outwardly flinched in her fingers in her inner turmoil.

The young woman’s features were even more strikingly similar to Elena up close. A picturesque witch that threatened from the moment Wanda laid eyes on her to drag her under her spell. Wanda’s lips parted, feeling as if her breath was stolen from her. She was stronger than this, she need not fall under this woman’s spell. But her nose, her lips, the hair… it all tugged at Wanda. The eyes were different though. That may be for the better, Wanda thought to herself. It would help her to prevent herself from confusing the two completely and allowing her past feelings to overtake her in the presence of this woman.

Behind the woman trailed a Cross fox that was curiously looking around the entrance hall. Wanda admired the coloring of it. Its face and legs were black, with trails of black throughout the rest of its orange fur. It was sleek, its eyes piercing. She would need to be careful around this creature.

The woman came closer to Sam and Wanda, reading the signs from the surrounding guard that they were the people she needed to be greeting with how they were standing erect and leaving them their space. She smiled warmly and Wanda felt a pang. The smile was so similar to the one Elena used to give her lovingly.

“Thank you for the comfortable carriage,” the woman said in an even tone.

Wanda saw past the civility though; she was not happy she was collected and taken away. And that was only prodding gently at her mind because she was unable to penetrate further. Wanda’s jaw ticked; Elena had certainly trained her family against mind manipulation; she was going to be unable to capitalize on that. The girl had a solid wall up and all Wanda could do was scratch at the surface.

She gave a curt bow and Wanda gave a tight lipped smile in return. Sam was ever careful about his reactions, gauging what he should do depending on Wanda. Sam bowed his head in acknowledgment towards the girl.

“Your name?” Wanda asked.

“Y/N.”

Wanda savored the way the name would roll off her tongue, her mind flashing to whispering the name in late night corridors, beckoning her to her chambers.

“I’m Wanda. This is Sam. We are two of the four leaders at the school. The others – Tony and Helmut – you’ll meet later at dinner. Along with the other teachers of course.”

“Pleasured. I’ve heard a lot about the reputation of this school. I sadly never attended due to the nature of my coven.”

“Every coven has their own rules, and we respect that.” That was a lie. Wanda wanted every coven under her rule, but it served her now to lie. “You must be tired. Can they gather your things, and you can come inside to have us show you to your quarters?”

Y/N patted her thigh and ordered, “Ember.” The fox came to her side and sat down obediently.

“An impressive choice for a familiar,” Sam told her. “Not very conspicuous to have one trotting after you.”

With an amused smile, Y/N told him, “Oh, she is not a familiar. She’s my pet. My familiar Nyx is somewhere. My cat. She took off as soon as I opened the door, but she will come back. Is that frowned upon?”

“No, familiars are allowed to roam as long as they don’t cause trouble,” Sam answered.

“I promise she won’t. I’m not expecting danger here.”

She was calculated that much Wanda was gathering right now. That last sentence especially was insinuating she was on her toes with the flash in her eyes, ready for them to betray her.

Wanda gestured towards the front door, “We can give a brief tour on the way to your rooms. They’ll bring your things, don’t worry about that.”

Y/N walked forward, the fox following behind. Wanda was taking note the fox looked extremely protective of Y/N. She would soon have to figure out how to separate them or gain the fox’s trust. The latter seemed more likely if she played her cards right.

On the way to her rooms, a long-haired white cat came running up the hall and came to stride in front of them, tossing looks over its shoulder at Y/N, Wanda, and Sam.

Wanda’s brow furrowed; she had never seen this cat before. And that is when she realized it was Y/N’s familiar. The cat was leveling Wanda with a hard gaze even in its brief glances at both her and Sam; it did not trust them, She could sense that.

Playing it cool, Wanda gave a little chuckle, catching Y/N’s attention.

“You named a white cat Nyx,” Wanda commented, amused. “You’ll need a sense of humor around here.”

<><><>

After settling Y/N into her chambers, Wanda had brought Sam away to go towards the south tower where Tony and Helmut were prepping for the spring equinox. Spell bags were scattered along the table, ones they would hand out to select students and allow them to cast them themselves to they could bring renewal to the academy.

Tony caught sight of them entering and noticed her demeanor. “What’s going on?”

“The new recruits we sent for are here.”

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Helmut questioned, a layer of confusion in his tone at Wanda’s stiffness.

Wanda grabbed a handful of jasmine petals from the stone bowl at the end of the room, heading towards the alter. “We are still going to need a sacrifice. Maybe a handful until she gets on board.”

Tony shrugged, “We were expecting that. But light at the end of the tunnel. With Elena here now, you’ll have to work less eventually.”

“She’s not here,” Wanda clipped, her body stiff with her frustration.

Tony’s brow furrowed, “What?”

“She didn’t come.” It sounded like it was difficult for her to admit that. Like she had personally failed.

“Then what is going on?” Helmut asked, taking a step forward towards her away from where he was prepping.

She held a hand up and he stopped. His eyes flicked to her palms, knowing what she was capable of. The three men were powerful, but they could not hold a candle to her if they took her on on their own.

“The plan is going forward as we planned.”

“How without Elena?” Tony asked, sounding short of patience now.

“I have her blood still.”

“Did you go drain her?” Tony asked, his tone getting tighter, breeching on sarcastic. He was an impatient person and had little room for the appetite to put up with people toying with him.

“No,” Wanda said dismissively, walking past them to go throw her petals into the alter for good fortune and protection.

Sam came up beside Tony and Helmut, hands in his pockets. Out the corner of his mouth he said, “The granddaughter came. Wanda is in a tizzy. She expected a crone, and she got the fertile, spitting image.” Tony and Helmut both were heedful at the mention of fertile and Sam did not miss it, a smirk breaking out. Finally turning his head, he met Tony’s eyes and then Helmut’s briefly each before walking forward and grabbing the jasmine petals to offer.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl @namjoonwatcheshentai 

Fic tags: @ivybarns 

[jadekitty777]

Brewing the Storm

Here we go folks! Those of you familiar with me know I tend to have a “favorite” whenever I do a ship week... and this small piece is it! I hope you’ll all enjoy it too.

Day 5: Last Kiss @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 3,000

Summary: With Beacon in ruins and the fallout creeping over the horizon, Taiyang's only goal is to keep his family safe. Even if it means lying to them. [Takes place Post-Volume 3]

Ao3 Link: Brewing the Storm

~

He’d read once in an article found in one of the many throwaway magazines doctors and dentists always set out to preoccupy their patients with, that it was considered ‘healthy’ for there to be conflict in a relationship. The column had laid out bullet points on how fighting could communicate feelings, build trust and even increase intimacy. At the time, young and recently divorced, he’d scoffed at it, certain he’d never read something more ridiculous.

Now, two marriages and two decades later, Tai still scoffed at it as he angrily whisked the egg whites. His scowl only grew more pronounced as he heard the telltale footsteps of his husband entering the kitchen. He had to resist the urge to just turn around and snap at him to get out of his ‘room’, childish as it was. The kitchen door was pulled shut, offering a pretense of privacy before they got started.

“You can’t protect her forever you know.”

And there it was.

“Really? That’s how you’re going to start?” Tai snapped, setting the bowl down with enough force it nearly cracked.

Qrow gauged him as he rounded the dining table, resting himself back against the open end of it. Enough distance to not encroach onto either of their personal spaces, but not so much it felt like they had to shout at one another. Neither had ever been shy about getting into each other’s faces during an argument – but time and experience had taught them that level of aggression tended to drive them into poor directions afterwards. It was never pleasant to have to attend a bar at 2 AM to drag an absolutely smashed Qrow home; just as he knew it wasn’t any more a joy to deal with him locked in their bedroom and unable to come out.

So, they’d long ago made a pact to keep a divide between one another whenever they were angry with each other. It usually made Tai feel a little better, whenever Qrow remembered.

“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Today, he was too furious to even notice. “No, of course you wouldn’t. Because then you’d have to admit you were wrong.”

Qrow scowled, crossing his arms. “Wrong about what Tai? That Ruby should know the eyes that she just accidentally happened to use is going to catch the attention of an enemy she isn’t even aware exists?”

