#the lady that crossed herself and then said 'go back to hell where you belong'

[arrowpunk]

Definitely experienced more blatant directed homophobia today than I probably ever have before so that's fun

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Van's apartment (formerly Regan's) PARTIES: Van, Jade, and Regan SUMMARY: Regan, Van, and Jade had the best laid plans for packing dead mice into boxes. It goes awry. CONTENT: Domestic abuse, parental death (mention)

"I DIDN'T DO THAT!"

“So, is the mirror in the bathroom still broken?” Jade wondered out loud, from her position on the kitchen counter. Her feet swung casually, taking in the room she had only seen briefly before. 

She loved being back where it all began, actually. (A little #TBT) (Even if it wasn’t Thursday, technically). Thanks to Van, who casually let it slip that Regan would be at the apartment doing some mice packing. It looked accidental, but also… maybe Van was a mastermind trying to get the two of them in the same room. (She would respect that, so much, actually) So, of course, after Jade gave the girl a ride home, she ended up inviting herself to that infamous second floor. ‘Cause…why not? 

Jade hadn’t seen so many boxes stacked since she tried playing that one Unpacking game and got distracted. There were like, too freaking many of them. ‘This isn’t gonna work out’ was at the tip of her tongue. Maybe even further than that. The math… wasn’t there. But she refrained from chiming in with unnecessary observations (even when she was totally right), cause Regan needed a yes (wo)man, and bickering about her plans was so not how Jade wanted to spend one of her last nights with her. Plus, no arguing in front of Van, obviously. (That would definitely make her anxious). Nope, Jade wanted to enjoy the night with two of her favorite ladies, even if they were packing dead mice in… not enough boxes. (By her calculations). Even if said packing helped Regan reach her goal of ditching them for Ireland. (Booo!)

A teasing smile reached her lips as soon as Regan’s eyes were on her. She was so close to wiggling her eyebrows but shoot, no flirting in front of Van either. Right, yup. She could do that. Mhmm. She stopped moving her legs and straightened her back, waiting to be bossed around. Cause Regan probably had like, a specific system for packing right? She wouldn’t just wing it. She probably had them separated by fanbases. Or how long they’d been dead. Or maybe by the level of cuteness. That was also a super valid way to organize anything, really. Yup. And…um, by the by, how exactly were they gonna handle the mice?

That thought made her gaze flicker to Van. Who looked… well, she wasn’t having as much fun as Jade was, for sure. With a sigh, she slid off the counter and sauntered over to the girl. “All good here, babe? We’ll be done so fast you’ll finally have your freezer back for Vegan ice cream”. 

—

Van wasn’t sure if telling Jade that Regan was coming by to pack up some of her belongings had been out of respect for… whatever the hell the two had going on, or because she was afraid the older woman would sit on the floor and therapize her. Whatever it was, as she looked from Jade who sat on the counter to Regan as she taped over one of the (many) boxes, she felt a little less anxious than before. 

She moved from the side of the counter that Jade was seated on to the opposite side, grabbing another roll of tape. There were not enough boxes for the amount of mice that Regan had. She couldn’t believe that there’d been more. Had she been sneaking in to put more in the freezer? Was there some secret, second freezer that she didn’t know about? Why didn’t Regan’s own living quarters have a freezer? Was she living in a bone obsessed crypt or something? Van held out the tape to Regan before she looked over at Jade who approached her. “Vegan ice cream? Why would I eat vegan ice cream?” The last time she had tried, she and Thea had nearly been… well, she wasn’t sure what almost happened, but maybe vegan ice cream was the answer to her problems. “Vegan.. right.” She gave a small nod before crossing her arms over her chest, gaze flickering over the boxes and mice. “Dr Kavanagh, are you sure… you want to take the mice with you? Can’t you just find mice there? Wouldn’t that be easier than like, going through customs or something?” She’d never been abroad, except for Canada, and that’d been while driving, so she couldn’t wrap her head around what she might evoke with the mice being attached to her name. 

“Do you think they’re going to think that you’re trying to start a new plague or something?” She arched a brow and tilted her head, looking over at some of the frozen mice that she could see. “I know they’re… frozen and stuff, but like, aren’t the icebergs letting dangerous old sicknesses escape while they’re melting or something? Could that happen with the mice?” She still didn’t understand the mice, and while a part of her was glad to see that they’d be gone from the freezer, a part of her was sad, too, because it meant that Dr. Kavanagh would be gone. 

—

Regan couldn’t explain why she had offered to have Van help her pack up the mice. Maybe because they were in the same place, anyway. Maybe because it would have pleased Jade to learn that. Maybe because she thought it would quell that pressure in her chest that grew as quickly as the departure date on her plane tickets neared. It was an unusual invitation of closeness from her, though, and it was fated to be one of the last. She tried not to think about that. Lasts. Like the moribund. Was this really so different?

She had been engrossed in laying the mice out and hadn’t noticed the two sets of footfalls coming through the door. As soon as citrus wafted toward her nose, her entire body turned, and her skin burned like she’d been caught in the act of… something. Of course. Van told Jade, and Jade wasn’t going to be left in the cold. Regan’s knees suddenly became defective, and her eyes darted between the two of them. Jade and Van were close, but this still seemed like some sort of collision that was never supposed to happen.

“I –” Actually, she snapped her mouth shut. Better to just proceed. Carry on. Jade was always supposed to be there, no matter when and no matter where. Provided they could keep it together in front of Van, which was not a given, considering they were seemingly incapable of even walking twenty feet without mercury shooting out the top of the thermometer (and she made a mental note to herself to never get one of those old thermometers; they were no longer compatible). “It’s, um, good you’re both here,” Regan finally said, once she managed to stretch her usual equanimity over the shock, “A lot of mice, you know. So… so many. What do you think the collective noun for mice is? Oh, there are gloves on the kitchen counter.” 

Watching Jade strut around the apartment, it occurred to Regan that the two visitors were more at home here than she was. It was right to leave it with Van.

The whole process was, of course, elegantly organized. She had a box for every batch of mice (or fanbase, as Jade called them), totalling a staggering 7,000 mice. The boxes were already lined with material to keep them cool during shipping, but that didn’t stop the air in the apartment from taking on a tinge of the first inklings of decomposition (as sweet as the arrival of spring). They might not thaw through Cliodhna’s whole heart, but Regan would even take an atrium. 

She was too aware of where Jade was, how close, and how far away. And Van looked ill. Or maybe that was anxiety. Van could handle this, right? “I’m not bringing them on the plane, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m shipping them out ahead of time. The b– they – we have an address in Dublin that we make runs to every month or so, to pick things up. They will wait there for my arrival.” The suggestion of finding mice in Ireland was well-intended but lacked understanding. Regan gestured to some of the packed mice with a gloved hand. “It has to be these ones, mice from here. It will indicate to my grandmother that I never stopped thinking about her, even after I left. And… even if they are infected with something, I doubt it would make it to others.” Such was the remoteness. She sighed after, without meaning to. There was that awful itch inside of her, the need to change the subject, and she was not so masterful at it as Jade.

“This one looks a little like you, I think,” Regan said to Van, holding an especially pink mouse up with some fondness. While all of the others looked almost peaceful in their frozen state, this one had its eyes open and an anxious expression across its rictus mouth. “Keep an eye out for a Jade mouse. There’s one in here somewhere.”

—

“Mices. OH! Or, mouses. I bet they go Uno reverse” Jade replied confidently, with a nod and a serious expression on her face. One that she couldn’t hold for very long, morphing into an affectionate smile. She wasn’t totally sure if Regan was asking for realsies or if it was that signature nervous habit going off. (The second option was looking very likely, given her surprise visit). And whoops! Only once Jade slid off the counter she realized she’d been sitting on the gloves meant for handling the mice. Well, duh! That answered her own question. One that she didn’t even get to ask. Did Regan… Was she doing a bit of mind reading? She really hoped not, cause her thoughts hadn’t been particularly clean a few moments before. 

She reached for her pair of gloves, listening to Van make some super valid points about icebergs. But wait…There was an address. Jade held onto Regan’s explanation, prompted by the avalanche of questions coming from Van. So, did that mean… Would they be able to send Regan things once she ditched them for Ireland? (And her stupid sheep). “You’re gonna give us that address, right?” She glanced at Van with a pointed look, fishing for support. What if Van wanted to send her like, drawings or… worms? Van totally needed that address. (She did too, but that was whatever. Pft).

As someone who had learned to read Regan by the way she breathed, that melancholic sigh was interesting to hear. Jade’s eyebrows pinched together. Regan didn’t sigh. Well, she did. But it was so not the time to think about Regan sighing against her. (Welp, she was doing it now). She licked her lips, reminding herself that little Van was right next to her, their shoulders bumping and she had to behave. She couldn’t simply coax Regan to spill her soggy emotions by brushing her hair or stroking her cheek. She averted her eyes, and thankfully, Regan provided some much needed comedic relief (as she usually did). (She was the funniest woman she’d ever met). Her eyes crinkled in amusement, slapping Van’s arm with her glove. She giggled, spotting the similarity “I totally see it. She got you there, Van. Come on!” She stifled her laugh, 'cause Van was her buddy and all, they weren’t supposed to be ganging up on her. Her eyes twinkled as they found Regan’s again. She pointed at her, with a stern look. “You have to let me take a pic of Jade mouse before it goes in the box”. 

Putting on her gloves, Jade was finally ready to actually help, like she pretended she would when she first entered the apartment. She grabbed one of Van’s recently taped boxes and lifted it right as… nope, not yet, was Regan looking? Now. (Crap, she should’ve taken her jacket off, right?) (How else was Regan supposed to know she had muscles?). She shook her thoughts away, carrying the box over to the designated area for all the packed mice. She gingerly set it back on the ground, careful not to damage the goods, and glided to the freezer to give Regan a hand with the box she was currently working on. “I can’t wait to find a Regan mouse” she shrugged, her nose scrunching up in delight.

—

“I think it’s just mice.” Van blinked at Regan, not sure if the woman was being serious or not, but the way that Jade chimed in made her think that maybe she was. What kind of doctor didn’t know the plural to mice? Especially when she had so many of them. Regan didn’t just have one mouse she had a ton of mice. The equation was right there in front of her. Leave it to the person who dropped out of college to figure it out. 

There were so many, and every time that Van thought, yeah, that must be it, more mice showed up. “Isn’t there still customs for that? When I got a figurine before, it went through customs and then it got stuck there and it was a whole thing. That was for plastic.” Van worried her bottom lip before continuing, “I can’t imagine what… mice will do. Dead, or alive.” It was probably better they were dead— perpetually frozen, both in time and in reality. The more she really looked at everything around them, the more it set in that Regan was serious about this Ireland stuff. If Jade couldn’t even convince her to stay, then surely Van would have no shot. She was just some twenty something, after all. The one living in her unused and half-furnished apartment. 

Van looked over at Jade as she spoke up, asking Regan about the address. Van didn’t know if having it would do anything— she didn’t think that either of them could afford to go to Ireland, especially not on the salary that Rocky was paying them. Maybe it was wishful thinking. “We could send you pictures of… bones?” Van offered, shooting a glance at Jade who was…. Looking at Regan in a way that she’d only seen in those flashy teenage dramas she watched. Feeling like she was invading something, she began to tape shut the latest box. 

She looked up as Dr. Kavanagh addressed her, and her jaw slackened slightly. “That— that looks nothing like me, what are you saying!” It was cold, it was dead, and its eyes were open— it was creepy in a way that Van was positive would bring her nightmares later that night. She shivered and shook her head, “I doubt there is a Jade—“ As Jade chimed in about the Regan mouse, Van let out a groan. 

“Can we like, respect the dead mice? I don’t think any of them would want to be me, or you, or you.” She pointed to Jade who was carrying a box to the other side of the kitchen. After taping up the box she’d been working on, she pulled on her own set of gloves (though begrudgingly) and sighed, looking over the dead mice that needed to be put into the box. “There’s so many…” Her gaze reached Regan now, and her eyebrows furrowed, “what does Ireland even need them for, anyway?” Again, she realized, there was that look— this time from Regan to Jade. “Is this like, a way to finally get snakes into Ireland or something?” 

It was a bad joke and she knew it and she sighed, delicately picking up one of the mice, mouth quirked to the side as she tried not to drop it into the box haphazardly, but instead lay it down gently in the way that Regan had done. 

—

At the suggestion of mices, mouses, and even just mice, Regan shot the two of them a questioning look. “A mice of mice? I would have guessed pile. Or stacks, if going by what is in front of us. Oh, or a fester.” And, now gloved up, Jade and Van were really creating lovely stacks. The delicate way they handled the mice did not go unnoticed, and Regan found herself watching the both of them with an equally tender look. She had been right to entrust them with this. Imagine that. The others would never guess that two humans helped her pack these up and ship them off (leath-roghnaithe though Jade was… and a surprise right now). “We have someone in customs,” Regan said simply, as if it were a normal explanation. “What was so special about this figurine that you had it imported?”

She could tell what word Jade was hanging on. She shouldn’t have mentioned it, the address. Of course they would want to send things – at least once or twice, before moving on with their lives. Regan had to move on, too. And such gifts would only hamper her, defeating the purpose of her departure. But how could she look at the two of them – Jade like this changed everything, and Van confused but earnest – and say no? So her mouth hung open instead and hundreds of possible lies churned in her stomach. “I, um, right. But I might not even – the ones picking them up may not bring them to me. Lots of steps. And the car, you know, sometimes it isn’t even operational. So let’s, uh, worry about that later?” She gave Jade a pleading look to not let all of those emotional fluids taint the perfect decompositional ones they had in front of them. It was going poorly. So she cleared her throat and busied herself with the mice, which is what she should have been doing to begin with. 

“It looks exactly like you. As though a hawk is about to come bearing down with its talons, the last thing you will ever see.” Regan clawed the air in imitation. “I will know Jade’s mouth– mouse when I see it.” Moving on. Do not acknowledge. “I like that you want to respect the mice, but we are. You’re serving well. And you should be honored to share a likeness with one, you know. So you have it backwards; we are like the mice, not the other way around. Not all h– not all can be so lucky.” Regan cradled one of the mice before gently plopping it into the box. That one wasn’t Jade. Too tightly curled; Jade mouse would at least have its little paws splayed out. And how was it that she could still feel Jade’s eyes on her when she was looking only at Van? “They’re only for my grandmother, not the entire country… they can get their own mice. And then give them to me, too.” Regan jolted, remembering something; she glanced between them, semi-panicked. “You’re right, though. I need to bring the snakes. I won’t be finding any new ones there.” She only had a few, and surely she could find some space in one of her other boxes to squeeze them in. She’d found space for a lot of things, lately.

And there was still never quite enough Jade. She wasn’t so subtle, vying for Regan’s attention with every glance and swish of her legs (but Van didn’t notice, right?). “Isn’t that heavy?” She asked Jade, eying the box she’d just put down with some amusement. Regan had her own hypotheses about how Jade was able to tackle spawn several times her own mass, and she checked this off as another tally in her evidence column. “There are almost 1,000 mice in there. Which… well, I suppose that’s only about 60 pounds, but that’s ignoring the insulation. Not even a sweat, huh?” She raised a brow almost suggestively, then remembered they were in front of the child. “Um, I mean… no sweating on the mice, either of you. It’ll slough their skin off.”

—

Jade gave Van the proudest of smiles for figuring out it was called a mice of mice. That was Jade’s literal sister right there, a genius. She even beat the doctor’s big brain! (Pile? That was so boring). And actually, it was super obvious to her now, as she said it in her head a couple of times. (Like…duh!). But the joy of Van’s small W didn’t last as long as Jade would’ve liked it. Cause Regan continued with her half-assed explanation as to why she had “forgotten” to mention the address. In fact, she had totally made it seem like there would be no way to communicate with her after she left. Was that it? Did she want to cut all ties, hence the lie (by omission)? Welp, that was Regan’s loss. Jade would’ve sent her dirty letters and stuff, had she wanted them. 

Her frown deepened, and she could feel herself getting riled up, ready to question her further. Get that address. But that pleading look softened her right away (Ugh) (Wait, did she imagine the sound of a whip cracking in the distance?). Jade huffed, her anger melting into disappointment as he nodded her head, signaling she was letting her off the hook. She got it, okay? She wished she didn’t. She wished she could fight Regan about it. Jade chewed on the inside of her cheek, swallowing her annoyance. No bickering in front of Van. “Yup. Later, got it”.

At least her emotions switched faster than those ugly steel mugs from TikTok sold out. As soon as Regan doubled down on her mouse comparison, Jade totally forgot about the address situation. The impression of the hawk almost sent her over the edge. She chortled, squeezing Van’s shoulder to apologize, sort of. Cause she was right, it was a little disrespectful to the mice. And, whoops… then Regan had to go and fumble with her words. (She was so cute. Helpless, but cute) Jade was not letting her off the hook for that. She deserved to be messed with too, as a treat. Wiggling her eyebrows at Regan, she turned to Van with an all too proud smirk on her face. “Oooh, she’s such a pro at knowing Jade’s mouth, right? And mouse! Obviously” And like, she did feel a little bit sorry for Van, cause it wasn’t her fault at all to be caught in the middle of gay shenanigans, but Jade wasn’t revealing any new info to her (unlike Regan). Van knew old people kissed.  

Jade looked down, pretending to be super intrigued by the box of mice when Regan mentioned that woman: The evil granny. Regan was way too kind to her by bringing all these gifts to her. And for what? The person who was supposed to love and care for her would still see her as nothing but an instrument. (It made her blood boil a little bit). But whatever, Regan didn’t like arguing about her or the ways she’d been brainwashed. Her eyebrows shot up in alarm when Van brought snakes into the conversation. She opened her mouth, but for once she was too slow to protest the idea, and yup… Regan now wanted snakes too. Of course she did.

“No, no… no snakes. Babe, we still have to go get that lemming, okay? We don’t have time for snakes!” And, was her reminder totally selfish cause she had been impatiently waiting for that road trip and this could potentially ruin it? Maybe so. They couldn’t prove anything. “Priorities!” she snapped her fingers, trying to wake Regan up from her dead animal trance. 

The box trick totally worked. Regan’s eyes were on her, both curious and interested. (And like, in fairness, she was pretty sure anyone could’ve lifted that box, but at least she made it look cool and effortless, so). “Oh, that? Pft. I barely felt it. I do way more at the gym,” Jade shrugged nonchalantly, glancing at Regan with a knowing look and tilting her head toward Van. She hoped some of that mind-reading was still happening, cause Van didn’t know about her… condition. And it was better to pretend it came from hours and hours at the gym than the hunter juice running through her veins. That was like, something she should probably share with her girly soon, right? Jade wanted Van to know, but she was such a nervous person. What if it freaked her out? 

But anyway, it seemed like any potential awkwardness had been averted, and oh. Jade noticed the eyebrow. That eyebrow was dangerous. The box trick worked a little too well. No (yes), no (yes), no (yes). Nope (Yup) What was Regan doing? In front of Van? That was so not fair. Hello? Like, she knew how fast things kindled between the two. It was so on. Her eyes dipped shamelessly to Regan’s mouth, innuendos about sweating on the tip of her tongue that would totally come out in her sultry register. Her lungs were doing that thing, where they burned like the only way she would ever breathe properly again was if she got closer to Regan. Like she had that premium air or something. She probably did… doctors were rich.

So, of course, Jade stepped closer. Breathing was important after all, Regan understood that too, by the way her body angled towards her. (Ready to share!) Van probably appreciated the fact that she bumped into one of the empty boxes cause… Wait— VAN! Van. Jade snapped out of it, and the oxygen around her was suddenly decent again. “Um,” geez. “Right! No sweating. We don’t want um, yup… whatever you said. Sweating is bad.” She nodded firmly, but she was unable to break eye contact. (Help). “Van? Van! Can you pass me the tape, Van? The tape?” She extended her arm waiting for it. Was the tape needed at the moment? Not really, but did she need a distraction from Regan’s mouth and fancy air? Absolutely. She shuddered, taking her eyes away from the woman, and watched poor Van instead. Aiding her with the tape. (She was the bestest, wasn’t she?) (She deserved like, five grilled cheese sandwiches). 

The tape in her hand was like, the best reminder of why she offered to help. The freezer. A mice of mice waiting to be packed. Ireland. Right. Yup. Mhm. Giving Regan a hand. And luckily for everybody involved, Jade did manage to focus her attention on the task at hand. Tucking every little mouse as softly as possible, cause they were all equally as important to Regan. It turned out, that with six hands, filling up the boxes was way more efficient, actually? Almost like this is what they should’ve been doing since the beginning. “We’re so good at this. We should be professional mice packers.” And sure, Regan remained so distracting, but stealing glances was a nice consolation. (Better than never seeing her again, which was what the future was shaping up to be). ”So like, what happens to the apartment, once you leave? What happens to Van?” 

—

“You couldn’t get it here— or I mean, you could, but like, it sold out super quickly and it was really expensive on a bunch of resale sites, so I found it available abroad.” Van didn’t feel like the details were necessary— thought that maybe it would’ve been obvious, but she felt the need to explain herself anyway. It didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Dr. Kavanagh was leaving and she was taking the freezer mice with her, and Jade looked upset that the address wasn’t being provided. Van thought to figure it out somehow else. Maybe she’d call the office Regan worked at and pretend to be her grandma. She’d need to look up YouTube tutorials on how to mimic an Irish accent, but she was good at that! She played D&D! She’d get the address for forwarding, and then she and Jade could send her things. It’d all work out. “The cars, yeah— I definitely get that. My car’s tires uh—“ She paused, remembering exactly what happened, “de..pressurized, ‘cause of um, the you know, cold.” Van looked down at the dead mouse in her hand, grimacing before putting it next to its siblings. 

“You’re saying that like it’s a— are you trying to compliment me?” To a degree, Van was a little flattered, but it fell short as soon as Regan started to talk about the snakes. So there were snakes? How did she also get snakes? Had that been Emilio’s doing, too? How was he capable of getting his hands on so many dead things? Did P.I’s do that, too? She had no clue. Too focused on the way she tried to wrap her mind around why Regan needed the mice at all, she missed the way Regan had fumbled her explanation. Her mind was still lingering on Emilio and his ability to provide animals at ease to those who needed them. How many pets had he stolen? 

But Jade was saying something, and Van was forcing herself to remember. “I… guess?” It hadn’t really processed for her what Jade was saying, because she was moving to the second mouse, gingerly laying it down. They looked so… pathetic. Was this really what she looked like to Regan? Now, she wasn’t sure if she should be flattered. The phantom weight of each mouse, even after putting them down was present like oil slick across the palms of her gloved hands. It felt wrong, or maybe too clinical to be doing this, but Regan was asking for help, and Van wanted to give it to her, especially after the doctor had let her stay in the apartment, before and after she had planned to leave to Ireland. 

She had missed it again— whatever was happening between Regan and Jade, too focused on the way that the dead mice mimicked Debbie, Diana, and probably the creepy guy at the ice cream store. She stared at it a moment longer before she was looking over her shoulder at Jade. “Everybody sweats,” Van muttered under her breath before she grabbed the tape for Jade. Raising a suspicious brow, she handed it over. “I heard you the first time, dude.” Was it right to hand it over with the dead mouse residue? She should have probably taken the gloves off. Whatever. 

Time moved both too fast and too slow, while simultaneously making Van feel as though she were going at a overly warped speed. The boxes were piling and Van was sorting more and more dead mice, none of which fitting Regan’s hope for the very one that’d represent Jade. Conversation lulled and then picked up again, and only when she heard her name did she look up. Before she could stop herself, she was piping up. “I mean— I have.. a house, technically, it was just like, covered in the goo, and then it’s like, I’m twenty, why do I have a whole house to myself? It was my parents house, but they’re you know—“ she made a quick slash across the throat and a noise at the back of it before tilting her head to the side, tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, “and so it’s like, kind of weird to hang out there or live there, I guess.” She paused, slightly breathless at her explanation. It occurred to her then that she was divulging way too much information than necessary. “I have a house. I can live in it,” Van squeaked out, probably higher pitched than the now dead mice would be able to do. “I can take Thea, too. She doesn’t… well, she has…” She bit the inside of her cheek, brows pulling together. “The goo messed up a lot of stuff, but it’s all fine now, right?” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the leg of a nearby chair was beginning to warp, liquid oozing from the bottom of it. The more she focused on it, the higher the ooze went, before the chair was falling onto its side. “I DIDN’T DO THAT!” 

— 

How many species of snake did Maine have? Regan should have known, but some of them could be so elusive, and now time was of the essence and she had barely any snakes to show for it! And she was pretty sure her meager garter snakes were all juveniles. She couldn’t return to Saol Eile without at least a few adults, and none of hers had any soft tissue left, she needed soft tissue. And that was just one species. What about – her favorite fingers snapped in front of her face and her eyes focused past them, on Jade’s. Oh. Regan launched immediately into a rebuttal, even though she hadn’t actually heard anything Jade might or might not have said. “But there are none over there. If I don’t supply myself with snakes, who knows when I’ll next be able to acquire them? It could be decades. Centuries. I have some garter snakes. And I could find some others. Oh, when we get the lemming! The bog may have water snakes. We can look while we’re there.” 

Regan’s thoughts became a little more anchored in present circumstances, or at least the way Jade’s brows arched up at her as her voice – and her eyes – dropped lower. What could be more present than that? What else – right, the mice. Van! The boxes, and the strange look Jade was giving her now, like she was supposed to know something… Regan tilted her head in response, confused. “Right, the, um, the gym. The one with the equipment. Like the treadmills, ellipticals… the sweat.” Jade had never mentioned the gym before. It was a lie, but why? Was it just because her slaying was all of the working out she needed, or was this confirmation that Regan’s theory was actually right? Did this mean that Van didn’t even know about that? Why were these two even keeping secrets from each other? But it… it was fine. It didn’t seem like Van noticed, actually. Van loved packing mice so much. Truly, a lot. Maybe she should tell Van where the mice came from so she could get some of her own and pack them up herself later. 

They were both doing great, but Jade was looking at Regan more than anything else, and Van might have been communing with the mice. Wait, was she? Regan had intended to study the child but kept getting her gaze intercepted, and, well… Van was preoccupied, so... Heat balled up in Regan’s chest and Jade was getting closer, right where she belonged, and no, absolutely not, even preoccupied, Van was right here. So Regan swallowed down that heat, like any self-respecting banshee who could do the same with even a scream, and – well, okay, she might not have been able to, had Jade not demanded the tape. She cleared her throat and half-expected to hear something shatter. “Yes. Uh. You’re both good at this. I have only known a few who were better.” Van didn’t even seem to like being disturbed to hand Jade the tape, such was her commitment. A role model. “You are thriving,” Regan told Van, a little proudly.

Jade’s question didn’t especially surprise her, but it also wasn’t something she had talked over with Van yet. “I assumed Van might stay here,” Regan said with a shrug, then looked toward Van, who still seemed completely engrossed in the mice (and who could blame her?), “it does not matter to me. I will not be here. And I didn’t… exactly pay for the apartment. So it’s yours for as long as you want it. Or you can move back to your post-goo house. It is none of my concern.” Reilly had been so insistent that she find a relatively normal place to live that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, and at the time, to get him off her back, Regan hadn’t thought twice about bending a lease to her own binding terms, indefinitely. The landlord probably had other properties, right? She remembered thinking that Cliodhna would have been proud of her finesse, and then the shockwave that hit her after – that Cliodhna was nowhere near here, and that there would be no making her proud after the ultimate disappointment her leaving no doubt stirred. And here she was, still eager to please. Regan frowned down at the mouse, her hand moving automatically to slot it gently into its place besides the others.

“—What?”

Van’s outburst spared Regan from any further contemplation. Her gaze jolted to Van and then to where she was staring – right at one of the chairs that was… moving by itself? One of the legs seemed shorter. No. It was shrinking. The chair was quickly turning into something straight out of a Salvador Dali painting, and even with Van’s over the top denial, it took a second for Regan to thread together what Van had told her about melting things and what was happening now right in front of her eyes. 

And Van was denying it. Because… because Jade didn’t know. That was confirmed. Regan knew that. But if Jade realized that Regan knew something about Van that she didn’t, Jade might be hurt, wouldn’t she? Yes, she would. Without a doubt. “Bás glac chugam,” Regan muttered. She was not built for these situations. At least she didn’t need to fake being flustered. She pushed herself between the boxes of mice and the melting chair, as if they needed protection. And, fine, she was concerned about Jade, too, and it had the added bonus of obscuring her view (for about 2 seconds, maybe). “Um,” Regan looked between the two of them, “this stuff from IKEA, it never lasts; you know how it is. The furniture back in Ireland was far more durable. It probably could have weathered earthquakes. Is that what this is? An earthquake?” The chair had been reduced to only the seat, floating on a sea of melted wood and plastic stretching its way across the floor. The credibility of her explanation had surely been reduced along with it. She looked pointedly at Van now, concern for her mice growing. “How long do earthquakes last?”

— 

Jade had no clue her question would be touchy enough for Van to get nervous. (In hindsight…) And like, okay, fine, she could totally admit sometimes, her brand of nosy was too nosy. But this was an important thing to talk about, right? Communication was so important. What if Regan left and Van had nowhere to go? Jade couldn’t squeeze her into her own apartment. Lullaby was already taking up space under the bed! And apparently, it wasn’t something she should’ve worried about anyway. Cause a) Van already had another house and b) Regan had… a freebie apartment? Why couldn’t that be her?

Actually, why couldn’t that be her? If Van was thinking of going back to her place, (and even if she didn’t), maybe Jade could live here too, right? She already drove here most nights to bring Van home. And like, this place totally needed an eye for decor, which she could supply. And Thea? She loved a fellow CRJ fan, they would get along so well! Jade lit up, excited to share her genius idea with her friends, but something was going down while she had been daydreaming.

That something was a little hard to see with Regan coming up to stand in the way (though the view wasn’t half bad), but Jade still got a peek. A chair, maybe the very one she sat on while she waited for Regan’s lapdance (In hindsight…nope) reduced to nothing but gooey-looking wood and plastic. Jade would’ve been alarmed, but she knew Regan had a tendency to destroy inanimate objects. And also, cause she loved watching those TikToks of things getting melted or compressed. If only she had managed to film it before…

Huh?

It was Van’s reaction that threw her for a loop. Her words sounded so obviously like a lie, exactly how she sounded when she said she was fine. But, why would she lie? It wasn’t her fault, it was Regan’s. She did this kinda thing all the time. Her own apartment suffered the last time she was there. (No regrets) (None). So… why wasn’t the math mathing? And why did it feel like she was the only one confused by all of it? Her eyes flicked to Regan (who did not look “I just exploded something” spooked), then back to Van. Could she… Was Van a banshee too? Was everybody in her life a banshee? Okay, hold on. it wasn’t the time to lose it. That was a stupid idea. She already knew Van didn’t like the bones or the mice (though apparently that had changed while packing) so nope, it was impossible she was a banshee. That still left a whole chair melted on the floor though. And actually, yup… Regan’s IKEA rant was a bunch of nonsense, but not the kinda rambling she did when she was embarrassed about something. 

An earthquake? She thought it was an earthquake? “It depends…” Jade began, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Sometimes it’s just noise and it lasts like, a second. Sometimes it’s wavy and slow, I like those better, personally. And then yup, the really shaky ones. I’d say like, 5 to 10 seconds is pretty average… but that wasn’t an earthquake, and why are we even talking about it?” She stepped from behind Regan, suddenly understanding the reason for her previous movement. The mice. She had been standing in front of the mice, protecting them. Oh (duh). Jade pointed at the puddle. “Earthquakes don’t do that. I mean, they do sorta… but it’s not the chair, it’s like… the ground” She looked at Regan and shrugged. “Liquefaction”.  

She glanced at Van then, with a curious glint in her eyes. What was she, exactly? “Soooooo… Whoever denied it supplied it, I think.” And like, Jade wanted all the deets, obviously, but the puddle was moving a little too close to the boxes and she didn’t want to think what would happen if the mice suffered. “Um. Can either of you stop this?”

—

Van hadn’t exactly expected Regan to jump into action, glances being tossed between either herself or Jade. The anxiety that boiled in the pit of her stomach was obvious in the form of her expression, mouth twisting, eyes widening slightly. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest— it was impossible to pretend like things were okay when her anxiety got the better of her like this. She looked around, desperate for something that could ground her. 

Regan was talking about earthquakes, and even Van knew that an earthquake couldn’t do something like this. Van had made up a lot of excuses over the years— the sun, the cold, the wind, but never an earthquake, and in Maine? Was that possible? Maybe it was, since Van had felt the ground tremble more than a few times, especially recently. Maybe it wasn’t a dumb excuse, maybe Regan was onto something. She had to believe that she was, because her expression told her company that any word coming out of her mouth wasn’t exactly true. 

Okay, so maybe the excuse hadn’t worked the way that Van hoped it would. Yeah, she knew it wouldn’t have— it was dumb, but Regan was trying to protect her, right? So Van went with it, “um, no— I think that Regan is right, it… was definitely…” Van closed her mouth, pulling the gloves off— god, her palms were so sweaty. Where was Thea? Couldn’t Thea come in and deter the conversation? Fix it, maybe? Then again, she might be nervous, too. Especially with all the mice. 

“Me?” She pointed to herself, eyes growing wide. Van shot a worried glance to Regan, willing her to make up some other excuse. “No, I said it wasn’t me, weren’t you listening? Jade, do you need to get— um, your ears checked… or something?” The laughter that poured from her now was directed on the basis of nerves. Her chest heaved and she pointed down to the ground. “I said that wasn’t me— um, it might have just been the chair design, like some sort of uh, self-destruct button.” Yeah, that was definitely it. She thought about Regan telling her that Jade was aware of things, but the idea that Jade would hate her if she found out— that she might find out about everything else, too. About the portals, about Debbie— 

Another chair sunk to the ground, this time melting entirely. “Um— that…” DAMMIT. 

“Sorry, I didn’t— I can’t stop it.” Her mouth was so dry. “Can— I need water, I think that I should drink water.” She rushed past the boxes in an attempt to get closer to the kitchen sink, but instead ran directly over the chairs she’d melted. Her knees buckled beneath her and she was sliding forward, butt hitting the ground hard. Van yelped as she fell, grabbing the edge of the table, and in the process knocking over the empty boxes and packing supplies with it. In response, her magic crackled, a light above her head, causing glass to shower down onto her, and whoever stood within proximity. She hoped it avoided the mice— oh god, the mice. 

—

Jade was from California. Of course she had experienced numerous earthquakes! Regan glanced nervously at Jade as she seemed to think through the feasibility that this was one and immediately discard the thought. She saw right through it. She always saw right through things. But… she also didn’t seem especially perturbed, almost like she was more curious (and oh, did Regan adore how curiosity looked on her). “You, um, know a lot about earthquakes, don’t you? They sound kind of nice, actually. Like nature’s screams.” Foiled. And Van was still staring at Regan like she expected something from her, even after the wildly inventive chair self-destruct mechanism idea. Regan mouthed what? toward her; she offered all that she had.

There was the most important question, naturally voiced by Jade – could this be stopped? Regan stared right back at Van, who shrank into herself as her denial piled higher. This child’s anxiety was going to destroy everything in the apartment. Regan lifted a foot to keep the melted chair from collecting around her shoe, and when she looked up, a second chair was turning into a thick, candle wax fluid before her eyes. “That’s enough,” she hissed, eyes darting between the packed boxes of mice and the encroaching puddle, “stop melting things! Go – do it outside instead. Go melt a tree, and I will watch. That would be neat. This is dangerous.” Regan carefully nudged the boxes back, but the post-chair was rapidly expanding across the floor and was about to double in size now. “What… what do you mean you can’t stop it? When does it stop? How long does it take? Stop this now. Control it.” She looked dumbfounded at Van. This room was full of precious mice and Jade (perhaps not in that order… she wasn’t sure… actually, she was sure it wasn’t in that order; fearg an chinniúint, when had Jade become more precious than her dead?), and Van neglected to mention if she had ever melted people before.

Regan didn’t have to be a banshee to sense the incoming disaster. She could tell what was about to happen as soon as Van’s sneakers squeaked against the slick chair ooze. Van hit the floor with a loud smack and Regan had half bolted over to check on her when the light overhead just exploded. For once, it wasn’t her breaking something. It wasn’t her, right? But as used to this as Jade seemed to be by now, she had never been right underneath it when it happened before. And then there were the mice – were there any in those boxes that had gone flying? Jade was quick, covering her face with her arms faster than she’d catapulted herself over that headstone to charge the spawn; the mice had no such defenses. Was anyone hurt? In the mess and the chaos, it was hard to tell. But Jade was moving like her arms had been caught in the blast. Jade. Jade was hurt.

She should have run to check on both of them, part of her knew it. But you always ended an ongoing crisis before providing care, and right now, Van was both in need of the care and the crisis herself. Unfortunately, Regan was terrible at ending crises and much better at inadvertently making them worse. 

“What did you do?” Regan’s eyes filled in with black as her gaze bore down on Van. “Did you hurt them?” She stepped in front of Van again, trying to section her away from the others (the living and the dead and the living). Her lungs rippled with a half-formed screech that itched to climb up her throat, but she kept it in, locking her mouth shut until the worst of her flaring temper and worry passed. The deep breath she took in was what she needed: a pause. The use of her brain to answer her own question. Regan could see a beautiful dark miasma hovering over the packed boxes of mice, and none clinging to the ones that had been caught in the spray of glass – empty? And there was Jade, still in potential danger, blood now beading across her skin in a couple of places, but no serious injury. Which left Van. Who, the longer Regan looked, seemed the worst off of anyone here. Regan’s eyes darted away, blue again, and her stomach grew leaden with guilt; she was pretty sure Van was about to outrun or outpanic any apology that could be made. 

—

Control it. 

Regan’s voice rang out with a level of authority, and suddenly, Van felt as though she were being transported back to grade school where her teachers would stand above her, shouting at her to stop— to stop crying, to stop talking, to stop doing whatever she was doing that was inconveniencing them, inconveniencing the class. 

It was difficult, being on the other side of this after so long. She hadn’t been yelled at like this since her grandmother left, and Regan knew that. Or maybe she didn’t know exactly what had transpired, but Van felt as though it were pretty easy to assume! She stayed put, the liquid goo of the melted chair now sticking to the palms of her hands— glass in her hair, cutting across her cheek. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

A slew of apologies built up in the back of Van’s throat, and she opened her mouth to speak, to explain what happened, why it happened— but she didn’t really know. Magic was there, and it was apparent, and Regan already knew that, so why was she looking at her like that? 

Van hadn’t anticipated Regan’s eyes to grow black, and suddenly Van was filled with immense guilt, like she was creating something within the doctor to do this. Her throat was dry and her mouth tasted like acid. Her hands shook as she scrambled to her feet, hands gliding across the glass that’d scattered around her, blood now dotting the floor. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” She choked on the apology as she rose to her feet, using the table for support as she stepped over the packing supplies. Her head swarmed and her stomach rolled as she pushed past both Jade and Regan. She needed to get out before something bad happened, before whatever she had created in Regan completely took her over. She was completely unaware of the fact that Regan’s eyes had gone back to their natural piercing blue— it was too late for that kind of awareness, she needed to leave. To disappear into the nothingness, to pour apologies over text when she could stop shaking. 

As she dashed towards the front door, Van didn’t bother pulling on shoes or her coat, she simply ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She needed to leave before something terrible happened again— before Regan and Jade both paid the price for something she was unequipped to deal with. 