“She’s not ready!”

“Well shit, you’re right.” His tone was mockingly affronted. “Why don’t we get a little care package together for Salem with a little note attached.” He raised a hand, punctuating the air in front of him as if he were pressing the words onto paper, “‘Please don’t attack until Ruby is a full-fledged Huntress. Thanks.’”

He breathed out through his nose. “Quit being an asshole.”

“Once you stop being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?!” He bellowed. “Hundreds are dead Qrow! Students older than Ruby! Some of them were students of ours!”

“And their experience didn’t save them either!” He shouted right over him. “Face it Tai, this isn’t about doing the best thing for her, it’s about you trying to rule over something you can’t control!”

“I don’t want to put another grave next to Summer’s!”

In the wake of his scream, there was emptiness. Nothing in the air left except their harsh breathes and regret.

The first one to move was Qrow – but his destination was disheartening as he yanked open one of the cabinets, pulling out a bottle of rum. He didn’t bother with a glass. “I know, but you don’t get to make that choice. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll let those kids live their fucking lives.”

With those parting words, he left the room.

Tai never felt so alone.

~

A week later, the first snow of the season hit. The storm had blown in overnight, bringing down fat, drifting flakes that coated the ground within the hour and continued on throughout the evening. By morning, mounds of it covered every inch of the yard. The leafless trees bent with the weight and the pine trees in the surrounding forest looked festive with their speckles of green bursting through the ice.

In years past, the first sign of winter had always been met with a level of unrestrained energy. Yang and Ruby would race down the stairs, cheering over the lack of school as Signal would close for the day to allow the students one chance to play. When the girls were young, they’d take them out, where there would be snowball fights and built up forts and, if the storm was really good like this one, they’d go up into the surrounding hills to do some sledding.

As they grew older, neither of the girls wanted to ‘hang out’ with their dorky dads and met up with friends instead. It left the house to Tai and Qrow. Typically, they’d make some homemade hot chocolate, get a nice fire going in the hearth, and bundle up together on the couch and watch old movies until it was dark. It was a relaxing, comfortable way of spending it together. That tradition eventually faded away, as Qrow’s missions took more and more of his time away, until he was almost never back in time for the Snow Day.

It was clear that, despite having everyone there, from the gloomy atmosphere that permeated every nook and cranny of their home, it would be the quietest year yet.

Tai wandered down the eerily silent halls, feeling like a stranger in his own house. Both the girls’ doors were open. With them still gaining back their strength, he wanted them to have a way to call for him if they needed anything. A quick glance into Yang’s room proved she was still asleep – but Ruby was already up. Her back was to the window, eyes intent on something on her phone.

He paused in the threshold, catching her attention. “Good morning. How ‘bout some breakfast?”

“Sure dad.” She smiled feebly. Her eyes looked red around the edges, making him think she’d been up for awhile.

His chest hurt, seeing it, so he smiled twice as big right back, “Alright, it’ll be up soon.” And continued on his way, thinking the world was more unfair then it ought to be.

Getting downstairs only amplified the feeling, realizing Qrow was neither in the living room or the kitchen. He had been spending less and less time home since their argument and they’d barely spoken to one another even when he was around. Not that a conversation was often possible, since when he did bother to return, he was smelling worse than a brewery and acting like his motor functions had been inversed like a bad video game mechanic.

Tai tried not to feel guilty, knowing it would eat at his resolve faster than acid. The rampant increase to Qrow’s addiction had little to do with him and more to do with the sudden chaotic state of the world and the loss of a friend. He was probably feeling confused and uncertain of his way forward without Oz to guide him and-

Focus, Tai. Take one day at a time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Ruby first, then he’d check in on Yang and then finally text his wayward husband after he was mostly certain he’d awoken from whatever stupor he’d drunken himself into. With that battle plan in mind, he started up his playlist on his scroll, pulled out the dough that had been chilling overnight, and got to work.

~

It was nearly an hour later he was sprinkling the last of the powdered sugar atop the freshly made chocolate chip scones. He set a few of them onto a plate, then decorated it further with some strawberries before placing it on the serving tray. He poured a cup of Jasmine tea from the still warm kettle before adding it and an apple and finally surveyed his work. Light, flavorful, and full of his youngest’s favorites that might just be enough to put a real smile back on her face.

With a satisfied nod, he picked up the whole thing and started his way upstairs. As he passed by, he took note Yang was finally up. She was staring intently at a red-eyed blackbird outside her window that caused him to pause. After studying it and making sure it didn’t have a little feather crown, he moved on, knowing it wasn’t Qrow.

He didn’t want to think of who else it might be.

Instead, he stepped into the adjacent room, his daughter’s name already on his tongue.

The tray crashed loudly on the ground as he stared into the empty room, some drawers still open to indicate hastily put together gear and a single note resting on the rumpled bedsheets. He didn’t bother to read it, the horrible, sudden realization hitting him harder than an Ursa’s palm strike. Ears suddenly rushing as panic overwhelmed him, he sprinted back down the hall, leaping over the railing without a second thought.

He hardly felt the way the landing jarred his bones nor the way the cold of the frigid morning clung to his skin as he made his way outside, yelling at the top of his lungs, “RUBY!!”

The silence that replied felt like it might crush him.

Tai clutched at his shirt, certain his sternum was about to snap. No. Nononono. This wasn’t, she hadn’t…

Yet as his gaze fell upon the ground, spotting four sets of footprints heading down the front yard path, rapidly disappearing under the blanket of snow, he knew there was nothing left to doubt.

“God damn it Sums, why is she so much like you?” He cursed lowly, racing after the trail.

The docks weren’t far, just a few miles east. There would be delays, surely. Ruby was certainly still there, waiting for the next ferry. What a rude awakening she would get, when she finds out all she’d been waiting for was him grounding her into next century!

But just in case…

He pulled out his scroll, dialing a number by heart. “Pick up… come on, pick up!”

A click as the line finally opened. “This is Qrow.”

“Qrow-!”

“Unless this is important, buzz off.” Then the voicemail ended with a long-toned beep.

Tai could have screamed. “Qrow, it’s Tai. Call me when you get this. Ruby’s run off.”

He ended the call, only to immediately call again. Each ring seemed to drill at his eardrums until the message picked up again. He cut the call, frustration nearly making him fumble the device out of his hand. Just as he was about to try again, a sharp alert had him pulling it back.

Following after her.

He almost ran himself into a tree staring at that message, the three words saying almost nothing and way too much at the same time. He slammed his thumb into the call button – but predictably, Qrow didn’t bother to pick up this time either. That, or he had already shifted, leaving him unable to answer.

He tried texting anyways. Where are you? I’ll meet you there.

The lack of response stretched on. He tried not to focus on it, pocketing it so he could double his pace, the snow doing little to slow him.

He made it to the moor in record time, but even as he crossed the pier, he knew he was too late. There weren’t many people out and the few that were certainly weren’t wearing a prominent red hood. The Olympia wasn’t in its port either, and as he peered out across the water, couldn’t even spot a speck of it on the horizon.

What did catch his eyes was a little higher, a small form coasting underneath the cloud-line. His heart jumped, and he ran to the very edge of the pier. “QROW! COME BACK!”

His yell was as futile as the last, for the bird did not wheel around nor even seemed to hear him at all. As he watched him get further until he too became too hard to see, a terrifying thought hit him. What… What if that was the last time he ever saw him?

The guilt he’d been pushing down finally clawed its way free. Ravaged up his throat. Stung at his eyes. What a damn fool he was.

He took a breath, but his second attempt was nothing more than a weak, cracking, “Qrow…”

He didn’t expect an answer.

“Yeah?”

He spun almost immediately, his cascading emotions catching onto the ledge and holding tight as he caught sight of the worn and weary huntsman who stood only a few feet away.

He must have looked like quite the sight himself, because Qrow regarded him cautiously, saying quickly, “She’s only got a bit of a lead. I should be able to – Tai? What are you-?”

He crossed the distance between them with a crazed fervor, not letting him duck away as he grabbed onto an arm. Before the other man could even think to fight it, Tai was pulling him into a tight embrace. He buried his face into the side of his neck, breathing in the distinct scent of pine and whiskey that was Qrow.

It was several long moments before the tension trickled away, and long fingers found their way into his hair. Soothing. Familiar. “Hey, what’s all this about?”

“I just,” He tried to say. Like he had tried to keep things together. Like he had tried to lift his daughters’ wounded spirits. Like he had tried to hold onto hope. Everything within him shook. “I didn’t want to last thing between us to be a fight.”

The fingers in his hair froze. Qrow dropped his forehead to his hair, breathing out a frail, “Oh.”

Under the days that had been long and horrible, his emotions finally let go and Tai broke.

He was never one to cry, at least not the way most people did. There was no heaving sobs or hiccups, no wailing in pain. Rather, it tended to come forth with as little preamble as an early spring drizzle, light and almost soundless, but still there wetting the ground. He knew Qrow felt the slide of tears along his neck when another arm wound around his shoulders, his lean body melding against his. He spoke to him in soft, dulcet notes, but Tai didn’t so much pay attention to the words as much as the tone, letting it eventually calm the shivers and the tears.

Until he could find the strength to pull away, just enough to look up at him. “Do you know how terrifying it was, seeing the broadcast get hijacked? Having to go out to protect anyone I could when the panic set in, the entire time not knowing if you guys were alright? I’ve never felt more helpless.”

“I know.” Qrow murmured, the stony mask he’d been trying to keep up since everything went down finally crumbling, revealing the uncertainty and fear underneath. “I’m scared too, Tai. But trying to shelter Ruby and Yang like those four walls are enough to protect them from… whatever’s coming is foolish. And I know you know that, ‘cause you’re the same guy who did everything he could to give them the tools to survive this world.” His hand cupped his jaw, a thumb brushing over his cheek. “So what’s really going on, huh?”

He lowered his head, shame creeping up on him. “It’s just me. You two leaving, putting yourselves in danger – I can’t handle that. I’m not strong enough anymore. Or maybe I never was.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked. Looked up. “What?”

“Bullshit.” Qrow repeated. “Tai, I’ve seen you get kicked down over and over again, and every time you get back up and ask for more. You take chances, put yourself on the line to hurt, in ways I wish I could. You may be a lot of things, but weak is not one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” Tai sniffled, wiped the rest of his tears away on the sleeve of his shirt. “Then what would you call me?”

“Mm… Handsome. Gentle. Kind.” A smirk quirked the edge of his lips. “A little stupid.”

He made an affronted sound, pushing his face away. “You jerk!”

“Heh, not an adjective, but I’ll take it.”

Tai rolled his eyes, but his gaze softened as Qrow nuzzled against his hand. He shifted so he could cup his face, tracing his features, ran a thumb through his scruff. “You’ll watch over her?”

“Always.” Qrow vowed.

“And… you’ll try and take care of yourself too?”

He dropped his chin, kissing his fingers. “Yeah.”

There were a thousand more things he wanted to make him promise – but he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Trying to stall him, so he didn’t have to say goodbye. Never had to feel or wonder if this might be the last time.

He swallowed down another rush of emotion. “And you know I love you?”

Qrow replies, just as he had a thousand times before, “As sure as the sun rises.” before dipping his head, catching his mouth in a kiss.

Tai held him there as long as he could, until he had no choice but to let him go.

Watching the bird take to the wind only hurt a little less this time around. He stayed there on the pier, even long after Qrow had disappeared on the horizon, frozen like the ice around him. Whispered prayers to the Gods above that he’d see his daughter and husband again. Prayed that that kiss would not be their last. By the time he found the strength to move, a scatter of snow fell off him. A miniature storm he could finally let go of.

[chelsfic]

Chapter 8 - Inherited - Dracula/OFC - Dracula 2020 fanfic

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A/N: I ended up just beasting through to post this tonight. Hope you enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Summary: Emilie falls ill. Drac freaks.

***

The fever came on suddenly. Emilie woke as she always did at seven o’clock, in apparent good health. Instead of her old, spartan room in the servants’ wing, she woke to the dark luxury of the Count’s bedroom. She’d slept there since making her decision to return and give herself over to him entirely. Falling asleep in Vlad’s strong arms, feeling the threat of his vampiric power held in check as he cradled her fragile form... it was a deeper intimacy than drinking his blood or making love. He was hesitant to indulge her at first, explaining that a sleeping vampire was a dangerous bed mate. She must not disturb him lest he wake in a blood frenzy and harm her.

“I trust you, Vlad,” she answered him, snuggling deeper into his arms and closing her eyes for sleep. “You won’t hurt me.”

And she was right. It was weeks since they started sharing sleeping quarters and Emilie never felt unsafe with him. She shifted to her side, eyes still blurry with sleep, and watched her Count in his unnerving slumber. He lay on his back, his hands resting on his chest, cold and still as the grave. Once she’d found him terrifying, she could hardly stand in the same room with him without shivering in fear. Now she was drawn to him, she worshiped him as her dark god, longed for him always.  She squirmed closer to him, pressing her warm body against him and nuzzling his pale, cold cheek. Dracula’s lips parted in a snarl and he let out a soft, hissing growl but remained otherwise still. Emilie smiled, she knew it was playing with fire, but some part of her reveled in being this close to danger.

With a final brush of her cheek against his, she crept from the warmth of the blankets and over to the wardrobe to dress for the day. The Count had ordered new dresses made for her. She ran her fingers along the rack of frocks, delighting in the feel of the rich fabrics before settling on her everyday work dress. It was warm and comfortable. She would change before Dracula rose for the evening. He enjoyed seeing his little housekeeper dressed up in finery. But it wasn’t exactly practical for chores.

Emilie still performed her duties as housekeeper. She rose early each day, tidied the Count’s room and saw that the rest of the mansion was well-kept. There was no one else to do these things and Emilie did not see the work as beneath her despite the change in her relationship with her master. Halfway through the morning she began to feel unwell. A deep cough settled in her throat, her nose began to run and chills wracked her frame. She was very near fainting by noontime and, not knowing what else to do in the big empty house, staggered up the stairs to Dracula’s bedroom. He lay just as she’d left him, statue-like in his repose. Emilie stumbled toward the bed and collapsed forward, reaching to him for help.

***

Blood. Hot, pulsing blood. Fevered skin and fluttering heartbeat. Prey. The beast within Count Dracula stirred and his eyes shot open already clouded in the haze of his blood frenzy. He sat up, the covers falling away from his naked chest. Dracula turned to see the prey: a young woman laid out for him like a sacrifice. He scented the air and opened his mouth in a snarl of anticipation. Emilie. Of course, his sweet little concubine presenting herself for him. It was right that she should do so. She was made to be his, to feed him with her life. 

He bent over her prostrate form and grabbed her up in a rough embrace. Emilie’s head fell to the side, limp, exposing the pale expanse of beautiful neck. He could see her erratic pulse pumping away beneath her smooth skin. Dracula acted on instinct, dipping forward and tearing into her neck with his razor sharp teeth.

For a moment it was bliss. She was all sweet innocence, devotion, love. Then the blood turned sour in his mouth and he reared back, gagging. The shock banished his blood lust and Dracula’s eyes faded into alertness. He looked down at Emilie lying pale and lifeless in his arms, blood gushing from a wound in her throat and he felt his stomach sink.

He dropped her onto the bed spread, hands hovering useless over her form and he called to her in a voice brittle with anxiety, “Emilie...darling…. Wake up.”

He infused the last words with a powerful shot of vampiric suggestion and it did the trick. Emilie rolled onto her side, smearing the sheets in her own blood and moaning in pain.

“Vlad!” she cried, reaching for him.

He gripped her arms and turned her onto her back, eyes flicking over her form and making rapid assessments. He hadn’t taken as much blood as he’d feared. He brought a shaking hand to his mouth, dragging his tongue over his fingers and rubbing the saliva into the wound. The wound in her neck closed over. But there was something else the matter with her.

Dracula smacked his lips together recalling the foul taste he’d never encountered from her before. Sickness. Fever. His mind raced back to a few nights prior. She’d returned home early from her weekly visit to her family. There was a fever going round the village and her mother didn’t think it wise for her to linger too long. 