—

Van and Regan’s charade ended before it could take off, as Van was unable to get it together enough not to melt the second chair. Oh well, at least that was one difficult convo out of the way. (And seriously? She had eyes. She was totally offended they were trying to fool her). But actually, the second chair expanding the puddle was so bad for them, that she didn’t get the time to act all high and mighty over being right. Van was spiraling, and in turn, Regan wasn’t chillaxing either. And Jade? Too desensitized to chaos and madness to truly panic yet, was still wondering what this meant for Van. Definitely less banshee, but potentially… Fae family? Wood fae. Was that why Regan and Van were bonded? 

Right. Irrelevant at the moment.

“Van it’s okay, babe. You’re doing so well. Just um… count to ten or— picture all of us naked. That helps with nerves right?” She turned to Regan, face scrunched up in some variation of disbelief. She knew about Van. Why didn’t she tell her? This felt like a pretty important detail to know about each other! Like allergies or… Water! Van requested water. Jade nodded, cause she could totally do water. Water was always the solution (except against electricity and grass. Thank you Pokémon). She got this, carefully steering clear of the puddle of melted chairs to get to the kitchen. “Should we put her feet up high?” She suggested in the meantime, gaze darting to the far wall. In the absence of chairs… the wall would have to do, right? 

Jade wasn’t counting on Van to try and reach the water herself, amidst her breakdown. Oh boy. Girly kept making terrible choices. And Regan! She kept drilling the poor girl like simply asking her to control something would make it happen. (Classic banshee mentality, obviously) (Pft). Jade wanted to tell her to cool it down a bit, and maybe work on moving the boxes of mice to a safer part of the room. She would deal with Van. But no words came out, as she was rudely interrupted by the thud Van made by hitting the ground. (Ouch). And then, to make matters worse? The blast of the light overhead.  

Always cover the goods. 

Jade had cat-like reflexes, so her face was protected while the shards of glass were still suspended in the air, but not even her supernatural reflexes could stop the shower that followed. She winced, feeling the nasty sting of a piece of glass jabbing into her forearm, several other tiny bits scattering in her hair and shoulders. She barely flinched as she pulled the bigger piece out of her arm, confident that her healing would leave her flawless again in no time. This was like, a scratch in comparison to a monster’s claws or a blade. And while she’d been tending to her minor wounds, Van fared similar luck. Except she didn’t have the capacity to heal as quickly. She had glass all over her hair and her cheek was bleeding and… Jade’s belly twisted in sympathy, cause she knew how crappy it felt to fail at something. It was okay (not literally) (but it would be), they could clean Van’s cheek and sweep the glass away and they could go back to something more normal. Like finding each other’s mouse doppelgangers. Easy peasy! This was nothing. 

It was the way Regan hovered above Van, taller and more menacing than Jade had ever seen her, demanding explanations in a voice that was only a few decibels short of a scream, that had Jade's chest heaving. It wasn’t a full-on scream, but might as well be more harrowing than that. Regan’s words dripped with something icy that shrunk Jade’s lungs and tightened her throat. Her heart raced like it hadn’t in twenty years. 

They used to scream like that too. Back when hatred was preferred over indifference, and abysmally concealed as teaching a lesson. When they wouldn’t let her forget that the only mistake bigger than displaying a sloppy skill was being born in the first place. (Was the current alternative any better?) But Jade put a strong shoulder against the door that threatened to open. Before all the memories she’d trapped inside, thrown away haphazardly by a kid whose only desire was to survive could crack the hinges open and trample her. Before Regan’s voice was replaced by his. Nope! She shut it all down, slammed that door closed, and attached a metaphorical broom to the knob to stop any loose crap from potentially spilling once she stopped actively pushing against it. 

She had things to focus on and they were right in front of her. She had to remain alert and collected.

“DON’T talk to her like that!” Jade spat, cool and even and far too serious to feel like it was coming out of her mouth. She tried reaching for Regan’s shoulder, knowing her touch had somewhat of a calming effect on the other woman, but she froze when she noticed the inky darkness in Regan’s eyes. And yup… Permission to freak out? That one was totally not in the script. She had a tolerance for all things supernatural that many would envy, but her girl going full-on demon was not even remotely in her bingo. 

What on earth was going on with Regan? Was she actually possessed? Salt! Would salt do? (She had zero exorcist tricks). She did not want to think what a possessed woman who had seen her beloved dead mice threatened could do to poor, sweet Van, who shrank from the wrath in a way that had Jade putting her shoulder against that mental door again. Not now. (Not ever).

But something, (a breath, her conscience) whatever it was, managed to pull Regan back into herself again. Jade watched her chest rise slowly and deeply, taking in a calming breath. Her own shoulders dropped inadvertently as Regan became her Regan again. Okay. Wow. This was super messy, but they could talk about it, right? 

Nope. It was too late, though, to salvage the situation. Jade didn’t get to take a step forward to check on Van’s wounds and whisk her away from Regan’s rage, should it come back again, cause the girl started spilling apologies and scrambled to her feet like she intended to run away. “Babe, wait. Van!” Which she did, evading Jade’s grasp as she ran out of the apartment. 

And… Silence.

Jade kept her gaze fixed on the door for a second before she turned toward Regan. Oh, she was giving wet cat vibes. Jade’s heart ached for her too, cause she was totally positive Regan would be super hard on herself for reacting the way she did. She really went over the top, didn’t she? There was no point in downplaying it. And Jade battled with her desire to comfort the woman she loved (even though she had been very very wrong), or go after her upset little sister. Except it was no battle at all. Her heart was always straight as an arrow in its demands. And this time, she had to go. 

She stepped closer, avoiding the glass and the puddle as best as she could, tapping Regan’s forearm gently to get her attention. Then slid her hand down, squeezing. It only took one look for Jade to know Regan understood. “I’ll go check on her… she had…” her hand gestured around her face, and the movement stung somewhere in her arm. Oh, right. But she’d get to that later. She was Gucci. Van, on the other hand…“Her cheek, her hands. She must be scared… and hurt.” She raised a pointed eyebrow. Jade was not letting Regan off the hook, but it didn’t change how she felt about her. Or how much she wanted to comfort her. “I’ll call you if I find her, or if I don’t. I’ll call you either way, okay?” She couldn’t have run too far away, right? Her legs were so short, that maybe Jade could follow on her bike. “I’ll be back soon. And we’ll finish packing” she promised, giving Regan’s hand one last squeeze before she spun and grabbed her shoes, rushing through the door to hopefully bring Van back home.

—

Regan’s eyes were locked on the door even after Van had long since darted out of it. It felt like Van took all of the air from the room with her and, for a second, before her awareness of Jade trickled into her consciousness, the world was silent and still, except for shame bubbling up like bile in her throat. What did you do? She asked it again, this time only inwardly. How could she demand Van tighten her control over something Van didn’t even understand? Regan could hardly do that herself now, at times, and certainly not in those early days, where she had been confused and desperate, anchored only by her grandmother’s eyes on her, which were always so dark and so cold they burned hot. 

She hadn’t been the one to draw blood but she may as well have been. The way glass sliced into Van’s palms as she scrambled to get up was seared in Regan’s mind, the flash of red, small and brief before Van turned into a blur herself and ran. She pulled her eyes away from the door only to stare down at the thick mat of scars on her hands, the price for her own control, and she flexed her palms, curling her fingers over them. Matted and harsh, such an ugly honor. She had let Van run out of here with her own to match. But Van was not a banshee. And Regan should not have spoken to her like one.

This was not the kind of pain Regan was used to learning from. “I…” She started, but the syllable only hung there in a room that might as well have been empty. Jade was not the one who she most wished to address right now. They both knew that. She’d really bonejaxed things.

But Jade was still there, and not to be forgotten. And when Regan met her eyes, there was something stiff in them. Protective. Like Jade had curled in around herself. Or perhaps it was all concern over Van, but she didn’t think so; something about what had happened dredged up what Regan had only seen glimpses of in the past. Van was the priority, though, and she also knew immediately what Jade was telling her, what she needed to do. And what she herself could not do. Van and Jade had come here to help her, and this was what Regan had gifted them in return. 

The gentle brush against her arm brought her gaze up again, as at some point it had sunk back down. She didn’t feel especially worthy of Jade’s touch right now, but she accepted the hands she was offered, even if one small nudge of Jade’s brow made Regan want to hide inside of her turtleneck – or perhaps be more like an actual turtle and pull her entire head through her ribcage, a less agonizing maneuver than the alternative of facing things head on.

“Thanks.” She gave Jade’s hand a light squeeze back and then dropped it with a thick swallow that clogged her throat. “I will clean up here,” she said slowly, rejecting Jade’s offer to help, “It’s better for all of this to be gone when she comes back. And I don’t… know that I should be looking for her yet.” Van was probably at her house, or at Sly Slice right now. The last thing anyone needed was for her to run further away, potentially into danger. But what if she was already– no, Regan wouldn’t think about that. “If you don’t find her within an hour, tell me,” she hesitated, then remembered what got them into this mess to begin with, then added, “please.” A word had hardly been in her vocabulary for eight years. “I really… I doubt she will accept my help, but if she does, she has it.” That was the best she could do for now, other than not keeping Jade any longer. She was out the door without another word, as fast as Van had been only a minute before.

Had it not been for the erupting frustration that had tainted what she’d spewed toward Van (an especially discouraged emotion), Regan thought her grandmother might have been proud to hear her demand others grasp hard for the control demanded of her. That thought should have filled her with vindication – both her dreams and her nightmares were of worthiness in the eyes of the only one whose approval she had craved above all else for years. But instead, it left her hollow, not even carrying the approval of the dead mice they had packed – not the frightened Van mouse, not the Jade mouse that was surely in here somewhere, and least of all, the Regan mouse. 

[breitzbachbea]

Drabble #84

Opposites attract and nothing show that more than clashing magnets finding each other as soon as they return. Or - Magnús walking into hell while Freyja, walking first, gently holds his hand. (These two belong to my beloved @swabianmapley )

Drabble Collection on Ao3 Ship: SigFrey

“Oho, pretty lady, where are you going at this hour?” Magnús asked, his hand still on the key.

Freyja rolled her eyes, but the sated smile on her face never waned.

“Into bed, big boy,” she said, clung to his arm and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Magnús chuckled and took the hand from the key to put his arm around her instead.

With the other, he turned the key and pushed the door open. Freyja’s hand found his arm again.

The two stumbled into their hotel room. The door was closed with more force than expected and louder than perhaps welcome at the time.

“Seems like you had a fun night out,” Magnús said. He was glad to be back with her after their group of Irishmen and Scots had split.

“The funnest. What about you?”

“It was alright.”

Freyja swung around to stand in front of him and let go of his arm. Despite her slight stagger, she was steady on her feet. “Would have rather that we stayed back in Reykjavík?”

Her gall, her good-natured taunt, amplified by the alcohol in her veins. He smiled, much softer than her grin.

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he answered. He turned as he got out of his jacket. “I got invited to a whiskey tasting.” He opened the closet.

“Oh, did you now?” Freyja asked and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw her curious and elated smile, her eyebrows arched.

“Mhm.” He hung up the jacket. “Well, they’ve planned a whiskey tasting in front of m.” When he turned around to Freyja and closed the door behind him, her excitement was less radiant and she had crossed her arms in front of her. “They talked about it like a big event, with everyone involved. Told me to tell Emil about it.”

“Oh, great! So, we’ve been invited to a whiskey tasting.” She let herself fall onto the bed and untied her boots.

“If anything even comes of it and it wasn’t just a wet idea…” Magnús sat down on the arm chair to remove his shoes.

“I think it sounds fun! I’m sure Emil will love it!” Magnús cocked an eyebrow and waited, until Freyja looked at him. “Come on, Siggi, it’s basically like the get-together after the sheep and horses returned from the mountains. He’s comfortable at those.”

“Those don’t have insane people. I’m pretty sure this is going to end in chaos, something he is decidedly less comfortable around.”

Freyja threw her boots to the side and waved her hand. “He’s been doing fine on his family weekend with Chun and Fen in the Icelandic wilderness so far, he can handle a little drama.” She shrugged. “Also, remember that time the Danish were over for the sheep and horse handling?”

Freyja caught a glimpse of Magnús’ face and burst into laughter. He hadn’t unhunched his shoulders yet, although the pure rage and repulsion had been replaced by a thoroughly miffed stare into space. “Regrettably so.” Every time Jóhann asked about Frej and if he wouldn’t want to come again next year, admiration and a little bit of excitement in his voice, it was hard to grin and bear it.

Freyja had fallen onto her back and held her stomach. Once she stopped laughing, she went limp and sighed. She fumbled with her belt, opened it and unzipped her pants.

However, she struggled to strip out of them.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, if you could pull from the bottom, that’d be great.” She pulled her pants off with little struggle. “Thanks, sweetheart – Oh my god, you’re such a square.” She laughed again as he folded her pants to put them away.

“Your square,” he replied and put her pants on a chair. “Looking out for you.”

She crossed her arms behind her head and he avoided to look at her naked legs. “I know. You don’t have to be at attention every possible moment though. Like, I know. Yes. That comes free with this life, but .. the whiskey tasting sounds nice.”

“With normal people it would, I’m sure.” She shrugged. She still had to take her piercings out. “Like, danger aside, people like those aren’t exactly the company I’d choose for a fun evening.”

“Normal-Schmormal. You chose me, didn’t you?” She smiled at him. It wasn’t beaming, it wasn’t smirking, but it radiated kindness that seeped right through his skin into his heart. “You love my weirdness. You followed it all the way into hell.” Gratitude. Apologies written in her eyes.

“I … yes … I mean …” He was at a loss for words. Instead, he got onto the bed, laid beside her and took her hand. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, their fingers intertwined.

[deexchanel]

Vacation

Word Count:

Pairing: Avengers x BlackFem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, A tipsy reader, Fluff maybe?

Summary: the avengers finally have a break off from avenging the world. The first place they go for vacation? Maui Hawaii.

A/N: You guys liking my content means a lot💜💜. when writing one-shots why don't people put oufits? i wanna see wtf i be wearing since im y/n!😂 I got some long faux locs in my hairrr sooo ykk i had to put it in here🙂

Y/N stood in the kitchen pouring coconut rum into a drink that she found a recipe for on google. It was called a mermaid cocktail and it looked like something she could get away with, without any of her family members saying something. "I'm so ready to drink this, it looks so good." She mumbled stirring the rum mixture.

She is 23 years old but the team still treats her like a little kid. As of right now, everyone was taking a nap from their huge lunch. All those missions they work was eventually stressing them out so Y/N took it upon herself to plan a vacation for them. She rented out a huge beach house for them. Best idea everr!!

Seeing the smiles on their face made her feel so content with her main priorities being happy. "What are you making?" Loki's voice said from behind her. Y/N gave him a big toothy grin. "Oh, nothingggg!"

"You're up to no good, I know you are." Loki raised an eyebrow at her turquoise-looking drink. "I'm not going to even ask." He sat down at the island, shaking his head. Y/N could feel something was off with him. She put the pitcher in the refrigerator, then sat beside him in the chair.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking Y/N."

"About? We're on vacation Loki, we can think when we're back at the tower doing boring missions." Y/N stared at his jet black hair, having the urge to run her fingers through it.

"No, you can't touch my hair." Loki knew exactly what she was thinking. Y/N pout her bottom lip, squinting her eyes. "That's not what I was going to do. Anyway, what are you thinking about?"

"I feel out of place. I just know they are still mad with me from the events of New York." Loki buries his face in his hands. "I want to go back to Asgard, I know they'll rather want me there than here."

Y/N removed his hands."What makes you think that Loki? If none of wanted you here then I wouldn't have told you about this trip. " She giggled making him let a small smile creep on his face. "You're right where you belong and if anyone isn't happy about you being here then just know that Thor and I are ecstatic to have you here. I'm glad you came, means a lot to me."

"Means a lot to know that you want me here Y/N." Loki's small smile went to a big one. Y/N slowly moved her hand to his hair. He watched her slow movement in amusement "No Y/N." She huff playfully giving up.

"Fine, I'll try another time but I'm happy that I made you smile. You're way easier than Bucky's serious ass. Now that's out the way, it's hot girl summer so no sadness from no oneee!!" Y/N exaggerated getting out of the chair going back over to the refrigerator. She pulled out that now cold pitcher, chugging down the concoction.

"Did I hear Y/N say something about a hot girl summer?" Steve rubbed his eyes while he walked downstairs. Y/N rubbed her mouth from the leftover drink on her lips. Steve furrowed his eyebrows at the now half-empty pitcher. "What's that?"

"Nothing! Don't even stick your nose in it." Y/N put the pitcher back. Steve looked at Loki who just shrugged his shoulders with confusion still written on his face. Y/N placed a rushed kiss on their cheek so they wouldn't smell the amount of alcohol she just consumed. "I'm going to get ready so we can go to the beach. Steve wake everyone up for me please so we can leave in the next 30 minutes."

"Okay Y/N," Steve replied ready to question her but she was already up the stairs. 20 minutes later Y/N had music blasting from the speakers while she ready. From that consumption of alcohol, it kicked in about 10 minutes after she got ready. She was only tipsy, maybe. Y/N couldn't focus because she kept giggling at everything.

"Damn why is everything so funny!" Y/N said getting mad at herself. Her long black faux locs flowed down her back after she struggled to place them in a high ponytail. Meaning she broke 3 hair ties and gave the hell up.

"Y/N we're waiting on you!" Tony yelled up the stairs but Y/N waved him off. She grabbed her purse, pausing the music. Tripping over her feet a bit, she made her way downstairs. Bucky caught a glimpse and instantly spoke up.

"Oh hell no Y/N. Go change."

She waved him off too, purposely ignoring him. "I'm readyyyy". Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to agree with Barnes. Y/N that isn't a swimsuit, that's two pieces of cloths."

Thor smiled, "I like it Y/N and since I like it, we can leave." He picked up a beach chair but everyone yelled no in protest except Natasha. Thor rolled his eyes sitting the chair down. Loki moved her hair aside, closing the white and blue shirt that she wore.

"Now you need a hair thingy to keep it close."Y/N smacked his hand away lightly, going over to the kitchen to find some chips. "Y/N why aren't you saying anything?" Bucky followed still upset about her outfit.

"Her outfit is fine guys. Let's go because you guys are over exaggerating." Natasha placed her shades on her face. "I got your back Y/N!"

"It's not fine, she's showing too much," Steve said being overprotective. Still not phased, Y/N nodded her head from the kitchen. " That's why you my bitch, thank you!" Everyone was shocked by her choice of words. Bucky grabbed her waist.

"Y/N are you drunk?"

Y/N giggled,"A lady never drinks, she sipssss." She dragged out the s, kissing his nose. Bucky pressed his lips together, getting his answer.

"Guys she's drunk!"

Groans went around the room. Steve was in realization,"Ohhh so that was what she was drinking when I came downstairs earlier."

------

"And it's hard to keep my cool

When other bitches tryna get with my dude and

When other chickens tryna get in my coop

'Cause you're a one in a million

There ain't no man like you"

Y/N belt out the lyrics to Streets for the 13th time while Bucky held her in his arms while they were in the ocean. They had been at the beach for 30 minutes, and a biker went by playing that song in her speakers. Y/N haven't let go of the song since.

"Y/N if you sing the same lyrics one more time, I swear I'm going to drop you." Bucky scolded while she gripped his shoulder tighter. Y/N placed her head on his chest, the sun was getting rid of her drunkness. She was tired since she didn't take a nap like everyone else plus Bucky's heartbeat and the sound of the oceans was calming her down. "Sorry! It's stuck in my mind."

Steve, Tony, Loki, and Thor played on the beach with water guns. Natasha laid in the sun, getting a tan. Per Y/N's request, Bucky was in the water holding Y/N close. She was surprised that he even agreed to it.

"Bucky?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"I'm tired."

"I figured, let's get you out the water." Bucky turned around to walk back to the shore. Y/N just snuggled more to his chest. "Bucky?"

Bucky’s voice held slight annoyance, thinking she was playing."What is it Y/N?"

"I'm glad you came on this trip, I know this past year had been so hard on you and I thought this trip would help ease your mind. Plus I got to know you better, that’s a bonus.”