No, Dracula thought furiously, watching his precious Emilie writhe in pain as sweat beaded on her brow and her cheeks flushed unnaturally red. He was so close. So close to at last readying her for the change. He’d built her up, feeding her his blood for weeks to lend her body and mind the strength she’d need to make a successful transition. The thought of his sweet girl becoming like one of his earlier botched attempts at brides...it was unacceptable. He’d taken every precaution. To have her felled now, by a pathetic human sickness. It was unbearable. But the Count was powerless. To drain her now and initiate the change would be suicide.

He must call for a doctor. The decision firmed in his mind but he glanced at the antique grandfather clock in the corner and found it was still afternoon. He couldn’t venture from the house until after dark. Fury overtook him once more but he pushed it away, determined to do what he could to care for her until such time as the Cook arrived to prepare dinner or night fell.

***

He tucked her into her bed in the servants’ wing. He’d dressed her in a long, woolen nightgown and cleaned the blood spatter from her neck. It galled him to keep her in this room which was so decidedly beneath the station of his future bride, but appearances must be kept up and the doctor would soon arrive. As luck had it, Cook had arrived just as Dracula was descending the servant’s staircase carrying the limp girl in his arms. 

The elderly Mr. Carlilse jumped backward with a hand on his chest at the sight, “What have yeh done to her, yeh fiend?!”

Count Dracula rolled his eyes in annoyance and hissed his reply, “Absolutely nothing, you idiot. Miss Emilie is unwell. She needs a doctor. Run into town and fetch one. Quickly! And shut the door behind you!”

Emilie gave a pitiful moan of protest as he lay a cool cloth on her forehead. Her body was wracked with shivers but she was burning with fever. Dracula’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment at the smell of her blood boiling with fever. He slammed his eyes shut to banish the wave of desire.

“I know, darling. But we need to break your fever,” she swatted the hand holding the cloth weakly.

Close to dusk the doctor finally arrived. He brought with him a small entourage made up of Mr. Carlisle and Emilie’s mother, Mrs. Andrews. Dracula beheld them all with a feeling of mild annoyance but ultimate acceptance. They stood crowded in the doorway to Emilie’s bedroom, all of them clearly fearful of approaching the Count. Motherly love finally won the day, though, and Mrs. Andrews broke the spell by rushing forward and kneeling at her daughter’s bedside. She brushed right past the Count as if he were not the dark creature of her childhood nightmares. Dracula looked down at her in bemusement before beckoning the doctor inside and sending Mr. Carlisle away.

The doctor did a cursory examination of the girl. Emilie tossed weakly in delirium as the older man bent over her holding a handkerchief to his mouth and nodding authoritatively. After a few minutes he withdrew and, catching the Count’s eyes, nodded toward the doorway. Dracula and Mrs. Andrews followed him out into the hallway and stood before him in nervous anticipation. Had he not been so concerned, Dracula might have laughed at the scene they presented. A Mother and Son-in-Law anxiously awaiting news from the doctor. But he had no capacity for humor at the moment. 

The doctor slowly shook his head as he explained, “She is in danger. It’s the flu we’ve seen run through the village. Most cases I’ve seen that reach this stage of delirium have been fatal. I’m sorry. There’s nothing to be done but to keep her comfortable. Offer her plenty to drink and keep applying cool compresses. With luck she’ll survive the fever.”

Dracula glared down at the man, probing the fragile barrier to his thoughts. The man’s eyes glazed over for a moment as Dracula plundered his mind before withdrawing in disgust. All he’d found was concern and pity. What had he expected, really. A miracle? A blessing from God for him, a man who had spent his unnaturally long life seeding evil and misery?

The doctor left and Dracula watched, numbly, as Mrs. Andrew’s took up a place at Emilie’s bedside, holding the girl’s hand and murmuring softly to her. He stood rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on the loving scene before him but not truly seeing it. His thoughts raced. He could feel Emilie’s pain, her wretchedness. He could feel her calling out for him to save her. But what could he do? How could he fight such a mundane enemy? The tastes of blood he’d given to Emilie were enough to invigorate her, strengthen her, but they would not be enough for this. She’d need more. Much more.

Dracula stepped into the tiny bedroom. He loomed over Mrs. Andrews, dark and menacing, and placed a clawed hand on her shoulder. The woman tensed beneath his touch but raised her eyes to meet him with a level gaze. She’s brave, he thought, Like her. All the Andrews women were brave, he supposed. After all they descended from the first housekeeper to survive longer than a year in his employ.

“Mrs. Andrews, I’d like to ask you to leave the room for a moment. If you don’t mind,” his voice was all smooth, gentleman-like manners, but she regarded him with suspicion.

“Why?” she dared to ask. He could hear her heart rate accelerating, see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Still, she stood up and attempted to glare at him--no easy feat since she was just as short as her daughter and stood more than a foot lower than he did.

Dracula took her firmly by the shoulders and directed her toward the door with gentle but persistent force.

“I assure you, Mrs. Andrews. I want to help your daughter. But I don’t think you’ll wish to see this, now if you please,” he pushed her out into the hallway and shut the door after her. He paused a beat, waiting to see if the woman would force her way back inside. But she seemed to have better sense than that. 

Emilie lay senseless on the bed. She drew in ragged, pitiful breaths that rattled her whole frame. Dracula moved forward, sitting beside her on the tiny mattress and brushing a strand of hair off her sweat slicked forehead. My poor Emilie, he thought. It had been a very, very long time since Count Dracula had felt such anguish, such...heartache. Not since before he’d turned down the dark path of immortality. The feelings were foreign and unwelcome. He didn’t have the mental clarity to analyze them right now, though. Emilie needed him. 

In a swift, decisive motion he brought his wrist up to his mouth and opened his veins for the young woman who had somehow laid a claim to his soul simply by accepting him and desiring him. He pressed the wound to her lips and waited anxiously as the blood began to flow into her mouth. After a long few seconds Emilie’s eyelids fluttered and she pursed her lips, latching on and beginning to drink the blood that he offered her. He felt his essence draining into her. His history, his secrets, his shames. Blood is lives and Dracula’s blood was a heady mixture of over four hundred years of experiences, dreams, victims, and emotions. He felt it all flowing into her as she drank. He’d never given anyone else the gift of his blood, not in all his centuries of living. Now he gave more than he’d ever given before, feeling his energy flag as she drank more and more until he was drained nearly dry.  At the final moment, when Dracula’s heart froze with the icy nearness of death long averted, he pulled away from her. He sat hunched over and cradling his bloodied wrist. His vision swam and he felt a cloying sickness in his stomach. He sat there, waiting and watching until he could be sure.

Emilie slept on, her face serene and beautiful despite the blood stained lips. He brought a shaking hand up to feel her forehead and nearly wept with joy at the touch of cool flesh. The fever had broken. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically with steady, strong breaths and her pulse beat a steady tattoo in her throat. She was alive and the danger of her illness had passed.

Dracula rose and hobbled to the door, weak with blood loss. He flung it open and startled Mrs. Andrews who stood wringing her hands together on the other side. At the sight of her, the smell of her life-giving blood filling the air, he loosed a snarl from his throat and bared his fangs, eyes a demonic shade of red. The woman jumped back in fright, cowering against the opposite wall. With his last ounce of sense before the blood frenzy descended in earnest, Dracula turned from her, sparing her, and fled out the servant’s entrance. He rose into the night on a cloud of black bat’s wings, hastening forth towards the village in search of fresh blood.

A/N: Well...I really can’t tell if this chapter is any good. I’m anxious to hear your gentle thoughts. I hope you enjoyed it!

Tags:

@charlesdances​ 

@mr-kisskiss-bangbang 

@just-mimii 

@haleyea 

@dracula-s-bride 

@irrelevantwriter​ 

@felicityofbakerstreet

@festering-queen​

@kaddis-world​

[wildsorcerer]

this is the start of how it all ends

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 9 OF ACOC - i needed to write about ruby in the immediate aftermath of ep 9 - read it on ao3

Ruby Rocks collapsed on the rock candy bridge that led from Dulcington to Castle Candy. She could feel something shift, moments before the locket around her neck went cold and dark, the rest of her body with it. She lost all feeling in her limbs, her legs numb underneath her as she shook. Jet died alone, while she was fleeing. Even as the wound where the watersteel had been plunged into her side continued to bleed, Ruby was unsure if she would ever be able to drag herself from where she sat, too shocked to cry yet.