“Yeah at first, I didn’t want to come but I couldn’t turn down seeing you in a bikini.” Bucky laughed making Y/N laugh as well hitting his chest lightly. “Bucky!”

“What? I’m being honest. I just rather for only my eyes to see.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“You going to have to get used to it. But for real though, this trip made me not think about things that's been haunting my mind. Coming on here was the best idea.”

“I’m glad I could help with that.” She tapped his shoulder for him to stop. He placed Y/N on her feet. “I’ve come up with the best plan though.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “What’s the plan?”

——

Y/N made herself sink underwater. Bucky waited a couple seconds before putting on his best acting voice. “Guys! Guys! Y/N she’s drowning!” Natasha stood at the shore, looking out at the water in concern. The team wasted no time running in the water.

“What?!?”

“What happened??!?”

“Oh god, Y/N?!”

“Shit!”

Steve was Y/N's victim, he hunched over in her area of the water. Bucky pulled at the ends of his hair keeping the act going. “She was doing alright until I couldn’t hear her anymore.” Y/N lurched up grabbing Steve by the neck, pulling him in the water.

Bucky's face of distress turned into humor. “Steve she got you good!” Both Y/N and Steve appeared out of the water. Y/N was laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach. Loki found it amusing while Tony, Steve, and Thor didn’t.

“That was a good one Y/N.”

“Don’t listen to Loki Y/N. You had us worried!”Thor huffed and Steve nodded his head in agreement.

“Yeah! I thought something really happened to you.”

“I’m sorry guys.” Y/N snorted trying to contain her laughter. “It’s not my fault, it’s Bucky. He came up with the idea. You guys should’ve seen Steve’s face when I came out of the water.”

Steve mocked her laugh, “Ha Ha Ha. It’s not funny.” Bucky held his hand in defense trying not to laugh as well. “It’s not mine! This was all her idea.”

“Capsicle is right, it’s not funny. Don’t scare me like that again.” Tony scolded her, he held out his arms. “Now come give me a hug so I can feel better.” Y/N gave him a hug, that humorous smile not leaving her face. When she tried to pull away, Tony held a grip. She realized.

“TONY!”

He laughed leaning forward and they both fell in the water. Soon it turned into a big splashing war between everyone, they were having so much fun.

————————-

At 7:28 p.m. both Y/N and Bucky walked back to the beach for dinner. The restaurant they chose for tonight’s dinner was there. Since Y/N is over the planning for the vacation and Bucky is attached to her hip, they were at dinner first.

“I know the wait is going to be minute so sit down while I talk to the hostess.” She reassured him. Bucky looked at her kind of worried because he wasn’t comfortable with crowds yet. She squeezed his hand, “You’re okay.”

Bucky nodded his head reluctantly. Y/N walked off to make sure this restaurant gave them a private table away from the crowd, preferably on the beach. After about 10 minutes of talking, something just told her to turn around. It was some woman that looked around Y/N’s age steadily talking to Bucky even though he looked so uncomfortable.

“Hold on one sec.” Y/N held a finger-walking away, not even waiting on the hostess's response. Y/N quiet appearance kinda scared them both. “Excuse me. Hi!”

The woman looked at Y/N with attitude. “Um, why are you speaking to me?”

Y/N took a deep breath to calm down. “ I’m speaking to you because you’re talking to my boyfriend and you obviously see him uncomfortable.” It was for the sake of the moment. Bucky and Y/N aren’t together, just a few flirts here and there. But since Y/N knew this bitch couldn’t take a hint she said, boyfriend.

“You might have him confused for”

Y/N cut her off, “No I don’t have him confused for no one. That’s my boyfriend so get your desperate ass out of his face before I embarrass you in front of everyone. We don’t want that do we? Now walk away miss.”

The woman turned her nose up walking away without saying another word. Once she was out of sight, Bucky visibly relaxed. “Thank you so much Y/N. She wouldn’t stop talking and my a-anxiety was getting bad because I didn’t know her and...” He shook his leg. Y/N sat beside him giving him a hug.

“Hey hey calm down, it’s okay now. I could see she made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to stand there and let her continue to do that.”

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Anything for you Bucky.” Y/N kissed his forehead then she stood up, holding out her hand. “Now let’s go get this table because I did cut the hostess off coming to help you.”

Bucky laughed grabbing her hand. As they walked back over to the stand, realization hit Bucky. He smirked.

“So I’m your boyfriend now?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “No Bucky, it was in the heat of the moment.”

“What if I was to ask you out?”

“In your dreams Bucky.”

————

This took longer to write then what it supposed to be.

Hope you guys like it 🥰, I was trying to include a Loki moment because I’m starting to like him more.

Stay slutty my friendsss!

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it.  She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac.  I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm.  Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

Next ->

[bokunosimpfiction]

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

             The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

             You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

             His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

             The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

             “Hey, babe.”

             “I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

             “We’re over.”

             You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

             You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

             “So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

             You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

             “Who are you?”

             She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

             You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

             She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

             “What happened to my guardian angel?”

             She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

             “What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

             “Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

             “So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

             She turns to you. “When I what now?”

             “Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

             “Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

             “At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

             “I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

             She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

             You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

             “His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

             “Do you kill us?”

             She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

             “Like setting his car on fire.”

             “I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

             Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

             “Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

             You can’t formulate words.

             “Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

             “You did that!”

             “They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

             “Is Jesus real?”

             “I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

             “One more.”

             “It better not be stupid, darling.”

             “What ice cream should I get?”

             Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Rating: T+ Warning: angst Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: The ending is trash. But it’s my trash. We’ve got one more chapter to go and then that’s a wrap on this project! 

________________________________________

Naveen drove the car back to the cabin before parking it on the cobbled drive, the engine shutting off with a quick flick of his key. Still caught in an awkward silence as heavy as the rain clouds above, the trio padded back towards the cabin. Ethan watched Becca out of the corner of his eye, holding a few paces back with Naveen to let her approach the porch first. In the doorway, Sienna was waiting with two bath towels draped over her arms. A wave of relief washed over her petite form as she saw them; her big eyes softening and bottom lip quivering with all the emotions she saved for the worst of outcomes.

“Becca!” Sienna called as she closed the distance between her and Becca, wrapping her soaking wet friend in a hug around a large, plush towel. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

For someone who’s life nearly drifted away with the current earlier, Becca seemed strangely quiet and calm. She didn’t even look at Sienna; darkened eyes trained on her peripheral, towards the unrelenting waters. “I’m fine, Si. Just went for a little swim.”

Sienna looked at her with critical eyes, not believing a single word coming out of her friend’s mouth. She would have said something in any other circumstances, but she was too thankful that Becca was breathing at the minute. This conversation would have to wait. She turned her attention to the other rogue swimmer now coming up behind them, handing him the other towel still draped on her arm.    

“Ethan, are you okay?” she asked the attending, her trained doctor’s eyes scanning him for obvious injuries. 

He took the offered towel gratefully. “Please, there is no need to worry about me.” He wiped his face first then draped the burgundy fabric over his shoulders, shivering as the cold wind caught his wet clothes, “Where’s Jenner?” 

Sienna nodded towards the ajar door, her arms still wrapped securely around her best friend. “In with Elijah.” 

Ethan nodded and went inside to his dog, sparing one last glance towards a despondent Becca on his way. 

With a small, resigned sigh, Sienna turned her full attention back towards her friend and guided her to the door. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” 

Sienna led Becca inside and up to her room. Elijah didn’t notice the girls as he was in deep conversation with Ethan in the archway to the den. For that, Becca was thankful; they could just slip upstairs and rest.  

 As soon as the girls reached the threshold of the master suite, Sienna closed the door softly behind them and reached for her friend, her eyes severe now that they were blessed with the privacy they didn’t have earlier. “You okay?” She asked with a concerned hand gripping Becca’s forearm; her tone of voice emitting a firm warning that she would accept the truth and nothing else.

Becca shrugged Sienna off, taking a step back to shed her wet clothes and throwing on her pajamas. Biting her tongue this round, Sienna gathered up the strewn garments into a pile and wrung them out in the bathroom, making a mental note to wash them once the power came back on. Becca didn’t waste a single second before immediately crawling under the covers while Sienna watched with a very careful eye.  

Sensing the stare, Becca sighed heavily. “Si, I’m fine. Truly.” 

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “That’s what you say, but you were literally being ripped down stream, you could have died.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

Light pads of sock-clad feet walked to the bed with private determination and sat on the edge of the mattress, her eyes begging. “Talk to me, please.” - a hand reaching for the top of Becca’s thigh - “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

But Becca wasn’t waving, keeping her gaze on the darkwood bedpost in front of her to avoid Sienna’s concerned one. “That I really need to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

“Bec-” 

There was a knock at the door, making both ladies tense in place. Sienna reluctantly moved to open it and was met with Dr. Banerji’s warm smile, his medical bag cradled against his hip. 

Ever in dire situations like this one, the senior doctor never seemed to run out of positive energy. He stepped in the room and glided closer to the bed, a comforting smile decorating his lips. “I’ve come to take your temperature and listen to your lungs,” he informed them. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

Becca rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. She swung her legs off the bed and sat on the edge, letting Naveen inspect her. Thankfully, she only had a few cuts on her hands that were in need of bandaging, most likely inflicted while she fought to hold herself against the current earlier 

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he applied ointment and bandages to her palms.  

“Tired.” 

“As expected,” he nodded. She wasn’t forthcoming, so he made sure to update her on what has been going on downstairs; “Ethan has a gash on his leg. Dr. Greene is stitching him up.” The gossiper in him carefully gauged her reaction while his more romantic side hoped to see something pass along her features, possibly akin to relief, but he was disappointed there was nothing but the tired eyes of a woman who’s been through hell that afternoon. 

She felt his critical gaze searching her. The third one silently scrutinizing the last hour; and it made her blood begin to boil.  

“I didn’t need rescuing. I know how to combat a riptide. What he did was stupid,” she clarified, indifferent to his comment.  

Naveen chuckled and offered her a kind smile, although one that hid a hint of seriousness in it. “We both know exactly why he did it, Becca.”  

Becca scoffed and shook her head, looking away. 

The older doctor sighed and put away his medical tools. He obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of her tonight, and he’d been around this kind of temperament long enough to know when to resign. It was almost comical just how similar she was to his protégé, especially when it came to their ironclad stubbornness. “You’ve been through a lot today, dear. I’m prescribing you some much-needed rest.” 

Becca rolled her eyes.

With a taut smile, Naveen gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder before taking his medical bag and leaving the room.

  While Naveen was with Becca, Sienna had excused herself to make some tea. The petite resident was now staring at the kettle, transfixed, but not actually watching the steam spill out into the shadows of night. The worry for her friend still ever present in her mind and the creases on her forehead. In a daze Sienna poured two two mugs full. 

She was just setting the kettle back down on the hob when a gruff sound had her jumping out of her trance and turning on the balls of her feet.  

“Let me,” Ethan said quietly. 

The two shared the same despondent look, though one of them had a deeper reason for it. 

Sienna’s eyes expertly roved over him. He’d changed into clean pajamas, his hair wild and partially dry from drying it in a towel. His weight being carried on one side of his body, no doubt from his injury. His eyes were dark, and there were prominent purple circles under his eyes. And his large hand was extended towards her, waiting with all the patience of a dying man. 

With a small smile, she hands the mug over without a single reservation. 

And Sienna watches intently as Ethan gingerly makes his way through the cabin and up to Becca. 

 *

In the few short minutes she was left alone Becca snuggled deeper into the blankets. Rolled onto her side so her back was to the door and her face buried in a pillow begging her to spill everything all over. 

Over her tormenting thoughts she recognized the patter of footsteps against the hardwood of the hallway and sniffled all the emotion back. If Sienna saw her crying it’d become a much bigger thing than Becca ever wanted it to be. She’ll save her tears for later. 

When the steps grew louder, crossing the threshold, Becca muttered, “You should just sleep here tonight instead of going up and down to check on me.” 

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Even in the minimal light of the candle on the dresser Ethan could see her stiffen. Could hear the discontented sigh that escaped her when his words met her ears. 

He stood suspended in the doorway, questioning every instinct he thought he knew.    

Becca shifted under the sheets, moving to sit up in bed. 

“Thought you were Sienna.” Her tone was still and level and wildly indifferent as she chanced a look at him.  

“Sorry to disappoint,” he muttered back. Crossing the distance Ethan held out a mug to her; “Are you okay?” 

She took the offering, a forced smile on her lips. “Peachy.” 

“Becca…”

“I’m fine, Ethan.” She groans, deflating. “What do you want me to say?” 

“You can start with why you’ve been upset with me all day.” 

Becca couldn’t help the absolutely indecent chortle that erupted from her. 

“I’m not upset with you. I’m mad at myself.” 

Ethan made a garble akin to Huh?

And that just fueled the fire that’s begun to rage within her the last day and rivals the treacherous storm this hurricane caused. 

“Why did you come after me?” She all but spat the accusation. “It was so reckless and stupid. You could have been hurt. You have stitches for Christ’s sake!” 

“You could have drowned. I wasn’t going to let that happen.” 

The audacity in his unbridled poise had her stirring under the sheets and gripping the mug tighter. 

“Superman Complex already belongs to someone else. Why, Ethan.” 

It was a standoff between them. Him in his dry clothes - white tee and gray sweatpants, standing at the side of her bed. Becca was shielded by the blankets but still sitting tall and commanding for someone of her stature. He couldn’t read her ever-telling body language in the dim light of the master bedroom. All he could make out was her silhouette, rigid and doing all she could to cloak herself behind an unsuccessful curtain of hair.  

Holding onto the sliver of revelation he had earlier, Ethan spoke truthfully. 

“Because I care about you. You have such a fulfilling life ahead an-” 

It certainly didn’t have the intended impact. For she cut him off with a resoundingly offended; 

“Can you stop.” 

His darkened azure eyes were wide with panic. “What -” 

“I’m sick of these mind games.”

Her tone was flat, and that scared Ethan Ramsey more than anything. It would be better if she was yelling. He found himself wishing she was yelling even if he had no inkling as to what this argument is actually about.  

“I know you care about me, Ethan. But is that all this is?” 

She finally looked him in his eyes. The darkness of the room complimented the depths of her darkened irises, and he couldn’t see a single emotion in them. All he could see was all of his failures. 

“I - I’m in too deep with you. I may have almost drowned this afternoon, but it was nothing compared to this choking feeling of swimming in all this doubt and uncertainty.” 

He moved towards her. Placing his mug on the bedside. This close he could just begin to make out the hurt in the creases of her frown. 

“Becca,” he reached for her. His hand suspended in midair, waiting for her permission to cup her cheek. 

Instead, she looked down at her fingers tracing the Edenbrook logo on the pristine white ceramic mug between her palms. 

Ethan waited. 

And waited. 

Frozen in place until she said something, anything. 

“Be honest with me,” the words came out on an exhale. “No one else is around. Just me.” Her voice so frail as she turned her whole form towards him. “Tell me.”

The outstretched fingers on his hand curled inwards. His fist raised -- once, twice punching against an invisible opponent as his inner self weighed all his options.

He could tell her - he could finally be truly honest. 

He could do what’s right. 

He could lay everything out there and let her take the reins. 

More realistically, he could continue to hold onto the values he’d had all his life. 

The longer the silence hung between them, and the pattering of the storm echoed throughout the bedroom walls, the more a reality without her became apparent.

Rebecca Lao is a strong woman - he knows this. And Ethan is ever so aware that she won’t wait for him forever. If her stint today told him anything it’d be that it is he who couldn’t survive a life without her. 

Every millisecond that passed, every slight turn of her head and stroke of her finger against the mug, he knew he was losing her. And for once, Ethan Ramsey - renowned doctor, known for his belligerent voice and affluent vocabulary - couldn’t find the words.  

Just as she let out a disquieting breath, he took the leap. Knees pressed flush against the side of the mattress. Long, deft fingers grazing the quilt at the side of her hip. His eyes never leave her. Becca was looking down as if all hope was lost. As if his silence spoke for him.  

It didn’t - 

“I want to be with you.” 

Becca felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. How long had she been waiting to hear them? How long has she been hoping Ethan Ramsey would commit to only her with a promise of forever? Far longer than she’d care to admit, that’s for sure. 

Ethan watched her lips part, her jaw slacken. Every pretty feature he adored more than life itself stunned stiff. 

In true fashion Becca schooled her features as soon as his words rang through the mahogany room. Bitter words formed on her tongue, accompanied by a desolate huff, 

“You sure about that?” 

Not a single hesitation as Ethan responded, “Yes.”  

“You sure have some fucked up way of showing it.” She watched him from the corner of her eye, shifting in his place and a rueful tug at the corners of his mouth. 

Ethan kneeled down beside the bed, coming to her level, “I know.” 

This is never how Becca imagined getting Ethan Ramsey down on his knees. All those fantasies didn’t join a near death experience or a fight. 

His palms spread out on the quilt. All of him itching to touch her. If he could touch her, everything would be okay. 

A beat forced itself between them. Ethan staring at his fingers inching towards her above the horrid colored quilt, and Becca looking blankly at the top of his head. 

And then she murmured;  

“I can’t be with you if you’re going to treat me like shit all the time.” 

“It was never my intention. I just want what’s bes-” 

“Best for me, I know. But you don’t get to dictate that. It’s my life, I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.” 

He was listening. He was guilty and listening. 

“I want you, Ethan.” 

Those words were like music to his ears - to know she really, truly shared the sentiment. His deep blue gaze flickered up to her; staring at her from under long lashes and hanging on to her every word. This was everything they’ve both wanted - a proper admission of devotion. Then why did she look so sad?  

“But not if you’re going to keep pulling away from me.”  

Ah. There it was. All his faults coming back - his one mistake at abandoning her after she needed him most digging deep.  

“I’m sorry. All of this was to protect you. I’ll always, always protect you.” 

Becca’s heart skipped a beat at the unbridled conviction in his tone against her better judgment.  

“I don’t need a hero, Ethan.” Becca shook her head in kind admonishment. “I want a partner. Someone who will let me make mistakes and just hold me through it at the end of the day.” 

A bolt of lightning cracked in the distance. Their stare on one another so strong, devoted, that she couldn’t see through the clear blue of his irises and deep into his soul the moment the fleeting lightness peered in. 

“Okay,” was all he said.  

He responded quickly and with such fortitude that she couldn’t help but be skeptical. 

Becca rose a brow. 

Ethan moved closer and grabbed her hand, adding a squeeze. 

In a low voice she said, “I want to make the most of the time we have left. If I get a job elsewhere… I don’t want to regret anything.” 

His brows pulled together as this little known fact wormed its way into his rationality. “You’re thinking of leaving Edenbrook?” He held onto her hand just a bit tighter. 

“I don’t know,” she half shrugged. “If…”

He finished the question for her. “Of course you’ll have a job. The spot on my team is yours.” 

“Yeah, I know. But if…” Becca didn’t know how to accurately explain her fears. If they didn’t work out after all this would she still be able to work with him? Would he be able to? What if she received an amazing offer elsewhere. What happens to them if she takes it? 

“Can we not think about this right now.” 

Taking both her cold hands in his, Ethan simply nodded. 

He could feel the scary stirring in the pit of his stomach. Every pang of it subsiding the longer her warmth was within reach. The last of his fears overtaken by the most adorable sound as she stifled a yawn.  

Ethan let go of her hand just long enough to brush some strands back from her face. Un-showered and salty from the day’s events her cheek was still soft under his touch. He leaned up to press the lightest of pecks to her forehead. 

Ethan was less than a few centimeters away from where she wanted him most. One movement and it could all be right and well. Becca brushed her nose against the stubble of his chin, coaxing him downwards. She could feel his grin against her skin as his stubble marked her nose. Every second he didn’t succumb, the tip grew redder and redder. 

Ethan pulled back - too far for a quick descend down to her lips - and Becca almost threw a tempered fist into the mattress. Almost. 

He was looking at her with such reverence it made her whole entire body tingle. Like his stares were the hand of Da Vinci trying to capture her image - immortalize it for the rest of time. Trying desperately to paint this to memory - this moment where everything for them seemed to change for the better. This was the moment Ethan Ramsey knew. 

Becca was mere inches away. One more movement and she would know - know that he is irrevocably her. One more movement and he’d seal their fate. 

Her eyes flickered down to his chapped lips, and this time she didn’t look away. This time there was no enchanting classic playing on the television, just the person before them. This time Ethan was thankful for her focus. He let out the breath he was holding in. Watched her eyelids flutter as the warm gust met her lashes. Leaned in and listened. Listened to the erratic thumping. Thumping of his heart or hers or the hurricane, he didn’t know. 

Didn’t care. Couldn’t give a damn about anything other than her. 

Their lips met. Softly, tenderly. The shortest, most endearing kiss they’ve ever had. Neither wanting to ruin this with overzealous lust.  

They pulled back, unencumbered smiles gracing their features; and then she yawned again. 

Light with strange happiness, Ethan gently pressed her back into pillows. Pulled the covers around her to tuck her in. 

He kissed her chastely once more. Then pulled away. 

Every step he took from her side of the bed had her chiding herself for being so stupid for believing him this time. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. 

Ethan moved through the darkness. The raging winds of reality jolted through them, pounding on the expansive windows. Getting louder and more unruly the further he got. 

But then he did something so unexpected. So surprisingly unlike the man she thought she knew. 

He pulled back the covers of the other side of the bed and slipped in. Ethan shifted closer and closer atop the king sized bed until his arm wrapped around her waist, the other snaking under her neck. Becca welcomed him without a single hesitation or ill thought. This is exactly what she hoped for yesterday. 

Ethan had that smile - that one smile reserved only for her - as he dove into the covers with her, never intending to come back up. Their sweet embrace was all the sustenance he needed to survive. In this moment - and all of them to come, he’s sure - he and Becca were the only two people in the universe.

The storm outside was moving miles and miles away. 

________________________________________

A/N: there was meant to be a cute bathtub scene at the end before they went to bed. it required too much effort so it got the axe. oh well! thanks for sticking around <3

@openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ 

Perma:

@lucy-268​  @thegreentwin​  @queencarb​  @danijimenezv​  @starrystarrytrouble​   @terrm9​ @interobanginyourmom​ @maurine07​  @mercury84choices​  @schnitzelbutterfingers​  @the-pale-goddess​ @whimsicallywayward15​  @mvalentine​  @mm2305​ @rookie-ramsey​ @drariellevalentine​   @withbeautyandrage​  @forallthatitsworth​   @stateofgracious​  @missmiimiie​  @uneravine​   @iemcpbchoices​  @sophxwithers​ @therookie​ @quixoticdreamer16​ @lsvdw-blog​

Ethan:

@udishaman​  @binny1985​  @honeyandsunfl0wers​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @ohchoices​  @dulceghernandez​ @blossomanarchy​  @stygianflood​  @caseyvalentineramsey @openheartthot​ @senseofduties​  @tsrookie​  @kalogh​ @aworldoffandoms​  @takemyopenheart​  @casey-v​ @ethanramseylover​ @a-crepusculo​ @randomperson111​  @lilypills @anntoldst0ries​ @nix-grey  @aishaaaaaaah​ @estellaelysian​ @mysticaurathings​ @mayarambles​

[ficforce]

Asakusa Crush Part 1

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader SFW / NSFW No set timeline New relationship

Hikage and Hinata had been munching on their sweets, following close behind Benimaru who was buying them whatever he could to keep them quiet - they were particularly hyper that day and he was beginning to wish he hadn’t let them tag along. It was a routine walk through the town, making sure nothing was going to wrong and that none of the smaller gangs had any ideas about who Asakusa belonged to. The girls both walked straight into him as the man stopped suddenly and a head popped out either side of him to see what the fuss was up ahead.

A big man was mouthing off at the front of a store, demanding the owner come out and settle things like a man and accusing them of robbing him.

“Another fight, huh…” Benimaru crossed his arms and watched as the twins stood in front of him to watch. The guy must have been about six foot four and he had a big build, Benimaru figured he’d pack a punch but not be too fast on his feet, the scars and bruised knuckles identified him as a guy who brawled a lot. The curtain was moved aside from the store and out stepped a young lady, she was wearing a flowery yukata and he was a little surprised to see she was only wearing bandaged binding beneath it, had she just woken up? She was rubbing her eyes and then pushed her hair out of the way a little.

“Where’s the old bastard who owns this shit hole?!” The man stalked over to the woman and put his hand on her shoulder to move her out of the way. Benimaru barely caught the move so he was damned sure that the big guy never saw it coming. Her hand had shot up onto his wrist and with an elegant twist and using his own momentum against him, she had the man on his back on the dusty ground.

She stepped back from him and covered a slight yawn, she had definitely been taking a nap, “What’s your problem? You were loud last night too. If you can’t handle your drink then don’t come here anymore.”

“Y/N is hilarious!” Hinata cheered,

Hikage nodded, “She’s always best when she’s sleepy!”

Benimaru looked down at the two, they knew her? He couldn’t recall ever seeing her and he thought he had met most people in the town, “Y/N? Who the hell is she?”

“She came here a month ago, Waka, the bar owner is her grandpa or something.”

“Sooner he kicks the bucket the sooner she can make it fun for us!” The two giggled and then hung onto Benimaru, “She has a cool fire trick too!”

By this point the man had gotten up off the ground, spitting onto it and getting himself up, he swung at Y/N twice, both times she stepped out of the way and on his third swing she punched him between the eyes and he fell down flat. Unconscious before he hit the dirt. “Yeah! Kick his ass Y/N!”

Benimaru met Y/N’s eyes as she looked in his direction, it was for a second and then she glanced down at the twins, her annoyed expression brightened and she grinned at the girls with a small thumbs up. The Captain’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt an odd heat spike inside his gut, why the hell was that?

A tug on his clothing pulled the left sleeve down and he yanked it back up, Hikage sticking her tongue out at him and the bouncing on her feet as she saw Y/N approach them, “You two weren’t even gonna help, were you?”

They shook their heads and then grinned at one another before pointing up at Benimaru, “We were waiting for the man to do the decent thing!”

“Waka didn’t do a thing!

“Shame on you!”

He clicked his tongue at them, grumbling for them to shut up and then he was looking at the woman close up. She didn’t seem special, her appearance was a little rough, the yukata was too big for her and obviously just thrown on - did she even know that it was so open? She didn’t even have anything on her feet. She was plain and he was oddly speechless.

“Waka?” She asked and then she seemed to have a moment of realisation, “You’re Be- uh, Shinmon Benimaru, right?”

She was from the Empire then? She’d barely caught herself in saying his name in the correct order, that should have put him off her but it really didn’t, she looked like she belonged in Asakusa and Benimaru was still struggling to speak so he just nodded.

“Hika and Hina gave me the heads up on who’s who in Asakusa, you’re pretty high on their list of people. I’m Y/N, sorry for the ruckus just now…” She figured that fighting in the street wasn’t the best way to meet the town’s Demolishing King.

“What fighting style were you using?” That was the only thing he could get to come out of his mouth.

“A little Aikido, some Kobudo and generally the skill of avoiding getting hit. I lived on the outskirts of the Empire barely inside of Tokyo, it got a little rough from time to time.” She watched him give another nod and took a step back, “Well, I guess I’m up now, I better get the bar ready for tonight - Later, girls!” The twins chimed in their goodbyes and then gave a pull on Benimaru as they complained he was too slow.

He had been fixated on watching Y/N walk away, he wanted to follow her and talk a little more now that the beating in his chest had calmed down. “What the hell was that…?”

—

Konro couldn’t help but watch in fascination as his young Captain stared after the new girl, the mismatched red eyes glued to her as she chatted away with Hinata and Hikage after bringing snacks to the guardhouse. The Company had been busy rebuilding most of the morning and people were bringing them food and drink to keep them going, there was nothing like watching a loved one combust and getting put to rest to bring everyone together. But since she had arrived, Benimaru hadn’t moved and his face had a little more colour to it, he decided to try something out and made a random comment, “She’s pretty.” He was being honest, she was wearing a cute yukata with a flowery belt, she wasn’t too made up and her hair was kept simple - she looked like a sweet girl.

“She’s amazing.”

Konro nearly choked on his surprise, “What?”

“…W-what?” Benimaru tore his eyes away and looked up at Konro, his face heating up as he realised what had just happened and he turned his head to glare at the opposite wall, “Shut up! Get that dumb look off your face or I’ll -“

“You’ll what?” Konro smirked, “Blush some more?” This was great, Benimaru didn’t get crushes, Benimaru wasn’t a virgin either but he never really showed too much interest in women. For him to actually get embarrassed like this was better than any hazing he had put Benimaru through as a young teen. “I wish I had the camera right now.”

Benimaru clicked his tongue angrily and stepped out of the doorway without looking, straight into Y/N like some dumb cliche. “Watch it!”

“You stepped into me, dumbass!” Y/N shot back at him with a glare to match his own, a slight orange glow to her eyes.

Benimaru wanted to know what she could do, was she a second or a third-generation? Would she have a real sting in her tail or was she just flashy? “Tch!” He went to sidestep her but she blocked him, “The hell you want?”

“An apology.”

“Not happening, move” He reached a hand to her shoulder to move her aside and grunted as she used the heel of her palm to knock it away. Was she challenging him? She didn’t look anything like the woman fighting in the street a few days ago, this well-groomed, pretty face had no place in giving him trouble. “I said move.”

He moved quicker this time and she countered, their palms and forearms collided several times as they attacked and countered, “And I said apologise.”

There was a small crowd around them now, excited murmurs buzzing along them as they watched the standoff. Konro grabbed Hinata and Hikage before they could run over and join in, he approached them both and put a hand on each of them. “If you’re gonna fight, do it away from the new building work.” Benimaru shrugged him off and walked away in the opposite direction, Konro watched after him with a barely concealed smile - he had it bad for this girl. “You shouldn’t play with fire.”

“I’m fireproof,” Y/N smiled up at the man benignly, “Besides…I’m just pulling on his pigtails.”

The twins giggled at her side and teased her about her own crush on Benimaru.

[katsukisblackteddy]

The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt. 

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens. 

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I  𓂀 PART II 𓂀 

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home. 

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people. 

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler. 

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her. 

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded. 

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room. 

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in. 

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.” 

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room. 

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow. 

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl. 

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son. 

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas​ 

TAGS:

[emkay512]

Once Upon A Time

Chapter 1

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: This is my FIRST EVER post and it’s literal trash 😅 I’ve never written before I found you all, and I’ve never had so much fun reading all the stories I found. If you read this please know I’m a complete rookie and I have no idea what I’m doing haha. I welcome and encourage any thoughts and feedback!

A/N 2: my biggest thank you’s to @queenrileyrose and @bbrandy2002 for pre-reading and giving me endless boosts of confidence!!! This first ever, cherry popping post, is in honor of you ❤️

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m tagging those I’ve connected with and thought would be interested. Please let me know if you do or don’t want to be tagged!

@burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis

The welcome ball had been exhausting. Riley finally saw them, all of them, the good and the bad. Mostly bad with Liam being the exception.. except the fact that with him came his stupid fiancée. She was forced to deal with the Penelope’s and Kiara’s of the court, and got none of the Olivia’s and Drake’s of the world, with Olivia blackmailed and Drake most likely avoiding the court. Majority of the conversations she had to deal with throughout the night consisted of her rebutting all the allegations against her, most people believing that she had jilted their king. At least she had Maxwell and Bertrand, her home away from home. With the maybe two seconds she had Liam to herself and the amount of work and effort she had to put into her first public appearance, she was completely drained and changed from a gown and into more comfortable leggings and tank after she got back to her room of the Fydelia estate. Just as she was decompressing from the stress of her night, there was a knock on the door. She opened the door to see a particular grin on the face of one Maxwell Beaumont carrying a vase of two dozen roses.

“Greetings, little blossom! One of the staff members stopped me on the way of delivering these, asking what room you were in and I insisted on catching you myself.” Maxwell invited himself into her room after handing her the arrangement. Riley pressed the roses to her nose, inhaling the beautiful scent, and she noticed a note wrapped around one of the stems. She unwrapped the note and turned to Maxwell, who had already cozied himself up on her bed, clearly excited to hear what was on the note. “I noticed the paper in the arrangement too, it’s clearly from Liam isn’t it? You did so great tonight and he had the biggest puppy dog eyes on you, I knew his Prince Charming ass would pull off something like this.. well, go on! Read it!”

Riley quickly unwrapped and read Liam’s note, she had no idea the girlish grin she had plastered on and Maxwell was beaming. He had hated these past few weeks so much, he had been watching one of his closest friends, his makeshift sister, live in desperate torment, questioning her worth after hearing nothing from those she cared most about. She put the roses down and placed the note down next to them and looked up at Maxwell, “He wants me to meet him on his balcony in 20 minutes..”

“That is charmingly romantic, but did he slip in his royal socks and tumble down Madeleine’s overly buffed stairs?? He’s clear across the estate, it’s way too dangerous for you to get out of here alone.”

Riley sighed and collapsed onto the bed with Maxwell, “I don’t know Max, his note is sweet and remorseful, but.. maybe this isn’t about getting back together.. maybe I should just focus on helping house Beaumont and getting home..”

Maxwell stretched across to Riley and smacked her across her head, “Come on, Riles! You have been unable to go a single day without asking about him.. at least twice a day! You NEED to go meet him, otherwise I think both of your little fairy tale hearts will die.”

Riley smirked and rolled her eyes, “You’re so dramatic! And please tell me what fairy tale involved a half nude photo scandal and public humiliation leading to a bullshit engagement between a king and the only ice queen that would rival both Olivia and Elsa while singing let it go? Plus, didn’t you just mention that it’d be too dangerous for me to get to him?”

“Hellooooooo?? Ok first of all, literally all fairy tales are structured that way, couple meets and falls in love, and a public enemy curses them with a dramatic, heartbreaking lie, and then they defile all enemies and live happily ever after.. you’re just living the 21st century version of that! Nudes are basically the most vanilla scandal these days anyway. And secondly, have you JUST met mr covert ops extraordinaire, Maxwell Beaumont!? I said it’d be too dangerous for you to go out alone. Let’s just simply walk out together, and if we get any questions, we can just say we’re meeting my brother for.. you know.. this and that diplomacy reason.. whatever, I’ll wing it. Plus, look at you, you’re already dressed for stealth. I just need to get you outside, and then you can scamper over to Liam’s side of the building. Whaddya say, blossom?”

Riley was exhilarated. Maxwell always knew how to say the right things. She locked eyes with him, pointed straight to his chest and said, “You son of a bitch, I’m in.” They shared a mischievous smile and giggled their way out of her room, totally giddy without even shutting the door all the way. They were completely unaware of the royal guard that had been manning her room and slipped inside.

Thanks to Maxwell, Riley had successfully snuck out of the estate and crept to below the balcony of Liam’s room. She had to think fast as to how the hell she’d get up there, and then she spotted the flower vine growing on a trellis against the building, and she let out a small victorious, “Yes!”

But as soon as she took a step in that direction, a hand grabbed her shoulder and jerked her around so she was facing one of the royal guards. “I don’t think so, lady Riley,” he put a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the term lady, as he was clearly disgusted by her newfound tarnished reputation. “You’re coming with us.”

“Us?” And then from behind her, another guard bagged her head and she felt the grip of two men on each of her arms as they forced her to their destination, practically dragging her as they went. Riley’s heart was thundering in her chest. Where were they taking her? Back to the airport? A jail cell? A dungeon? A firing squad? She wasn’t at all expecting what she got. She was sat on a decently comfortable chair. The guards removed the bag and revealed to see she was in a study. A large one. And there before her on the opposite end of a mighty desk, was the king father, Constantine.

Constantine nodded a dismal to both the guards, and they took their leave. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced American.” Riley was utterly confused and could feel the former kings command in the mood of the room. He did not like her, and she could feel his dislike radiating off of him. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, you foolish girl?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You had your exit, your out. You were scandled. Ostracized! I even had you as far as at the airport gates. But no, you came back. You came back and left me back at square one on how to get rid of you!”

Realization dawned to her, “It was YOU!” Riley leapt to her feet. She felt no fear, only anger coursing through her. “YOU staged those photos, YOU unleashed Tariq on me.. and you timed the release of those photos, at the most prime time allowing maximum humiliation and zero time in between Liam’s announcement. You’re despicable, I bet you’re even disappointed that Tariq’s attack on me didn’t end.. didn’t end up the way he planned.” She had deliberately slowed her speech as each new revelation came to play in her head, she had lowered her voice with disdain and disgust.

Constantine let out a scoff-laugh at what he considered to be a poor attempt of exerting dominance. “You’re right, and quite honestly I don’t care what that pompous buffoon would have done to you, but I must say, those pictures certainly did deliver.” Constantine was teasing and patronizing her, “And now you’re here, still trying to get to my son.”

Riley crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t know what you’re tal-“

“Enough. I know everything.” He waved in front of her the very note that Liam had written inviting her to his balcony that he got from one of the guards. “You poisoned his heart, and now his marriage. And with that, the entire kingdom is poisoned, all because your feelings.” He spit the last word out as if he found it vile.

“I wish feelings could be helped, but they can’t.”

“Of course they can. Love is a disease, and like all diseases, it can be vanquished in one of two ways. A cure, or death.” Constantine stood and leaned both of his palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Do you know where your beloved is right now? He’s right down that hallway, he should be packing for his new life, prepared to take on his engagement tour to unify two Cordonian houses and assume the responsibilities and sacrifices it takes to be king. But no.. He’s pining for you. Awaiting your arrival.”

“And I suppose you intend to keep him that way? Waiting for me, only to be rejected, never knowing I came for him?” Riley’s voice was desperate, but still cunning in reality. She needed him to know her questionnaire was not doubtful, but challenging. That she hated his deliberate intentions.

“No. In fact, you’re gonna walk down that hallway. You’re gonna sneak in and tell him you got his note,” Constantine slid the note across the table, no longer wanting it in his possession, and Riley picked it up. “You’re gonna tell him why you answered his call.. Because you don’t love him. It’ll break his heart.. And that will cure him.”

Wide eyed, Riley could only assume the consequence if she didn’t do as he said, “Or you’ll kill me.” She stated with no question in her mind.

“Oh no. I’ll kill him. Killing you would only make him love you more. And the marriage and kingdom would ultimately crumble.”

“And what about your precious Madeleine? I know how this works this is all about mergers and business transactions. How else would you get Godfrey and his house to join with yours?”

“Please, if Liam were to die at an assassin’s hand, he would die a martyr. Godfrey would forgive, even laud, the death. And the merger would be complete.”

“You would do that to your own son?”

“I’m doing it FOR my son.” Love was once Constantine's weakness and it led to Eleanor’s death. It scarred him and he became brainwashed. Convinced love was the enemy. And now, the product of his foolish love, was Liam, who he groomed to be the perfect king. Constantine applauded himself all these years. It was clear as day that even Leo knew the job belonged to Liam, so Constantine did everything to assuage any of Liam’s hesitation into taking on his duty. He always planned on Liam being the logical one, ready to take on the duty and a loveless union. Then that damn New York trip happened. And that damn Riley came in the picture. Immediately Constantine couldn’t tell if he actually hated Riley, or if he hated the idea that Riley was basically the new version of Eleanor that he’d never have.

[black-rose-writings]

Reading Siege and Storm because I hate myself

To begin, I’d like to state that this is my first read-through and I only have vague idea of the plot I’ve gathered from fanfics and tumblr posts.

Long post ahead

Chapter 1

So... at first I was like - huh, this isn’t as bad as I thought, but the moment Alina gets introspective, it all goes to hell.

Like, she’s being physically made sick by not using her powers, which is making her feel useless - like, she says, pretty much verbatim: “The only thing I was ever good at was being a Sun Summoner and I’m not that anymore.”

I’m gonna beat those paragraphs over the head of anyone, who says Alina got a good ending.