It felt impossible. It felt like a nightmare, too terrible to be true. But when Liam approached from behind, carrying… carrying Jet, she knew that this was no dream. She looked up at him, the red of Jet’s blood mingling with the pink of his peppermint body.

“Ruby, Jet is… We have to get to the castle, Ciabatta could still be out there,” Liam panted, carrying Jet’s body like a baby, her chest unmoving.

Ruby scrambled up, her hands already moving towards Sourscratch. “Ciabatta was in there? Where is he now?”

“Ruby, no, we have to tell someone, get an adult,” Liam tried, moving across the bridge.

“Did Ciabatta kill her?” Ruby was almost shouting now, the whole world was moving too fast. She can’t look at Liam and the body that he was carrying. She had trusted Ciabatta. Even when he killed a mercenary while they stole Alfredi’s secrets, Ruby had brushed it off, even though Jet was worried. 

“Ruby,” Liam hissed, and what brought her out of her anger was that he was crying. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, but she nodded to him, and they set off towards the castle that they don’t yet know is also in danger.

They made their way into the castle through one of the side doors, unwilling to carry the dead princess through the front. The sounds of fighting were not yet loud enough for them to hear. They would have a few more moments of mourning.

“Wait, Liam,” Ruby said, just as they had passed through the doorway, pulling him into a small alcove where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Liam went without resistance, clearly worn out from the battle and the walk. She was as well, but she needed this.  

Ruby finally looked down at Jet’s body. The wound in her midsection was still bleeding, but her face looked the same as always. It hurt more for her to look the same. She reached for the locket around Jet’s neck and unfastened it, looping it around her own neck so that the two lockets connected, making one heart. It felt so deeply wrong.

Liam was crying again, but trying desperately to pretend like he wasn’t. As she was hooking the locket around her neck, he whispered, “She said that you did the right thing. That she loves you. Those were her. Her last words.”

Ruby opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. She could feel everything swirling in her, anger at her own survival instincts, deep fury at Ciabatta, sadness that she hadn’t had the chance to feel yet, and grim resignation to the future. The future where she is an only child.

Out of nowhere, thunderous crashes demolished the quiet intimacy in their alcove. Shouts from the guards all around rang out like bells. Ruby and Liam looked at each other.

This is how the war started.

It started with armies besieging Castle Candy. It started with Ruby and Liam, tucking Jet’s body into a bed so that it would be hidden during the battle, with Ruby locking the door and sliding the key under it, so that nobody would be able to get in without magic. It started with Amethar, unseen, rising from a crater. He fingers the hilt of Payment Day, and is certain who it’s next victim would be. 

Ruby and Liam didn’t mean to split up after making sure that Jet’s body was out of harm’s way. Ruby hadn’t been focusing on where Liam was, her head too full of the image of Jet, looking almost alive laying in the bed where they left her, a smear of blood the only thing that marred the image. Ruby wanted to hold her. She wanted to sit in that empty bedroom in an unused wing of the castle and mourn properly. She wanted to let the battle rage without her. But she tore herself away, leaving Jet again, as she and Liam snuck around, trying to find any ally, since they were too weak to fight. Somewhere in the confusion of soldiers running everywhere, Liam had been lost, and Ruby wandered the castle alone, staying out of sight, looking for her mom, her dad, even Calroy. Any friendly face. 

What she found was Ciabatta. She peeked around a corner and saw him, giving several guards commands to attack any Candians they saw, still dressed like an assassin. Seeing Ciabatta was like poking a new wound. Ruby felt tears threaten to spill, and leaned away, pressing her back into the wall. She knew that her tears were a symptom of the anger that beat like it’s own heart. The Ceresian guards surrounding Ciabatta marched off down the hallway, away from Ruby. She was hurt unsure if she would survive this encounter, but knew that she had to do this. Ciabatta could not walk away.

She peered back around the corner. They were deep in the Castle, battles raging all over the building. Ruby didn’t realize it, but they were only a hallway or two away from the tower where Lapin had tried to teach the two girls about history, spending many hazy afternoons making faces at each other from behind books, linking pinkies under the desks, and whispering to each other about the future. That life was so far away, and neither Lapin nor Jet were here now. She quietly loaded Sourscratch, stepping around the corner and aiming it at Ciabatta, firing before he had the chance to move. 

He staggered back with the hit, but wasn’t down. Ruby quickly loaded again, keeping the bow aimed at Ciabatta’s head. 

“Ah, the youngest Rocks,” Ciabatta said, drawing his sword, advancing towards Ruby. “I was wondering if you would find me.”

Ruby couldn’t think of anything to say. Her words were failing her, the manta he killed her he killed her he killed her repeating endlessly, drowning out any witty retorts she could imagine. 

He was getting closer to her now, Ruby continued backing away, firing once more but the arrow flew over his shoulder. She reached to reload, but as she did, he lunged forward with his sword, swinging with the practice of someone that had earned his power in battle. He was more experienced with melee combat, and sliced through her shoulder, but she dropped, rolling out of the way and firing two quick shots from Sourscratch that landed soundly into his back. He took this in stride, whirling around to face Ruby even as she backed farther away towards the bottom of a flight of stairs, before firing once more, not stopping to see the arrow embed itself in a painting on the wall.

He was strong, quick, and more war hardened that she was, but Ruby was fueled by the mercenary that he had killed like they were nothing. Ruby was fueled by the moment when Plumbeline called out Ciabatta’s name and forced her father into excommunication. Ruby was fueled by chocolate and peppermint splattered on the windows of a cathedral. She was fueled by Jet.

She sprinted up the stairs, finding unnatural speed in the adrenaline. She knew that he would soon get close enough to really do damage, and a bow was useless that close. She stood at the top of the stairs, thinking fast, and grabbed for a small place on her belt, where the water dagger had lain ever since she took it from Keradin. Running a bit farther down the hallway, she raised the dagger, clutching it in her hand, turning to face Ciabatta, who had just finished climbing the stairs. He continued to run at her and Ruby braced herself.

“This is for my sister, you moldy bitch,” she said, and dodged left, out of the way of his sword, slamming the weight of her body behind the knife that killed the Imperator of Ceresia.

He fell to the ground, the bread turning to mush where the watersteel melted him. Ruby stood over him, Sourscratch in one hand, the other putting pressure on her shoulder.

“You...cannot stop the end…the Hungry One must eat,” Ciabatta wheezed, “Candia will fall.”

“Long live the King,” Ruby spat at him, tears falling freely now. 

Ciabatta said nothing more, spluttering as water came out of his mouth, the watersteel making quick work of his organs.

She leaned on the wall of the hallway, sliding down to the floor, unable to handle the shaking that came over her. She cried harder than ever before, Ciabatta’s form blurry. This was the sadness that she had not let herself feel until now. Killing the assassin hadn’t made her feel any better.

It hadn’t brought her twin back. Nothing ever would.

Ruby thought of a day when she and Jet had been children, out on the grounds of the castle, playing war, wrestling and play-fighting Amethar, who pretended to be hurt by their child fists. She wondered where her father was now, if he was winning his battle. 

“Did you know you were killing Jet?” Ruby asked, the tear tracks visible on her face, even though her crying was slowed, “Did you know it was her?”

Ciabatta inhaled like he wanted to speak, but it took him several tries. Finally, “Yes.”

Rage like Ruby had never felt before. She suddenly understood her father, her vision blurring at the edges as she stared at the man that had made her the rightful heir to the Candian throne. Still on the ground, she grabbed an arrow from her quiver, moved to kneel over his body, and plunged the arrow deep into his heart. The watersteel was already killing him, but Ruby wanted to speed up the process.

Before she had wanted him to die alone, but here she sat, watching as life leaves his eyes and the poison eats away at his flesh. She eventually moved away from his body. She felt like throwing up, but settled for closing her eyes, the cold stone floor beneath her reminding her too much of the bridge where the light in her locket died, only an hour ago.