I’ve also noticed just how often the like “I pushed that thought away” is used and more often than not, it’s used on thoughts that should probably not be pushed away.

Ah, yes, here he comes, my boy Darkles, being the dramatic bitch he always is. We get it, you’re the hot villain, tempting the good and pure heroine away from being good and pure.

And I’m just now realizing how many times in this chapter has Alina lamented their lack of privacy. We have to ensure the reader doesn’t hink she’s *gasp* sleeping with Mal.

Chapter 2

What?

Alina is tripping balls while being put under by a Heartrender, got it.

Darkling is being the voice of reason, but I’m getting the distinct feeling it won’t last.

Ivan gets one point, because Alina is in fact a traitor, but he’s also being a cunt, so it doesn’t really count.

Alina at Sturmhond: Do you even care about Ravka?

Me at Alina: Do you?

Chapter 3

“Mermaids are not real”. I’m pretty sure they are in the Grishaverse.

My boy Darkles is still making sense, but Alina is dedicated to being against him just for the hell of it, it seems.

Did this bitch just throw a tantrum, because he told her, what we can assume is the truth? Okay. Like, I get that she’s at best 18, but still. Not exactly the type of protagonist whose head I like being in.

And in that moment, dozens of smut fics were born.

Chapter 4

Wow, that was quick.

Aaand. What had just happened?

Chapter 5

Sturmhond is a funny bitch, I’ll give him that.

And this entire conversation, it seems like Mal’s entire purpose is to stand behind Alina threateningly and repeat what she said, lol.

I’d like to remind Alina (and LB) that a king in an absolutist monarchy (which is what Ravka appears to be) is very much a tyrant. Don’t make it sound like Ravka didn’t have a tyrant before. And at the very least, my boy Darkles seems pretty competent.

A man calling himself a Storm Dog likes dogs. No shit.

Chapter 6

I hate Mal. Dude, this is your girlfriend, maybe like... listen to her? Don’t bludgeon her with the one other guy she was kinda-sorta with, when you are a well known manwhore?

I don’t know man, I don’t like him.

Everyone: You can’t have more than one amplifier, it’s dangerous.

Alina: Haha, sparkles go brrrr

Chapter 7

In other news, pirates are funny.

Holy shit, they have a plane.

That was... a lot. And we’re crossing the Fold again, yay.

Chapter 8

You feel bad for the Volcra but not for the people you’ve left for dead in the Fold last time? Okay.

Baby Volcra. Am I supposed to say “ew” or “aww”? If I tried doing both at the same time, it would probably sound like one.

Jesus fucking Christ this book is a ride.

Did Alina really just have an “oh no, he’s hot?” moment? *sighs*

Puppy boy has a title longer than Daenerys, jesus.

Alina, my dear, you could have waited for a bit before doing that. There’s like thirty soldier with guns around you and you’ve just punched a prince.

Then again, you’ve never been smart, have you?

Chapter 9

For once, I completely agree with him. I know you two have lost your one shared braincell on that first crossing of the Fold but still, that was very dumb of you, Alina.

I’m starting to get why people were calling Nikolai “Darkling light”. Definitelly seems appropriate.

Mal, calm the fuck down, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard and you know it.

You two didn’t even let Alina get a word in for the last page. What right do you have to her, Mal, huh? Nikolai is making sense and you’re being an idiot.

What’s your deal Mal? What the fuck do you want?

And why in the hell are you the endgame love interest?

That’s an awful lot of guilt-tripping you’re doing there, Mal. No need to be pissy about it.

Chapter 10

The bones thing is definitelly yikes.

Saints, Mal, are you on your period or something? Alina doesn’t belong to you. Alina can make her own choices. Get a grip.

“You think I’m like the Darkling?” Yes. The Darkling isn’t all bad. You’re at war. No need to get your panties in a twist over a few fingers.

Oh, look, Alina has a cult now, nice.

Chapter 11

Your “dad” is a rapist, Nikolai. Quite possibly a pedo. He got exactly what he deserved.

I’d go for the second option. Especially after that stunt. Jesus, you could have asked her beforehand.

At least Darkles had the decency to make out with her in private.

Also like... why is every single person in this series so far an asshole?

Chapter 12

We meet the King again, unfortunately.

Alina gets Darkles’s old job.

This should be a total disaster, but let’s see where it goes anyway.

Chapter 13

Alina’s nuts, yay.

(I know they have a Force-bond-thingy. I also know they did it before Reylo did.)

Chapter 14

Oh boy, Alina’s not doing as bad as I thought.

For the 100th time in this book, I wish I had Nikolai’s confidence. Though it is getting a bit too much.

Puppy boy is dropping some truth bombs. Nice.

But he doesn’t realize that my boy Darkles has very good reasons to not align with Fjerdans - a) they think he’s a demon and b) they want Grisha dead.

I’m not gonna say she was, but like... the monarchy is very much corrupt.

Oh, boy, Baghra. This one’s gonna go well.

Yep, Baghra’s as pleasant as ever.

So... Baghra’s plan in book 1 really had been to just have Alina run away and hope for the best? Jesus Christ, lady. I’m not saying she deserved to have her eyes taken away, but she is definitelly a trash person and I’m not surprised her son turned out the way he did.

Also, I’m fairly certain that Baghra is literally slowly killing herself - that the reason she looks so old and frail is because she’s started to supress her power and it’s literally killing her, because, you know, she’s bonkers old.

Chapter 15

Nerd Alina > Self-pitying Alina

Also, I’m just saying, Alina comments on Zoya being attractive a whole lot - I get that she’s meant to be insecure, but I’m interpreting it as her being gay, because I need some happiness in my life, okay?

Just kill the sleazy old Rasputin-wanna-be. There’s plenty of them to go around in this series.

Chapter 16

Vasily takes after his father in creep factor.

Why not the Darkling being courted by a horny prince? Be a bit creative.

Chapter 17

Nikolai has big ADHD energy and I love him for it. Fits right in with the heavily autism-coded Fabricators.

*sighs at heteronormativity again*

*sighs at improper gendering of titles*

Date night with Mal. This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?

Chapter 18

Fun night of cultural appropriation, yay.

I hate cultists.

LET. ALINA. GO. FERAL. Please.

You two are going to give me a headache, I swear.

Darkles cockblocking Alina. And Malice threw a tantrum. Nice.

Chapter 19

You’re way too harsh on Genya, Alina.

Horny Alina rights.

They have a laser, now. Cool. Or, well, enormously hot.

Mal is being a drunk a-hole. Great. When does he become likable? Does he ever?

Banter between Mal and Alina? Kinda weird, always somehow comes back to either of them being insecure.

Banter between Alina and Nikolai? I’m all for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a Darklina trash, but like... Nikolai is fun. I could see him and Alina having an arranged political marriage and ending up falling in love years into it, that’s all I’m saying.

Chapter 20

Just let this one go, Alina, please. You two are not working out. Please, end it with him. You’ll both probably be happier. (I’m saying this with the full knowledge that Malina is endgame).

Jesus Alina, get your shit together. You have every right to be mad, because you two didn’t actually break up, you didn’t kiss Nikolai and also, I don’t like Mal.

Sooo... when is Alina going to realize her manchild of a boyfriend is an amplifier?

Chapter 21

Alina has the horny sickness, lol.

Jesus Christ, girl, I don’t want to read your vaguely suicidal thoughts.

Mal, you fucking idiot.

Alina, stop defending Mal.

Chapter 22

Alina has a logical thought? Impossible.

Finally, some action.

Chapter 23

Oh, boi, this is going great.

Oh, boi, Alina’s having another martyr moment.

And, we’re done.

Finally.

That was a ride. Nothing really happens for like ten chapters and then everything happens in one and a half.

[misslilli]

Thank you to the lovelies who are still here ❤️

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 22 - B Is For Basketball

[ DS ]

October has faded into November, pumpkin-spiced latte has been replaced by peppermint mocha and plans for Thanksgiving break have been secured, my mom beside herself with joy that Bill Jr. will be returning from his assignment overseas just in time for the holidays.

At school, we’ve made paper turkeys for our window decorations in school, and slowly, I’m beginning to get into the holiday spirit myself. I stay late on this Friday afternoon to put the finishing touches on the turkeys, cutting out paper candy corn and taping everything to the insides of the windows that line our classroom. ‘Looks pretty good, the kids finally got the hang of cutting paper along the lines neatly.’

I exchange my heels for my gym sneakers after a long day, grab my book bag and head out, locking the door behind me. The eery calm of an empty school building soothes me and I turn out the lights of our hallway. When I look out into the school yard, I notice that someone has left on the lights in our gym and I roll my eyes. That someone might have been me forgetting after my lesson today, so I cross the yard quickly to turn them off before I head home.

When I enter the gym, though, I freeze at the top of the bleachers. The floor is empty safe for one Fox Mulder, dribbling a basketball and shooting hoops. I know I should just turn around and leave him to it, but I just can’t help watching, slack-jawed, as the muscles of his back ripple under that tight t-shirt. It’s not often that I get to watch him without getting caught, so I allow myself to stare for just a little bit longer, heart hammering in my chest.

I only realize that my hands have gone limp when my keys hit the floor with a deafening crash and I almost jump out of my skin. ‘Run! Move! Now!’ My legs are not cooperating, damn them, and I see to my horror that he whips around and spots me standing on top of the bleacher’s stairs.

“Jesus, Scully! You trying to kill me?” ‘Those damn forearms of yours are what’s killing me…’

His surprised expression morphs into a smile. “Skinner said it’s okay if I used the gym for practice in the winter. What are you still doing here?”

“Uh... I was hanging turkeys … and I noticed the light on … and I thought that I had left them on after my lesson … and yeah…” ‘Stop rambling, you idiot!’

Now he’s grinning even wider and I can tell he’s going to tease me mercilessly. In my head, I start a list of ‘10 things I hate about you.’

“Didn’t know you hang your own turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, Scully, that’s pretty badass of you!” ‘I want to smack that smirk off your pretty face right now, how’s that for badass?’

I roll my eyes at him and he has the audacity to look incredibly pleased with himself. “Have you ever shot a three-pointer, Scully?” ‘What now?’ I take a moment to contemplate what to say next.

“No. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m only a few inches taller than a yardstick, so I guess I have found more necessary things to do with my time than fail at basketball.”

He jerks his head holding up the basketball. “Get over here, Scully.” The tone in his voice makes my skin tingle.

I’m almost 100 percent sure he thinks I won’t do it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of backing out now, so instead of shooting him down, I walk down the stairs slowly until I’m standing in front of him. I have to tip my head pretty far back to give him a blank look and the eyebrow and smack the basketball out of his hand, sending it bouncing on the floor a few times. Now it’s my turn to smirk at his surprised expression.

Laughing, he goes to pick up the ball and I think of other things I’d like to smack as I get a good look at his backside when he bends down. “Alright sassy lady, you stand here and I’ll try to get around you to the hoop. You need to block me and take the ball from me, okay?”

We move into position and he dribbles the ball a few times. “Okay. Just don’t body-check me!” ‘Oh yes please, body-check me. Tackle me. Wrestle me down to the ground.’

“Body-checking’s for hockey, Scully, so don’t worry!” He moves suddenly, to pass on my right side and I follow, trying to get the ball out from under his hand but he turns and twirls around me and in three long strides, he’s jumping up to the hoop, sinking the ball into it with a satisfying swoosh. Color me impressed.

“You want to try?”

“There was some talk about shooting three-pointers, I think I’ll stick to that for now. Where do I start, here?”

“No, that’s the free throw line. Back there’s the three-point line. Now don’t be nervous, I know for a fact that you can take a shot. Or three…” He looks so pleased with himself at the hint, but it only makes me flash back to Halloween night. Steve. Easy lay.

Shaking the thought from my head, I take the ball he offers to me and bounce it a few times.

‘Oy that’s pretty far away from the hoop, crap. Too late to back out now, Dana.’

I move to stand at the indicated line, holding the ball between my hands and concentrating hard on the hoop, I throw it. The ball sails forward in a pathetically low arc, missing the hoop for miles. If he laughs now, I swear to God, I’ll hang his ass from the backboard.

Thankfully for him, though, he bites back the teasing and instead, moves around me to stand against my back. The hairs at the back of my neck stand up at his proximity. “Come on, I’ll show you.” Reaching his arms around me, his front pressed against my back, he holds the ball in front of my face. ‘He’s too close, damn it! Houston, I have a problem!’

He nudges my foot outward and forward a little with his and I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Legs shoulder width apart.” Next, he takes my wrist, raising my arm to 90 degrees and places my hand underneath the ball. “Spread your fingers and rest the ball on your palm. Only touch it with your fingertips.” I swallow hard around a lump in my throat, nodding. ‘Mayday, mayday!’

My left hand is placed on the side of the ball. “Don’t grip the ball with your left hand. Now you need to bend your knees and jump.” I start to hyperventilate when it dawns on me where exactly my ass will be pressed against when I bend my knees. But his hands leave mine as he steps back and the loss of warmth on my back makes me shiver.

I jump and make my shot and while it’s infinitesimally better than my first shot, I still miss. I groan in frustration, I hate being bad at something.

“I’m just too short, damn it!” ‘If I start to cry now, I’ll hang myself from that backboard.’ Now I’m not only agitated and nervous, now I’m frustrated on top of it all.

He gets the ball back and hands it to me, a thoughtful look on his face and I wonder what he’s up to now. “Hmm… okay, let’s try something else.”

I almost jump out of my skin when his hands grab my waist just below my ribs. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, Scully, I’m giving you height.” I’m feel lightheaded. “Okay, on three you jump and make your shot. 1, 2, 3!” I follow his orders and he lifts me over his head as I shoot for the hoop, my heart going a mile a minute, a faint ringing in my ears.

This is all so perfect and romantic and sexy all at the same time.

No, wait.

It’s too perfect, too romantic, too sexy, too close, too much. too soon. too many unknowns. too scary.

When he lowers me down his front slowly, I stumble forward as I regain some footing under my feet, whipping around and breathing hard. I don’t even hear the swoosh of my money shot.

Only managing to choke out a strangled “I gotta go!” before ripping up the stairs, through the doorway, into the chilly November night.

Leaning my head back against the teacher’s bathroom door, my mind flashes back to the night on Halloween, bits of conversation reverberating in my head. “Not relationship material. Hot teacher. Catholic girl. Golden Retriever. Easy lay.”

I go back in history to all the times I’ve found myself curled into a ball on the floor of my bathroom, my living room, my kitchen, in my bed. Crying so hard that no sounds left my mouth, all the pain in my chest making it hard to breathe.

I knock my head backwards into the door once, frustrated.

I’m just too broken. Damaged goods.

I wait for what feels like hours but is probably just a few minutes before turning off the lights and heading home.

----------

[ FM ]

‘Shit. You overstepped. You made her feel uncomfortable. Unsafe.’ I want to slap my stupid-ass self as I watch the doors close after her. ‘It seemed like she was having fun, what happened? Should I go after her? Does she want me to?’ After a long while I put the basketball where it belongs, turn off the lights and leave the gym in search for her. I have no idea where to look and if she even wants to be found, but the thought of me causing her pain sends me running through the dark school anyway. I stop to listen for sounds several times, but everything’s deadly quiet. I can’t find her.

Shit.

[yungidreamer]

First Bite

Starting at the beginning!

Summary: Seonghwa attends a house party, all part of keeping up appearances as a high ranking duke trying to hide his immortality. She is the the little nobody, there by luck or by fate, and when their paths cross he decides she is his, he just has to convince her of that fact.

Wordcount: 8.2k

Content warnings: Not a ton, kissing, Seonghwa is a bit possessive and supercilious, descriptions of biting and arousal, references to sex but none yet.

 Seonghwa sighed, trapped inside the stiflingly warm, dark carriage as it jostled along the road to the manor. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t like travel. It was all a massive waste of his time. But he had to do it once or twice every few years. Prove he was alive and well, caring for his land, and protecting the people. His somewhat distant lands provided some buffer to his official obligations.

He stayed in one of his fiefdoms for 20 or thirty years, however long he could hide the fact that he didn’t age, then left the land to a caretaker while he moved to his second, repeating the process when he had to or when the situation in one place became intolerable. War, famine, and unrest; they were all inevitable and sometimes he stayed and sometimes he didn’t. It mostly depended on what he could do and what he had to risk. Though he was incredibly deadly with his strength, agility, and speed, his inability to bear sunlight made him a useless soldier. At least these days they didn’t expect lords to go out at the head of their army.

This wasn’t war. This was almost worse. It was a useless social obligation, hours and days of mindless chatter and social interactions. This was going to be hell, but it had to be done. He had to be one of them occasionally, had to play the role, play the part he was obligated to be by society. At the first chance, he was going to leave and go back home. Thankfully most of the people who would be at the function were degenerates who slept the day away and loved to party all night, so at least his schedule wouldn’t make him stick out all that much. And food would be plentiful as the chaperones were always eager for a little trist with a lord after their charges went to bed.

Seonghwa sighed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, wishing he could sleep to pass the time. At least he could just let his mind wander to more pleasant things.

The halls were still relatively quiet in the manor. It was morning and the guests who were already there were mostly still abed and probably desperately hung over. She tiptoed down the hall to the library, having snuck out while her shared chaperone and her fellow charge were sleeping the day away. She needed another book to read, something to break the mind numbing boredom of the chatter in the ladies rooms. The sewing and knitting and the like didn’t bother her, she in fact, enjoyed them. It was the hours of meaningless chatter that killed her.

Nothing could make her care about the latest gossip about who had done the latest scandalous thing; like dropping their napkin at the last dinner or who forgot to use a properly sized parasol while taking a turn in the gardens. She didn’t care who had done what and, thankfully, it was never about her. Being barely in the class that allowed her to be here and having no relations who were of much more import, no one cared what she did so long as she never stepped outside of her station. Never presumed to be more than she was supposed to be. And that suited her just fine.

Slipping in amongst the tall wooden shelves, she searched for the section she had discovered on her last trip, determined to pick up the book she had been thinking of since she spotted it on the shelf on her last trip.

“Where was it, where was it,” she muttered to herself. “I know it was somewhere around here.”

“What were you looking for?” A voice drifted in from behind her, startling her. Spinning on her heels she turned to find a man behind her, a stranger who must have joined the party sometime after she had retired to her room the night before. What was he doing here in the dim library? No one was ever up at this hour aside from the servant.

She paused, taking in the figure that seemed to have appeared from the ether to loom behind her. He was tall and slim and impeccably dressed in something a few years out of fashion. Given the perfect state of his clothes and the ornate trim and frippery, she guessed it was a personal preference rather than old clothes he was simply making do with. His hair was dark and glossy, not powdered or covered in a wig, as was currently fashionable. From what she could see in the dim corridor of the shelves, he was pale and in possession of beautiful angular features that fit his oval face perfectly. The expression on his face had the sort of effortless disdain that only an aristocrat could manage.

“Just a book,” she curtsied, knowing her place and what was expected of her in the presence of such people. “I didn’t realize anyone was here. I apologize for the intrusion.” She bobbed again as she backed away, looking to escape, knowing how many things could go wrong in her position if she was found alone with someone like him.

“Wait,” his voice was soft but held a command to it, something that said he was used to being heard and obeyed. She froze, raising only her eyes as she waited for whatever he would ask of her. “What book?”

“The City of Ladies,” she replied softly, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“Come,” He said, turning and going back down the aisle. Falling into step behind him, they moved to the next row of shelves. He went in a few steps before turning to one side and running his finger along the spines of the books on one side until he found what he was looking for. Pulling a small leather bound volume off the shelf, he turned it in his hand to double check the cover, then handed it to her.

Blinking, she looked at what he had handed her. Pressed into the cover of the book in Old English typeface was The City of Ladies by Christine de Pisan. How had he known where this was, she wondered to herself.

“Is that not what you were looking for?” He asked, when she merely looked at the book in her hand with no response.

“Oh yes, it is,” she nodded, pulling herself together. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to your business.” Without another word, she turned and made her way back out of the library as quickly as she could without looking back.