Ruby felt like all of her emotions died with Ciabatta. She felt distantly sad, and will eventually find herself again, but the part of her chest that once housed Jet was hollow, cracking, raw. She held the connected lockets, bringing them up to her lips and kissing them, whispering words of love to Jet.

She was deeply tired, she wanted to rest, to find that bedroom where Jet lay, to kill Ciabatta again and feel something. She didn’t know what she wanted. But she could hear that the sounds of Candian weapons clashing with Ceresian ones had not stopped. 

The war was not over because the Imperator was dead. Ruby Rocks, now the oldest living Rocks sister, turned her back on a murder and went towards the battle, a slight limp in her stride. She went towards her family and her future, alone.

[jade4813]

Temptation, Chapter 3

Title: Temptation

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Iris West is a famous supermodel who has been getting a string of death threats. Barry Allen is the bodyguard hired to protect her. A Westallen AU. Gift for @andie1223​ in appreciation of her grand prize-winning contribution to the 2019 Westallen Sock Drive!

Chapters:3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

  Barry prided himself on always being professional. He had worked as security service for everyone from movie stars to diplomats. He’d once even provided backup security for a visiting duke and duchess who were in line for the throne of a foreign country. At each of his jobs, there had never been a question of whether he would maintain professional detachment. He often got along with his clients. At times, he even genuinely liked them. But he’d never forgotten that they were clients, and he was on a job.

Until now.

He found himself unable to concentrate as Iris escorted him into her house, showing him where he would be staying for as long as they worked together. When she went over her upcoming schedule, he found he was only half-listening, his gaze wandering to focus instead on the curve of her cheek, the gentle swoop of her lips. She was breathtaking.

But he couldn’t afford to give in to the distraction. He was here to do a job. That was it.

“So where do we start?” Iris asked, dragging his attention back to the present. Chastising himself silently, he forced himself to focus.

“I know you probably won’t like this, but there’s a chance the person we’re looking for is someone close to you. Someone who’s had access to you, to your life. Someone you trust. I’m going to need a list of names so I can look into them and rule them out.”

He watched her shoulders lift and fall with the force of her sigh. “All right,” she agreed, changing direction to head to her den. She crossed to a laptop sitting on a desk and opened one of the desk drawers. Pulling out a yellow legal pad, she handed it over.

“What is this?” he asked, surprised that she capitulated so easily. He flipped through the top few sheets to find name after name listed. Some were crossed off, but others had notes jotted to the side.

“That’s everyone who has worked for me, for Linda…everyone who’s worked at one of my shoots. Everyone Linda and I could identify who could have gotten the access to me that this would require.” At his visible surprise, she laughed lightly. “I may not have ever done this before, but it had occurred to me that this person might be someone I’ve met before.”

“Oh. Okay. Um…what about…boyfriends? Is there anyone you’ve dated who might be -”

“It’s not someone I dated,” she said firmly, her face flat and devoid of expression.

He considered pressing the point, but their working relationship was still fragile. He didn’t want to push her too fast. Besides, it would take some time to work through the list of names she’d just provided. So instead, he just offered her a slight smile. “All right.”

He saw her visibly relax and he shot a glance at his watch. “I’ll need to call my team with an update, ask them to bring by some of my things.” He was used to traveling from one job to another, so he always had a duffel bag filled with necessities ready to go. A member of his team could drop by his office to retrieve it and bring it by with his car. “Once I have my computer, I’ll be able to get started. You said you had an event tonight? What time was that again?”

She nodded. “Eight o’clock sharp. But I’m sure there will be plenty of security there, if you wanted to get settled in instead.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?” he asked, his voice slightly teasing.

Iris’s grin was unrepentant. “Can’t blame a gal for trying!”

She could feel his eyes on her as she stepped forward, smiling for the cameras that flashed as she passed by. Knowing he was watching her every move, she swept the slit in her skirt aside, letting the cameras pick up on the long line of her leg beneath the fabric. The slit went nearly up to her hip, and she threw the cameras a flirtatious smile. Though she pretended her actions were for the delight of the watching paparazzi, she knew she was showing off for only one man. Barry.

He was attracted to her. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. And when she’d come down her stairs earlier that evening, dressed in the provocative gold dress on loan for the evening, she’d seen his desire. She’d watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as his gaze swept her body, though his voice was even – bordering on disinterested – when he finally spoke.

She recognized his attraction. His desire. That was nothing new. She often saw it in the faces of the people she met. She made her living off recognizing it. Even cultivating it. What was unusual was the desire she felt in return.

She was attracted to Barry. She had been from the first time she saw him. It was true she’d kissed him to break the ice. Thinking he was her modeling partner, she had wanted to get over the initial awkwardness of feigning intimacy with a stranger. But the truth was, she’d wanted to kiss him, as well.

Standing there in his suit, there had been something about him that was so different from the men she worked with every day. The men she worked with were all attractive, of course. But there was a preoccupation to their good looks – a constant awareness that their appearance had to be perfect, that they had to be ready to show their best angles to the cameras at any given time.

Iris had noticed Barry in part because he seemed to lack that awareness. His suit jacket was slightly rumpled – unfashionably so. His hair was just a touch longer than current fashion dictated. It was a little windswept; not mercilessly held into place through copious amounts of product. She’d been tempted to run her hands through it, to see if it was as soft to the touch as it looked, and had been gratified to find that it was.

It was inconvenient, being attracted to her new bodyguard. At the very least, it was a complication she didn’t need at the moment. But every time she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she felt the same temptation to run her fingers through his hair. Knowing his eyes remained locked on her as she walked the red carpet, Iris ran her tongue along her lower lip, remembering the taste of his kiss.

It was inconvenient, that was true. But there was no point pretending she wasn’t attracted to him. And she had no doubt he was attracted to her. The question was, what were they going to do about it?

Countless times over the course of the evening, Barry had scanned the crowd, watching for Iris’s stalker. For anyone who stared at her a little too intently, anyone who seemed a little too interested in her every move. Anyone who couldn’t seem to look away from her. Anyone other than him, of course; try as he might to keep his attention on the crowd, his eyes kept traveling back to her. The event was attended by models and movie stars, a veritable Who’s Who of A- and B-list celebrities. But Iris outshone them all.

He was attracted to her, and he knew he couldn’t be. He couldn’t afford to desire her when he was supposed to be protecting her. He definitely couldn’t afford to be watching her when he should be watching everyone else. Maybe he should pass on the job – or at least pass it off to a member of his staff. He knew Linda insisted that he work on the case, but surely he could come up with some sort of story that would make her understand. Or at least one she would buy.

There was no way he could tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that he’d almost tripped over his own feet earlier that evening at the sound of her laughter, his heart racing in his chest as he glanced around to see what had made her smile. He couldn’t tell her that the sound of his name on her lips swept across his skin like velvet. That when she smiled at him, she drew him to her like a moth to a flame. That every time he closed his eyes, he could remember the taste of her kiss.

He couldn’t tell Linda the truth, and he didn’t dare tell Iris. So, as they left the event that evening, Barry drove her back to her home in uncharacteristic silence as she gazed out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, as she let them into the house, she asked, “You heading to bed?”

“Not unless you are,” he replied, striving to match the lightness in her tone.

Iris rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You really do take this whole bodyguard thing seriously, don’t you?” But she didn’t seem to expect an answer as she kicked out of her shoes and tossed her bag on the table. “I’m too wired to go to sleep just yet, so I was going to work out. Join me?”

“Now?” he asked in surprise. It was almost two in the morning.

Iris just shrugged and walked towards the back of the house. He followed, surprised when she didn’t turn down the hallway that he knew led to her indoor gym. Instead, she opened the door leading to her back patio and stepped outside.

Barry watched as Iris walked to the edge of the pool and leaned against the doorframe. From force of habit, he scanned the yard, looking for threats, but they were alone. He expected Iris to head to the small pool house, where he imagined she kept her swimsuits and towels. Instead, she reached behind her, unzipping her gown to let it fall at her feet. He gulped when he saw that she wore nothing underneath.

Iris dipped a toe in water, sending ripples across its smooth surface. Lit from below, by the bright blue pool lights, her skin seemed to glow. Like Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, come down to Earth to tempt mere mortals. Or a Siren, leading him to his doom. Wherever she led, he already suspected he had no choice but to follow.

There was laughter in her voice when she threw a mischievous smile at him over her shoulder. “Well?” she asked. “How about it? You want to join me for a swim?”

[kenzieam]

The Tutor - Chapter Three

Pairing: AU Bucky X Levi

Rating: M (my usual, lovelies)

Warnings: language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse

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Levi the jock needs help in high school and her twin brother, Steve, volunteers his newest friend, Bucky. Seemingly just to piss her off, Bucky accepts but soon realizes there’s more to the Levi than she lets the average spectator see.

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I’m an attention whore with cabin fever, I’d love to hear what you all think about my newest story, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE leave a review, my Lovelies!

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Okay... Brock’s dead.... now what??????

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Steve stared at the phone in shock for a beat before looking up at Levi with disbelieving eyes. “Brock is dead.”

Levi turned to Bucky, eyes huge in her pale face, mouth working as she tried to speak. Sudden, unexpected tears glittered in her eyes but there was no time right now to puzzle out why. Steve looked back and forth from his sister to Bucky a few times before pulling impatiently on her arm.

“C’mon, we gotta go! Mom’s hysterical!”

Levi let herself be draw away, but her eyes stayed locked on Bucky’s and he could only stare helplessly back.

What the fuck was happening?

It wasn’t until he heard the screech of tires as Steve raced away did Bucky break out of his stunned trance, looking around blankly as the rest of the world continued on unawares.

Had Levi had something to do with this? His mind mused but he shut the thought down quickly. There was no way Levi had anything to do with her stepdad’s death… right?

Having no heart for Christmas shopping right now, Bucky opted to go home but found himself pacing his room restlessly, body on autopilot while his mind raced over all the possibilities. The way Levi had looked at him when she’d learned, had there been a kernel of guilt in her amethyst eyes?

No. It couldn’t have been, Levi wasn’t like that.

But how could he know for sure, he’d only been friends with Levi for a few months… had both the twins been involved?

This was crazy and Bucky firmly told that part of his brain to shut the fuck up. He didn’t need to watch his sisters tonight and he was desperate to help Levi, anyway he could. Without engaging any more brain cells with potential objections, Bucky stuffed a few clothes into his backpack and strode from the room.

“Mom?” He bellowed as he crashed down the stairs.

His mom appeared, flour coating her hands; the girls giggling in the kitchen told him they were baking together. “What, Bear?”

Bucky Bear. He towered over his mother by a good eight inches and she still called him by his childhood nickname.

“I gotta go-”

“What happened?” Her voice lost its levity, became pure concerned mother. She’d met Levi a few times and seemed to genuinely like her.

“Levi… her stepdad. Her mom called right after school, he’s dead.”

Flour spread to her face as she clapped her hand to her mouth, and it would have been funny under any other circumstances. “Oh no, that poor girl.”

“I’m going over there-”

His mom opened her mouth to argue but Bucky interrupted.

“I’m going Mom, Levi needs me. I’ll stay over if she asks me.”

His mom sighed, seeing she would get nowhere arguing with her firstborn. “Alright, but don’t get in the way.”

Bucky nodded and turned to leave but she called his name again, a hesitation in her voice. Almost warily, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “James, don’t take this the wrong way but… I’ve seen how you look at Levi-”

“Mom!”

“-and right now, she’s not thinking clearly… don’t do anything you might regret later. People sometimes seek the wrong type of intimacy when they’re vulnerable.”

Bucky frowned, the fact that he would, in a heartbeat, give himself to Levi if she asked him was besides the point. “No. Jesus, Ma; how can you even think that right now?”

Color highlighted her cheeks. “Just mind what I said. She needs a friend right now, that’s all.”

Bucky would deal with the absurdity of that later, right now Levi needed him. Nodding once more, he left his mom standing unhappily in the entrance, staring after him as he left.

Two unmarked police cars and unfamiliar Mercedes sat in the driveway and Bucky pulled to the side, out of the way. Fingers of doubt trailed cold up his spine, what was he doing here? He hadn’t been invited; he’d never even been here before. What did he think he was doing, muscling in on this private scene? But the look in Levi’s eyes as Steve had dragged her away made up his mind; her tongue had been frozen, but her eyes had begged him to help. Shouldering his pack, Bucky walked to the door and knocked.

A cop answered, frowning at him. “And you are?” The Sahara held more moisture.

“He’s a friend, let him in!” Steve shouted from somewhere in the background. Bucky held his face neutral, but he itched to sneer smugly at the cop glowering at him. His eyes adjusting to the dark interior, Bucky looked around, searching for Levi.

Spotting her, he strode directly to her, stopping just short of pulling her into his arms. A few feet away, Steve spoke quietly with a detective. Levi stood by herself, her arms hugging her own body and, as Bucky reached her side, she tore her gaze away from her brother and focused on him.

“Bucky,” she murmured, then her face crumpled, and she turned to him as he opened his arms automatically, scurrying into his embrace and crushing her face against his chest. Heart hammering, he rubbed calming circles on her back with one hand and cupped the back of her head with the other, murmuring soothingly even though he had no idea what to say.

Steve finished with the detective and turned to approach Bucky and Lev when a tall man appeared from the main floor hallway. Clad in chinos and a crisp white button-down, he didn’t need the addition of the stethoscope around his neck to say he was a doctor. Seeing the twins, he strode towards them, barely sparing Bucky a glance.

“Your mother is resting.” He stated, his voice low and calming. “I needed to sedate her, and she will most likely sleep through the night. I placed a call to my clinic’s pharmacy; they will be delivering a few prescriptions soon. One is a sedative for if she gets too anxious during the day, the other is a sleeping pill for night. My colleague is a grief counsellor and I’ve asked him to come by tomorrow morning to speak with your mother. He may recommend further appointments; please don’t hesitate to speak with him yourself if you need.”

“Thank you,” Steve answered, stepping away from Levi and Bucky leadingly, the doctor following so they could speak in low voices.

“What can I do?” Bucky asked quietly, at a loss.

Levi didn’t answer, only burrowed closer.

Within a few minutes, the doctor and cops had left and the silence in the house was deafening. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, looking lost for a heartbeat before setting his jaw and turning to walk towards his sister. His eyes flicked to Bucky’s for a moment before dropping back to Levi, still secure in his arms.

“I’m going to go look in on Mom.” He murmured before disappearing down the hall.

Bucky pulled away from Levi slightly, tilting her head up with his hand and searched her face. She tried to smile reassuringly, but the tears still running down her cheeks gave her away.

“Why am I crying, Bucky?” She whispered. “I hated him.”

Bucky couldn’t think of an answer, reaching up to brush her tears away instead. A deep tender desire filled him, the urge to do almost anything to take away Levi’s pain. Unable to find any words, he pulled her back to him; surprising himself, and Levi, if she hadn’t been too distracted to notice, when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Steve reappeared, jaw flexing but relief flashed in his eyes when he saw Levi still in Bucky’s embrace.

“Let’s order out, go upstairs and relax; maybe watch some movies? Okay?” His eyes again hit Bucky’s, telling him he was invited too then looked back down at his sister, waiting for her answer.

Without lifting her head, she nodded against Bucky’s chest.

“Do you need to call anybody?” Bucky asked Steve quietly. “Family? Tell them about Brock?”

Steve grimaced. “She’s down for the count right now, but Mom will want to do that herself, trust me. The woman deals with things by going Type A, right Lev?” He tried for a jocular tone, but it fell short and he swallowed, eyes searching his sister’s face before sighing and turning to the stairs. “C’mon.”

Steve lead them to a large family room on the second floor. Like everything else in the McMansion, it was monstrous and sumptuous, a huge 75” flatscreen on the wall and a sprawling sectional in front of it. When Steve went downstairs again to answer the door to the pharmacy delivery and order the pizza, Lev took the opportunity to start pushing around equally enormous cushioned ottomans, creating a large, padded platform inside the sectional, a veritable nest piled high with blankets and pillows. Larger than a king-size bed, there was room for all three of them to spread out, but Bucky doubted Levi would stray too far away from either him or Steve.