The day had passed quickly and the incident in the library seemed to have gone unremarked upon by anyone else. He probably didn’t mention it to anyone, she told herself, feeling a sense of relief at the thought. She probably wasn’t worth the breath to him and had been dismissed from his mind the moment she had closed the library door behind her.

Sitting in front of the small vanity in the corner of her room, she looked at herself in the mirror, lit by the single flickering taper she had on the tabletop. Her nimble fingers pinned the last errant curls up on her head before picking up the furry puff from the ceramic canister and giving her hair a light dusting of powder. She pulled the towel from her shoulders and shook it out the window to get rid of the dust it had caught. Giving herself one last glance in the reflection to check for anything out of place, she blew out the candle and headed out of her closet sized room to join her chaperone and the other charge to head to dinner.

The older woman, paid by both of their families to watch over their unmarried daughters as they attended the house party, was gushing over Emma, the other girl who was her charge, as she dressed and prepared for the meal. They were both there ostensibly in search of suitable partners of the right class also in attendance at the party, but she was smart enough not to hold such illusions. Unlike the girl being properly pampered and prepared, she knew she was there mostly to pass the time and fulfill her social obligations as a spare girl to fill out the gender balance. For most everyone else there, the coming hours were the highlight of the day, the thing they most looked forward to. For her, it vied for the dullest. But alas, her attendance was required.

Taking a seat off toward the side, she waited patiently as they put the last details on the other girls outfit. A diamond comb was tucked into the curls on one side and a string of pearls were tied around her neck. Their chaperone gave her hair a few last pokes before having the girl stand so she could brush out the last crimps in her skirt. She was her best hope at landing a sizable reward for landing one of them a good partner. It was only logical that she would pour her attention into Emma.

“Alright, let’s go,” Mrs. Collins said motioning at her as she took Emma’s arm to walk the other girl to the dining room. She happily stood up and followed them as they made their way through the long halls to the dining room. At least dinner would only last so long tonight, she thought to herself. There would be a small ball tonight after dinner where people could drink and dance and mingle well into the wee hours of the morning if they wished. She, very likely, wouldn’t. Instead finding a good time to bow out, go back to her room, and read in the privacy of her little closet until she fell asleep.

Servants at the doors to the dining room bowed as the ladies passed, going to find their seats for the evening along the long, wide table that stretched the whole length of the large dining room. It was a classic room, decorated in a late baroque style that gave the room a heavy, dignified feel. The curved ceiling, covered in vivid scenes of figures, fruits, and plants made from plaster moldings that glinted with gilded accents. Busts filled oval frames above the doors and some windows that always made her feel like she was being watched and judged by people long since dead. Do you really think you belong here, they seemed to ask. Don’t worry, she always assured them silently, I won’t be here that long.

Taking her seat, she placed her napkin in her lap, letting her eyes look at the sparkling setting on the table before her. It was a safe place to look and didn’t invite nosy questions on inane conversations. There would be enough of that once everyone was seated and eating. Reverend Norwich would be seated to her right and would want to ask her if she had read her bible that morning. To her left would be Edward Johnson Esquire who wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes from dropping the cleavage of the women on that end of the table, more so with each sip of wine. At least it would only be a couple of hours.

Reverend Norwich arrived, taking his seat and giving her a bob of his head, which she returned. Thankfully, he turned his attention to the woman on the other side of him first, giving her just another moment of respite. All too soon, though Mr. Johnson arrived and, with no one to the other side of him, his attention was quickly turned on her.

“You look lovely this evening,” he told her, leaning a little too close as he spoke.

“Thank you,” she replied, giving him an obligatory smile that never quite reached her eyes.

“The dress, is it new?” Mr. Johnson asked, his eyes lingering on her neckline.

“No,” she shook her head, adjusting the gauzy fichu she was ever so glad she had worn this evening. “I wore it the first evening here, but I believe you hadn’t arrived yet.”

“It’s very, very pretty,” he stated with a small nod. “The pink looks lovely against your skin.”

“I want this seat,” said a surprisingly familiar voice from behind them.

“Pardon?” Mr. Johnson said, turning in his seat to look at the interloper who was interrupting their conversation. There he stood, the man from the library, and for the life of her, she had no idea why.

“I said,” he repeated in clipped tones. “I would like this seat.”

“Your Grace,” the hostess, the Marchioness of Umberland, drew close, her voice slightly breathless from her hurry to join them. “Your seat is next to mine, near the center as our guest of honor.”

“Lady Umberland,” the man greeted, taking her hand and giving it a light brush of his lips. “Forgive me, but I would like to choose my own seat this evening.”

“But, the seats…” her voice trailed off and her eyes flicked over the three of them for a second before pursing her lips. “Right, please follow me, Mr. Johnson.” The man stood up, following the hostess to the other side of the table while she reworked the seating to keep the gender integration and the ranks of those seated… appropriate.

Seonghwa took his seat beside her, scooting his chair in before waving at a passing servant to get him a new napkin as Mr. Johnson, in his rush to vacate said spot, had taken his with him to his new seat. Having received the acknowledgement from the man, he turned his attentions to the rather flustered woman beside him.

“Are you enjoying the book?” He asked her, fixing his dark eyes on her profile.

“Pardon?” She finally turned to look at him with wide almost startled eyes.

“The book you borrowed from the library this morning,” he pressed. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes,” she responded tentatively. “I haven’t gotten far, but I do like what I have been able to read of it.”

“Good,” he gave her a small nod. “It’s been a while since I read it, but I remember finding it interesting.”

“You read it?” Unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, she continued to stare at him.

“Reading fills the time and I do rather enjoy it,” the corner of his mouth twitched, almost hinting at a smile.

“Reading takes me to the world I cannot see myself,” she replied, turning to look back at her place setting.

“Is it your dream to travel, to see the world?” He watched, waiting for her reply.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “There are things I would love to see, but I suppose I want to understand the world most of all.”

“Intelligence is as much the ideal foundation for a conversation as it is for a city of ladies,” Seonghwa said, returning to reference the book he had located for her.

“I’m not sure many share that opinion.” A rueful smile tugged at her lips. She set her chin to a haughty angle before parroting just a few of the things she had heard since she had arrived at the party. “No man wants a woman whose mind is outside the home… An educated woman makes a terrible wife; she is never satisfied and always argues, thinking she knows so much more than her husband… What is the use in a woman who can do more than read the Bible and calculate basic household finances?”

“Amen,” said the Reverend from the other side of her, having caught the last few sentences she had spoken but not the context. “A woman who is educated beyond the role that God has given her, is destined to misery and constantly reaching beyond what she is destined for.”

“I could not possibly disagree more,” Seonghwa sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Why would any man wish to tie himself to someone who is barely capable of holding a conversation? And if she is to be the mother of one’s children; to nurture and raise them, would you not want a woman who could educate and cultivate brilliant children?”

“Perhaps it is different at your station, Your Grace,” the Reverend allowed, giving a deferential bow. “But it is the fate of most women to live simple lives and those who dream of the world beyond that will find only disappointment.”

“A simple life need not be in contradiction to one of curiosity,” Seonghwa couldn’t help but retort. The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the soup course as a small army of servants placed low, shallow bowls on the charger plates in front of them which was then filled with a ladle of clear brown broth.

The conversation of the room dulled slightly, replaced by periodic tinking noises as spoons made contact with the fine china. She picked up her bouillon spoon, bringing the soup to her lips, hoping that the contentious conversation was done between her two dinner companions. Much as she was enjoying seeing the reverend taken down a peg, she couldn’t help but feel like a rag being pulled between two dogs as they competed for possession of it.

“Why did you come to the party?” Seonghwa asked from beside her, having finished his soup and laid his spoon in the now empty bowl, ready to be taken away.

“The usual reasons, I suppose,” she set down her spoon, having finished enough to satisfy her. “To pass the time and, my father hopes at least, to meet a potential husband.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how forward it sounded, as if she were dangling herself as a prospect for him. “I didn’t mean… I myself don’t think the prospects are terribly promising for me.”

“No one suitable or you aren’t finding yourself much in demand in that category?” He asked as the wave of servants returned, taking the bowls and replacing them with dinner plates.

“Perhaps both, perhaps for the same reasons,” she admitted. “None of those in attendance find me appealing and the sentiment is mutual.”

“Taste, or lack thereof, cannot be accounted for,” he commented enigmatically. Their conversation continued through the courses as they came and went, mostly consisting of him asking her something and her replying. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious about him, but she didn’t know if it was really her place to pry. Given the gap in their stations, she couldn’t be sure of his reaction if she did.

When the meal was finally over, Lady Umberland stood up calling everyone’s attention to her as she asked them all to find their escorts and make their way to the ballroom. She started walking towards Seonghwa, expecting him, as the highest ranking male visitor to the party, to escort her. Seonghwa however turned away when he saw her moving toward him, taking the arm of the woman he had sat beside for dinner. Lady Umberland quickly sought out the second highest ranked man and headed down the hall, leading the way to the ballroom.

The guests quickly broke apart, moving into groups of milling, chatting people as they waited for the music to start. Seonghwa took her off to one side of the ballroom, finding an empty seat for her and taking a relaxed stance beside it. She could feel the eyes of others from around the room landing on them with a questioning intensity. The attention was cloying and she wondered how long it would be before she could escape.

“Would you like to dance?” Seonghwa asked as the quartet began to play the first song.

“I… if you would like,” she agreed, coming to her feet. Taking her hand, he led her out onto the open floor, not yet filled with any other couples. In time with the music they moved through the steps of a minuet. It gave him an excuse to hold her hand as they swayed and dipped in time with the music. Her hand was warm and soft and he couldn’t help but imagine what her skin would feel like under his lips.

All too soon, the music stopped and Seonghwa had to release her hand and give her a bow. She returned it and quickly made her way back to her seat, almost hoping he wouldn’t follow when she caught sight of her chaperone standing near it, her eyes boring into both of them as they returned.

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Collins bobbed, giving him a quick obligatory bow. “I came to take my lovely charge off your hands. You have been so kind to give her your attention this evening, but I am certain there are many others you wish to see this evening. We can leave you to that. Come along, young lady.”

“I am perfectly happy with the company I have,” he said, stopping her as she stood up from her seat to follow her chaperone.

“Pardon, Your Grace,” Mrs. Collins tried to sound diplomatic. “But I cannot allow you to monopolize my charge when you patently have no intentions of consequence for her.”

“Frankly, madam, you have no idea of my intentions,” Seonghwa replied flatly.

“You can’t possibly be entertaining the notion of courting her,” the woman gave a dismissive chuckle. “She’s the daughter of a barrister.”

“I have intended on doing so since I first laid eyes on her,” he stated. “My conversation with her over dinner simply served to confirm my first instincts.”

“Pardon?” The older woman sputtered.

“I thought I might wait to ask her in a more private setting,” Seonghwa took a step closer to her and put his hand on the back of her chair possessively. “But I suppose I can make my intentions clear here.” He came around to face her, going to his knee in front of her as she sat frozen in her chair. “Consent to be mine and you will never want for anything. You don’t have to say yes now, just say that you will consider my offer and you can retire for the evening.” She nodded silently, satisfying Seonghwa who then said quietly, leaning closer, “If you wish to speak about this tomorrow, you know where to find me.”

With that, he stood up, stepped back and gave her a little bow. Taking the opportunity he offered, she gave him a curtsy and quickly made her way back to her room with her chaperone following behind.

“What did you say to him,” the woman asked in a harsh whisper as she closed the door to the main room. “How did you even meet him? Have you met him before?”

“Not before coming here,” she replied, taking a seat at her vanity in her small room. “It was pure chance that we crossed paths.”

“I dare say your father will be pleased with this if you can actually land him,” Mrs. Collins sighed. “I have to go back so I’ll lock the door behind me. I’ll only say this; if you choose to pursue this and it ends in ruin it won’t be on me. A scandal would not touch a man of his station but it will be all you are remembered for. It is your risk and your reward to seek.”

With that she was left alone to contemplate how her life had so quickly, in a mere course of hours, been turned upside down.

Seonghwa retired to the library after the party, sitting himself down in front of a pile of papers related to his estate as he tried to pass the hours of the early morning. Waiting. Surely she would come. Surely she felt that same magnetic pull as he. When his manservant arrived to check on him that morning, he had tasked him with obtaining a marriage licence from the local church or magistrate, whoever could procure it most readily and most expeditiously. The man had uncharacteristically let a flash of surprise cross his face for a moment before suppressing it beneath his usual mask of neutrality. He simply nodded and ventured out to do as he was bid.

It was not until well after the noon hour that he heard the soft click of the library door unlatching and then being softly closed again that she finally arrived, drawing him from his work. He knew it was her by the soft sound of her footsteps and the almost timid entrance into the space. Anyone else who would have come would have behaved as if they owned the place, or at the very least, like they were sure of their place there; they knew they belonged.

He hurried to stand, walking quickly to meet her as she crept in the dimly lit room. He met her as she paused near the last set of shelves by the doorway before the room opened up. Her eyes met his as he came near and he could practically feel the tension roll off her in waves.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her to the seats arranged comfortably around the unlit hearth. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you,” she agreed, taking a seat in a broad square velvet and wood chair to one side. “I believe we have a little to discuss.”

“Yes,” he agreed, taking a seat in the chair nearest to her. “We do.”

“Do you mind if I ask you… why?” She ventured nervously.

“Why what,” Seonghwa cocked his head to the side as he looked at her.

“Why me? Why all of a sudden you decided… I’m not even sure what,” she trailed off.

“It’s simple,” he stated, leaning forward. “I want you; I find you fascinating. You were meant to be mine and I see no point in dancing around that conclusion.”

“But, why?” she pressed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Do you not feel the same?” He asked, the first hint of doubt entering his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I know nothing about you and I would have not have dared to dream that you would be interested in me. Men like you don’t take note of women like me.”

“There are… few men like me,” he replied.

“And women like me are rather common,” she softly challenged.

“You are not common,” He shook his head. “ You are fascinating. The fact that others have overlooked it only speaks to their idiocy, not your quality.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” her chest felt inexplicably tight.

“Give me just a little of your time to convince you,” Seonghwa proposed. “If you don’t want to sign the marriage licence when it has been procured, I will leave you alone. But give me a chance.”

“Alright,” she agreed, standing up and smoothing her skirt. Seonghwa stood as well, taking advantage of the moment to step forward and draw her into a kiss. She froze as his lips brushed over hers, slightly dry and cool as they pressed against hers. It went unnoticed that no breath caressed her cheek as he held her face between his hands, gently savoring her lips. He smelled faintly of sandalwood, paper, and ink. Her eyes drifted closed, softening under his touch.

She felt so alive under his touch; so warm, so vivid. Touching her was like facing the embodiment of every temptation he had ever faced. He could hear the faint stutter of her heart at his touch like a trapped bird fluttering in its cage. So delicate, so fragile… so tempting. He wanted to crush her to him, to hold her close. Her warmth was a delicate flickering flame that he was torn between wanting to protect it and wanting to curl his chilled hands around to the point of nearly suffocating it’s light as he tried to absorb as much of the radiant heat as he could.

“Will you have tea with me this afternoon?” He asked, finally managing to pull himself away.

“I-- yes,” she nodded, taking a step back and bringing her hands up to cover her flaming cheeks. “I believe you can send for me and Mrs. Collins at the appropriate hour.” She turned quickly and made her way out of the library while she could, a frisson of nerves tickling the back of her neck.

He spent the next three days by her side at every opportunity while he courted and coaxed her into letting him into her mind and heart. They took tea together in the afternoons under the somewhat distant but watchful eye of her chaperone. In the evenings he sat with her during dinner, discouraging any of the other men in attendance from socializing with her as he stayed, hovering over her, even when they were not speaking. He was just there, always.

On the evening of the third day, her father, having been summoned by a very distressed Mrs. Collins, arrived half expecting to find his daughter ruined or the whole of the house party in shambles. Rather he found the house, perhaps tense, but otherwise unremarkable. When he located his daughter he was somewhat flummoxed by the sight of a very well dressed and handsome man hovering silently beside her. He decided it must be the man who had caused the uproar but how someone who seemed as cold and staid as a marble statue could have done so baffled him.

With his presence, at the moment, unnoticed he waited and watched. His daughter seemed perfectly at ease in his presence and the others in the room looked at them with an occasional curiosity or perhaps envy, but little else. After a long few moments, she turned to address the man and for the first time there seemed to be a warmth to him as he leaned in and spoke to her quietly. A faint smile emerged at the corner of his lips and a warmth and attentiveness burned behind his eyes.

Deciding he had seen enough, he stepped into the room, making himself known to the occupants including his daughter. He couldn’t help but think how much she resembled her mother as her eyes landed on him and she grinned as she stood up to greet him, her feet carrying her to him with an effortless elegance.

“Papa, what are you doing here?” She asked as he drew her into a warm hug.

“Mrs. Collins insisted I come here myself and sort out whatever was going on,” her father replied. “Though I must confess I am not sure what exactly that is.”

“She was right to ask you to come but I believe she may have made things sound much more dire than they are,” she laughed, looking over her shoulder to where the mysterious figure was waiting. Upon seeing her turn towards him, the man stepped closer, coming up alongside her. “It seems that I might be engaged.”

“That is good news, my dear,” he assured her, taking her hands while giving the man beside her another assessing look. “So long as it is to someone who would make you happy.”

“I would like to introduce myself properly sir,” Seonghwa said from beside her. “Perhaps we ought to speak privately for a moment.” Her father nodded at the offer, motioning for him to lead the way to wherever he thought best. Seonghwa turned and led the way out of the main room and into a small side study, taking a seat in one of the plush armchairs and crossing his legs. Her father followed suit, taking the chair opposite, un intentionally mirroring the younger man’s stance.

“I’ve decided I am going to marry your daughter,” Seonghwa stated in such a perfectly matter of fact manner that her father could not help but blink blankly in response before clearing his throat to respond.

“I believe it would be customary to ask permission to do so,” her father returned, feeling a bit prickly at his surety.

“I did,” Seonghwa stated simply. “I asked her.”

Her father was again left blinking. In theory he actually liked that answer as he did believe it was up to his daughter who she would marry. He wanted her to be happy and very much believed in her and trusted her judgement. Still, something about the haughty certitude of the man irked him somehow. Yes the man outranked him, yes he agreed with his assertion in theory, but could he not at least pretend to want his approval?

“While I am glad that you have made her opinion in the matter of such priority,” her father granted. “I would be remiss if I did not seek to ensure that your intentions toward my daughter were good and that you intend to care for her as the treasure that she is in my eyes. I could give her away to no one who would care for her with less devotion than I do.”

“She will never want for anything,” Seonghwa replied. “Every comfort of life will be hers. I can promise that any intellectual pursuit that catches her fancy she will have the means to pursue. I would not seek to put her into a box that demands she is anyone but who she wishes to be.”

“Do you love her?” Her father asked bluntly.

“Love is a complicated word,” Seonghwa waved away the world dismissively. “And love fades like a picked bloom. I would not reduce my feelings for her to something so trivial as love. I can promise to be devoted to making her happy for as long as we are both alive.”

“Perhaps I am a strange man,” Her father sighed. “But I have never considered love to be a trivial thing. I would say I love her mother still, though she has now been dead for longer than I had the privilege of having her as my helpmate and companion.”

“You are fortunate to have had such a love that lasted so long,” he commented.

“Pardon me for saying so,” her father couldn’t help but observe. “You seem quite young to be so jaded.”

“I am, perhaps older than I look and have long been accused of acting older than my years,” Seonghwa laughed wryly. “Just think of me as an old soul.”

“Whatever word you choose to put to it,” her father steepled his fingers and touched them to his chin. “If you can promise that you will do whatever is in your power to make my girl happy, I suppose I can give you my blessing.”

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up. “I know having your blessing would be a relief to her. I believe the marriage license will be available to be signed tomorrow.”

“So soon?” His eyebrows shot up at the news. “Is it really necessary to rush so? No wedding? No vows in a church.”

“I am not fond of churches,” he explained without really explaining anything at all. “But I would not object to a small ceremony here, perhaps tomorrow evening.”