When she was finished, Levi tugged distractedly at her shirt, then glanced up at Bucky. “I’m going to have a shower and change.”

“I’ll go help Steve.” Bucky supplied, flashing her a reassuring smile before turning and hurrying downstairs.

Steve sat at the kitchen island, fingers tracing the pattern of the butcher block distractedly. Hearing Bucky, he glanced up and gave a weak smile. Bucky took the stool next to him but didn’t speak.

“Aortic aneurysm.” Steve finally murmured. “He came home early from his office; told Mom he had a stomach-ache and collapsed.”

Bucky remained silent, knowing his participation wasn’t wanted or needed right now.

Steve huffed out a loud breath as he scrubbed his hands over his face, turning it into a long, drawn out growling sound before dropping his hands again and staring hard at a small scabbed-over mark on his knuckles. “The man’s done nothing but make mine and my sister’s life hell for the last ten years and then he has to up and die, just blink out like a fucking light.”

Without paying for his sins, Bucky heard clearly. Reaching over, he rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder silently and held it there. Steve glanced over at him and flashed a hard grin, opened his mouth to say something more but the doorbell interrupted him, and he stood wearily to answer it. As he passed Bucky’s back, he paused, “I’ll be up soon, can you go sit with Levi? I don’t know what she’s thinking right now, and it scares me.”

“Sure, brother.” Bucky answered, climbing off the stool and heading for the stairs. The voices of Steve and the delivery person fading as he climbed. Just as he reached the landing, a door opened across the monster family room and Levi stepped out, towel drying her hair. Although she was clad in sweats and a hoodie, Bucky’s man-brain forged ahead without orders and, using the template of her Halloween costume, visualized her curves underneath, earning a stern warning from the rest of his head.

Seeing him, she managed a weak smile and ventured to the platform she’d created, settling down in the middle. Bucky kicked off his shoes and followed, leaning back on a monstrous pile of pillows beside Levi when she patted the spot next to her. The other side of her remained free for Steve and she grabbed the remote, bringing up a variety of menus on the television screen. Even as her thumb tapped at the remote, flipping through menus, Levi’s attention wasn’t on it.

“He’s really dead,” she muttered, eyes still locked on the screen. Bucky turned his head to look at her, but she didn’t look away from the tv. “Bastard spends the last decade with me and my brother under his thumb and then fucks off.” She threw the remote down and wiped angrily at her cheeks.

Bucky rolled onto his side to face her and reached out, taking her hand. She let him, and glanced his way, angry spots of color on her cheeks.

“I didn’t even get to show him.” She continued, her voice low. “I didn’t even get to prove to the prick that I was more than the spoiled little princess he said I was. That I was smart and worthy and going to make something of myself. The fucker got the last laugh anyway.”

“No,” Bucky murmured quietly. “He didn’t. You and Steve win, because you’re still here and you will make something of yourself.”

“I’m quitting the teams.”

“What? But Levi, that’s your-”

“I hate it, I hate them. I’m not as talented as Steve and I was only there for the scholarships anyway.” She turned on her side and clasped tighter at Bucky’s hand, pulling their hands up under her chin. “I want to try Architecture; I mean, I’d be behind all the others who’ve been working toward that for years, but I can take a year off and get experience interning somewhere-”

“Or just enroll in general studies.” Bucky added. With me, at the nearest community college.

“Yeah,” Levi agreed, warming to the idea. “I can work for awhile and save-”

“Or,” Bucky couldn’t help interrupting, throwing out a telepathic “Fuck you, Brock Rumslow’ as he did. “Your mom can take Brock’s money and help you.”

Levi frowned, considering. “I don’t know if I want-”

“It’ll be the ultimate ‘Fuck You’. The bastard held out on you, but you take it anyway; you and Steve deserve it, for all the shit he pulled.”

Levi shrugged, not totally convinced but then the doorbell rang again, and the first real smile Bucky had seen since they’d left school earlier lit up Levi’s face.

“Pizza’s here. C’mon.”

Levi and Steve checked on their mom once more before going back upstairs and setting out the bounty. Steve had gone all out, two large pizzas, wings and a massive pan of brownies from the local restaurant and Levi had raided the fridge, stocking a small wheeled cooler with all manner of beverages. To look from the outside, their actions resembled a party, a feast to celebrate Brock’s death, but Bucky knew it was much more. Sure, there was a relief in the air, but Bucky saw that this gathering was more for comfort and reassurance right now; the twins battening down the hatches and bringing Bucky along with them and that made him wonder gloomily if he was the twin’s only true friend.

Steve was hugely popular, lettered and hero-worshiped for his skills on the school’s teams but those that surrounded him at school were a posse; hang-arounds and fans only. The same was true of Levi, if she wasn’t followed for her own status on the teams then it was due to her being Steve’s sister. They’d brought Bucky into their sectional sanctuary because he was the only one who liked the twins for who they were, not what they were and that simultaneously broke and warmed his heart.

After a brief tussle between the siblings that Bucky wisely stayed out of, a movie was chosen, and pizza slices divvied up. For the longest time after his dad’s death, simple luxuries such as restaurant food had been out of reach for his family and the ability to just sit and feast on seemingly unlimited pizza was a novelty Bucky had not yet grown used to.

As he marveled silently over it, Bucky watched the twin’s shed their masks, the front they put on for the world, and let down their guard. Levi was far from the spoiled princess he’d witnessed at their first meeting on the sidewalk, a soft gentleness about her that thankfully had not been corrupted or shattered by her stepfather’s cruelty; and Steve was far deeper and intelligent than the carefree jock he was forced to play for the crowd. People didn’t like their heroes complicated, nor their princesses bare and natural and perhaps the greatest tragedy that had befallen the twins, beyond an abusive stepfather, were the expectations, the dance they were required to perform as both schoolyard stars and taken-on children of a public businessman like Brock Rumslow.

Before long, the pizzas were all but forgotten and, after both siblings had gone back down to check on and sit with their mother for a while, night was falling, and Levi was yawning against Bucky’s shoulder. While Steve perched a few feet away, Levi had snuggled right close to Bucky, burrowing under a blanket and against him. They shared a stack of pillows and, after a while, when Steve didn’t yank them apart, Bucky even gave in to his cravings and wrapped his arm around Levi to hold her closer. Her head on his shoulder was a comforting weight and, while her hand didn’t stray from its place on his chest, its presence there made warmth seep through his body.

It bordered on heavenly, the chance to just relax like this, and while the reason behind it was unfortunate, if only for the grief it was putting their mother through, Bucky wished that this night would never end.

At some point Bucky fell asleep, and a gentle nudge to the shoulder woke him the next morning. He blinked, inhaling sharply and raised his head, looking around in confusion for the source of the poke. Steve loomed over him, a wry grin on his face.

“Sleep well?” He quipped and, when Bucky frowned, puzzled, he jerked his chin to Bucky’s side. Turning to look, Bucky saw Levi, still curled into his side. His arm was still around her and he’d been resting his head on hers, his face buried in her hair. Levi’s fingers curled into his shirt and she clung to him, spider-monkeyed around him like a body pillow.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled, although he wasn’t really but it seemed appropriate to apologize to the big brother of the girl you had just slept beside.

“Don’t be.” Steve replied briskly, offering Bucky half of his toasted pop-tart and settling back on the cushions nearby. “She needs friends; I need to be her brother.”

“Would you…? I mean…” Bucky broke off, not even sure what he was asking even as his cheeks began to heat.

A knowing gleam in Steve’s eye told Bucky that he’d been paying far more attention than Bucky first realized. “She’s had enough guys mess with her head to get to her body.”

“I would never-”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that she needs, she deserves, something real and genuine.”

Bucky looked squarely at Steve and, although the thought had never truly coalesced in his mind before, although he’d never really let himself explore the possibility and, to be honest, he had no idea where Levi’s mind was on the topic; he knew, deep down in a place that maybe had always known, from the very moment he’d turned on that sidewalk to see who the hell was yelling his name; in that instant that it was absolute truth.

“It’s real to me.”