“Not to repeat myself but, so soon?” Her father asked, his chest feeling slightly hollow. “I won’t even have time to get her a dress or gather her trousseau.”

“She needs nothing more than the clothes she has brought with her as far as I am concerned,” Seonghwa shrugged. “I will provide her with clothes that befit her new station. You can send any of her belongings she will want to my residence. I can provide anything she needs, but I cannot replace things of sentimental value.”

“I will send them along when I return home,” her father swallowed past a lump in his throat. “I do hope you won’t object to an occasional visit by her old father now and again.”

“You are welcome to visit our home,” Seonghwa said simply.

“Thank you,” her father bobbed as he also stood. “I am relieved to hear that, if I am honest.”

“You can come soon and assure yourself that your daughter is well,” Seonghwa offered in a tone that might be mistaken for kind as he opened the door to the main room, allowing her father to exit first before he closed the door behind them.

They found her waiting for them, keeping busy with her nose buried in a book, though she had clearly been keeping half an eye on the door, waiting for them to emerge. When she saw them step out, she closed the book on her lap and stood up, looking at them expectantly. Her father came to her, a smile on his face as he took her hands in his.

“Congratulations my beautiful girl,” he pulled her into a hug. “I shall miss having you at home to stop me from letting my work keep me up too late.”

“Maybe you will have to find a new wife who will make sure you will take care of yourself,” she suggested, only half joking.

“Perhaps,” he chuckled. “Or I can just listen to the spirit of your mother nagging at me and do as I know she would have told me to.”

“Mmm, so long as you actually listen,” she scolded lovingly.

“I will, I will,” he promised. “Would you perhaps have a private dinner with me this evening? One last meal, just the two of us.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I’ll go tell the kitchen that we will take our portions in your room, if that is alright.”

“Excellent,” he nodded. “I believe I will go now and wash the road off me before then. Give me an hour and then please join me.”

“Alright,” she replied, watching as her father straightened his jacket and headed out to ask after his room.

“Just one thing,” Seonghwa caught her arm as she started to go to find a servant to send word to the kitchen. “When you are done with dinner, come to my room. There is something I wish to discuss with you tonight, alone.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and he let her go, heading out of the surprisingly busy library to see to dinner.

It was late by the time she left her father, but most of the guests of the houseparty were still busy with dinner and the after meal socializing so there was no one in the halls to take note of her sneaking to Seonghwa’s room. She knocked lightly on the door, still half unsure if she really should have come. But, now with her father’s blessing, it seemed more certain than ever that she would actually become the Duchess of Harrington tomorrow. Seonghwa answered the door quickly, indicating that he had been eagerly awaiting her arrival. He shepherded her inside, closing the door firmly before he pulled her into his arms and taking her lips in a hungry kiss. He had been starving for the taste of her ever since that first kiss in the library, her taste and warmth teasing him with the mere memory.

After a moment he forced himself to pull back. He had to tell her tonight, give her the chance to back out now or decide to go forward, knowing what he was. With a strength and determination he had not been sure he had in him, he stepped away from her, leaving her blushing and dazed in the wake of his passion. She looked tempting and delicious standing there in his rooms, ready for the taking.

“I don’t mean to sound as though I object to this,” she said, touching her lips at the lingering sensation of the kiss, “But if this is why you asked me to come, I think it is best if we wait until tomorrow to do anything more.”

“It isn’t,” he admitted, shifting on his feet. If he could have blushed, he would have. “I want you to understand what it means to bind yourself to me. I want to know that you are choosing this life with me freely and with a full understanding.”

“If you are wondering if I intend to try and abstain from what I understand to be my wifely duties,” her eyes flicked to the tall, damask draped four-poster bed on the far side of the room. “I do not, but I would still ask to wait one more day.”

“I am comforted to know that, given how short a time we have known one another,” he said with a calm formality that did not match the lustful turmoil inside him. “I have a… special requirement of my wife.”

“If it’s about having an heir,” she tried to reason out what he must be trying to get at. “I have no reason to believe I would not be capable of providing you with one. I know that it is vital for men of title.”

“I cannot have children,” Seonghwa replied plainly.

“How…” her brow crinkled as she looked at him. “How do you know?”

“For the same reason that I have a special requirement that I would ask of you as my companion,” he stepped forward and took one of her hands and placed it on his chest. “Those who are like me are simply incapable of producing new life. Is it important to you to have children of your own?”

“To be honest,” she gave him a self effacing smile. “I had expected to never marry which means I long ago accepted the idea that I would never have a child. I remember losing my mother when she had my brother who followed her not long after she passed. It could perhaps be a blessing not to risk such a thing, though I am still not sure how you know that you cannot have children.”

“Should I show you what I would ask of you?” He questioned, taking half a step towards her.

“I suppose that is the simplest way for me to understand,” she agreed, nerves tingling with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

“Come here,” he reached for her, taking her to stand in front of the unlit hearth. Two candelabras sat on either end, providing the room with flickering light from their tapers. Behind them, in a frame on the wall was a glinting mirror. Seonghwa positioned her to stand facing herself in the reflection and stood behind her, his dark eyes locking with hers as he put his hands on her shoulders. His fingers gently pulled the gauzy fabric of her fichu from where it was tucked in at her neckline, tossing it away and onto a nearby chair. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something but seemingly thought better of it, instead biting her lip as she continued to watch him in the reflection.

“My precious, do you trust me?” He asked as he brushed the hair away from the side of her neck.

“Yes,” she replied. She couldn’t have told you why, but she did trust him.

“This might sting at first,” he instructed gently as he pulled her back towards him and leaned closer to her, breaking eye contact as he looked at the soft flesh of her neck. “But don’t pull away. I promise it will feel good.”

She didn’t reply or even nod, instead, simply allowed him to tilt her head to the side as she watched, almost as if she were seeing it done to someone else in that reflection. Seonghwa kissed the side of her neck with his cool, slightly dry lips, feeling the gushing pulse of her blood just below the soft veil of her skin. Her scent wafted off her, carried by the very vital heat of her body out to tease his nose. He knew she would taste sweet to him, like the finest candy. All human blood tasted delicious and was satisfying as it coated his mouth each time he fed. It was the only thing that truly held taste for him like this and each person tasted different, tasted like them. They carried the hint of what they ate and anything else they put in or on their bodies, which naturally made some more tempting and delicious than others, but they still tasted mostly of whatever their innate flavor was, He could smell someone and know largely how they would taste, the good and the bad; and she smelled good.

His tongue darted out, getting some small first taste. He had spent so much of the day with her, waiting for her, or mired in thoughts about her, he hadn’t yet taken the time to feed. The borrowed warmth and life he took with each feeding had diminished and the thought of getting it from her excited him. Opening his mouth, he set his teeth on her skin and looked up to meet her eyes which had gone slightly wide as she watched him… and still she did not pull away. Snaking one arm across her chest to hold her to him, he bit down, his fangs sinking into her neck with a fluid ease.

She stiffened and let out a small gasp at the sensation, the flash of pain. But almost as soon as she felt it, the pain vanished and was replaced by a strangely insistent pleasure that seemed to flow through her as if it could replace the blood he took. Her heart fluttered under his hand and her body ached for something, she knew not what.

As Seonghwa fed, watching as pleasure bloomed on her face like the evening primrose at dusk. Her gasp became a breathy moan as she leaned into him, giving herself over to him and the pleasure he bestowed upon her. She tasted as good as he had thought she would, perhaps better, and it took immense resolve to pull himself back when he had eaten enough. With a gentle brush of his tongue, the wounds closed, leaving only two small pink marks in their place. They would surely go unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon.

Her legs felt weak and she couldn’t help but sag in his arms as the pleasure faded, leaving her fuzzy headed and slightly dazed. Lifting her into his arms, he sat down in the large, old armchair, cradling her in his lap. He held her, murmuring to her softly as the feelings faded, leaving her mostly tired and slightly confused.

“What are you?” She finally asked.

“Vampire,” he whispered, as if the lower volume might make the word less threatening to hear.

“I didn’t think they were real,” she said back, continuing to let her head rest on his shoulder.

“Not everything they say is true,” He answered, giving her comforting pats and strokes.

“What is, then?” She asked, letting her head remain resting on his shoulder.

“I can see in near total darkness,” he began. “I am stronger and faster than I was before, long ago. I seem to be cursed to live forever like this and can quickly heal nearly any injury so long as my body is largely intact and my heart is not pierced by wood or silver. I cannot go in the sun or even the direct reflection of its light.”

“Does a bite feel as good for you as it does for those you bite?” Her question was honest, holding only the faintest hint of embarrassment at the half hidden admission.

“I only remember the feel of it from your side once and it is different,” he considered, thinking back to what he remembered of it. “But feeding from you gives me great pleasure if that is what you are wondering.”

“Then does that replace lying with me for you?” She sat up straighter, wanting to look at him as she asked. “Is that why you can’t have children?”

“No,” he smiled as he took one of her hands and gently guided it to rest on his very ready erection under the layers of his clothing. “I am quite capable of that as well, but we will save that for tomorrow… if you will still come.”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Then for tonight, give me one more kiss and then I will let you go on your way.” He reached for her, turning her face to his with his now warm hands cupping her soft cheeks. Her lips parted under his touch and she allowed his tongue to venture in to dance with hers. The faint tang of iron teased her taste buds as he kissed her and the brief thought that it was the taste of herself fluttered through her mind as inconsequentially as a fall leaf caught in a fall gust.

Breaking the kiss, Seonghwa stood them both up, giving her some small distance before taking her hand and guiding her to the door. He brushed a hand over her cheek, letting it trail down over the side of her neck where he had bitten it.

“Tomorrow I will make you mine for all the world to see,” he vowed before letting his hand drop and opening the door to the hall with a quiet click.

“Tomorrow,” she nodded once before stepping into the hall and slipping away before anyone could notice her presence.

Masterlist

[marmolady]

Her Reason

Main Pairings: Shamir x Catherine

Summary: In the wake of Lady Rhea's death, a lost and grief-stricken Catherine frets after Shamir.

Word Count: 2542

Warnings: Grief and loss. Also, I haven't written FE3H before, so don't expect a masterpiece.

*throws at @greengroove and runs away, hiding face*

____________________

The rainstorm that had rolled in further shrouded Garreg Mach in gloom. The downpour came as if to wash away what had been, whether those left behind were ready for that change or not. A sombre atmosphere hung within the monastery’s ancient walls, and nowhere was it more potent than in the audience chamber; where weeping prayers in hushed voices were magnified in their number. Save for the distinct air of mourning, it could have been a scene from before the war. And… save for the absence of the church’s most prominent figure. Where Lady Rhea once stood, a wall of flowers and wreaths paid her tribute.

Few felt that absence more than the archbishop’s most loyal knight. It had been a long time since Catherine had found herself so aimless… bereft. More years than she’d worry herself to count. No doubt it had been noted by her partner, for it was a long time as well since Catherine had been so quiet.

Shamir’s sadness was different. It wasn’t for Lady Rhea-- a fact that she’d never hidden-- it was for her, Catherine. Just this morning before heading out on the mission, Shamir had referred to Lady Rhea with the proper and respectful honorifics, clearly not out of any reverence for the late archbishop-- no way!-- it had all been about treading carefully with Catherine’s emotions. From someone so stubborn…. Well, Catherine knew a thing or two about stubbornness herself, and she knew that some small, subtle acts against the unyielding grain held a lot of weight. If it weren’t for that weight, Shamir’s lack of sorrow for the passing of Lady Rhea might not have been bearable. It wasn’t fair, Catherine knew that, but it was what it was. At least Shamir was honest. She’d take that over the falseness of some of the nobles in ‘mourning’ any day. On a practical level, it meant that Shamir had been able to step up; proving to be a vital force amongst the knights during this period of transition, while others had been made undeniably vulnerable in the wake of their profound loss. It was no secret that this situation was not to last; Shamir, like Catherine, was at a cross-roads. All either of them knew was that it was a transition they would ride out together.

To be honest, Catherine wasn’t sure why she’d come up here. Perhaps it was just a habit that refused to die; when she was lost, Lady Rhea had the answers. But all she found here now was a dull sense of finality. Her purpose for so many years simply no longer existed.

The sound of the rain suddenly became a roar upon the high-vaulted roof. Catherine had to stop herself from flinching. As much of a hindrance that she might have been, and however much both Alois and Shamir might have protested, she’d rather be in the thick of a mission than waiting behind; not knowing what battles were being fought in her absence… not knowing how her partner was faring. She and Shamir were a team for good reason. It was a rare foe that could best their potent combination of belligerent force and sharp precision. There was no doubt that Shamir was perfectly capable without Catherine-- hell, no one could argue against that prowess with the bow-- but… some things were too important to be gambled. Shamir was too important. In this storm, visibility would be compromised….

“Oh, Catherine--”

“Flayn! I didn’t see you there.” Catherine startled, but recovered masterfully. One would have thought being partnered with Shamir for years would have made her immune to being snuck up on… apparently not. Or, she was really off her game.

“How wonderful to see you! It has been a few days… I do not believe I have even glimpsed your face in the dining hall. Not that I…. Well, it is hard not to struggle with one’s appetite in the wake of….”

As Flayn trailed off, her warm smile became sorrowful, but no less kind and genuine.

“Nah, appetite? I don’t even know what that is anymore. It’s a strange feeling for me. All the fire’s just… fizzled out. It’s as if I don’t even know which way is up.”

That was certainly true. It was the same shock that had been so staggering when Lady Rhea had disappeared all those years ago, but the glimmer of hope that driven the fight was now extinguished. And after tasting the sweet relief of finding her alive and-- not well, but alive counted for something, didn’t it?-- but they’d saved her, and then…. It wasn’t just a bitter pill to swallow; it was gutting. Catherine was totally lost. The only thing that made sense anymore, the one thing in all this chaos, was Shamir. How strange that, from the right person, some well-placed snark could court a smile-- even though it be a shaky one. And behind it all, the aloof quietness and the deadpanned jibes, Shamir cared for her. Right now, it made all the difference.

Just get your ass back here safe, partner.

Flayn’s expression was full of concern; no doubt picking up on Catherine’s worry. “If you feel yourself at a loose end, you could do worse than to take the time to care for yourself,” she said gently. “I find a good meal is fine place to start.”

If she could hold anything down…. Actually taking the time to eat a proper meal would, however, kill some time. And maybe she was hungry? Probably just the dread she was feeling, but a bite to eat couldn’t hurt.

The dining hall was bustling; apparently the wild weather had made the lure of a steaming bowl of onion gratin soup simply irresistible. Next to the mournful quiet that permeated the rest of the monastery it was jarring. Well, Catherine had wanted to be distracted.

It was all too easy, though, for the layers of voices to become just an unintelligible roar. The smiling faces grated on Catherine. This was just too normal. It was best she didn’t talk to anyone; just eat her fill and get out of there. She was in no mood for mincing words with anyone who had the nerve to gab away over a meal as if everything hadn’t changed, as if everything wasn’t wrong. These people could take a leaf out of Shamir’s book….

There it was. All of five minutes, and guess who’s on your mind again?

In the wake of Lady Rhea’s passing, it probably only made sense that she was fretting over any possibility that she might lose the other shining light in her life. You could never assume you were going to win any battle, but out of action, Catherine could do nothing except to assume everything was fine. That Shamir was safe. And she couldn’t just do that; the uneasy feeling wasn’t shifting.

She’d just have to deal with it. Thinking about Shamir. All through this wretched storm.

And there was a lot to think about. The proposition that Shamir take Catherine’s hand in marriage had not been forgotten-- not remotely. She cared for her partner deeply, she loved her, and the only future she could see out of this wreckage was the two of them together. There was nothing truly left for Catherine here-- her devotion had not belonged to the church, but for its head--; to disappear with her blunt and prickly Shamir into the sunset was a tantalising lure. But it wasn’t fair. How was Catherine to trust her own judgement when the throes of grief had her on the edge of snapping? That grief-- the price of it-- was not Shamir’s to bear. It would be all too easy to give in to comfort and spare the forethought….

But, a little voice in Catherine’s head stubbornly insisted, you know who you are. You know who you are with her. Any ‘doubt’ is an excuse. You’re just afraid to feel too much; afraid of giving everything and being once again left with a jagged empty space in your heart. Like the one left by Lady Rhea… the one left by Christophe.

If she hadn’t gotten so flustered and just said ‘yes’ then and there, would she be sitting here now? Imagining all that could go wrong on the field of battle in her absence? Perhaps Shamir would have stayed behind with her. Perhaps they’d be huddled together in a quiet corner, sharing a pint… Catherine mourning and Shamir commiserating. And they’d tentatively map out a future. A future different to what Catherine had seen for herself, but not in that they’d be together. That was something she could still believe in. She’d been presented with the perfect opportunity to express her feelings. Why hadn’t she just said ‘yes’?

Soup downed as quickly as possible-- no doubt indigestion would follow-- Catherine made a beeline for the front gates. The sun was going down, the rain slowing; the chances of the mission stretching out any longer than nightfall were slim. Even in a tempest, how long did it take to put down a few wolves, monstrous proportions or not?

As if by clockwork, from out the now-drizzling rain trudged a small group returning from the mission, mud-splattered and --in some cases-- bloodied.

Shamir was not among them.

No, no, no, no no….

Dread hit Catherine like an icy fist to the gut… clenching until she was totally winded. Too roughly, she pulled Byleth aside as they stepped through the heavy doors.

“Where’s Shamir?”

“The group became separated in the downpour--”

Of course it did. Damn it! Not waiting to hear more, Catherine strode off. “Fuck, Byleth! Well, it looks like a nice evening for a walk. I’m going for a bit of… fresh air.”

One hand on Thunderbrand’s hilt, ready to smite whatever creature had lain waste to her partner, Catherine powered on in the direction of the mountainside village the beasts had been threatening. Her angry panting breath caught in her throat, unable to move past the cold, hard lump there.

This was her fault. This was her….

--Thnk--

An arrow whizzed in front of Catherine’s face, finding its mark on a tree at the side of the path and making her skid to a halt.

“Is there a reason you’re striding off alone into the forest?”

And Catherine breathed. There she was, sheltering in the trees… perfectly fine. Safe. Thank the goddess. Thank the fucking-- She ran. She ran and took Shamir in her arms.

The force of the embrace swept Shamir clean off her feet and left her winded. Always nice as it was to see Catherine, this was somewhat excessive. Nevertheless, she hugged back firmly. All this upheaval… to be swept up in the arms of the person she loved most in all the world was admittedly a most wonderful comfort.

“...Anyone would think you’d convinced yourself I’d got killed out there….”

Catherine stepped back, and shifted her weight, sheepish.

Sheepish? Catherine? Oh.

Shamir shook her head in disbelief. Jeez, Catherine was really not okay. “Do you think Byleth would have left me-- would have left anyone-- if the beasts had not already been dispatched?”

“What--? Am I the Byleth-whisperer now? Even they don’t know what’s going on in their head!”

Though admittedly, Catherine realised, Shamir had a fair point. There may have been a smidgeon of unnecessary panicking. What was wrong with her head? It was just the thought of her partner fighting off some slobbering beast alone, compromised by a storm…. If anything had happened because Catherine had been too caught up in grief to be there backing her up….

Shamir brought her numb, wet fingers up to Catherine’s cheek, cradling her there.

“If you need me to remain close, then close is where I’ll stay.”

… then kissed her, slow and deep.

When Shamir pulled back at last, she was met with a dumbstruck expression and without a doubt the fiercest blush she’d ever seen across her partner’s face. Oh, the satisfaction. It was not every day the great Thunder Catherine was rendered speechless. Shamir made a note to remember that trick. Not that she’d ever need an excuse to want to…. It had been a long time coming. Too long.

Catherine swallowed hard. She could feel her mind short-circuiting, but she wouldn’t let it happen this time. Not when that had felt…. She leaned forward, touched her forehead to Shamir’s. It did… feel like coming home. Something joyous, impossibly joyous was rearing up inside her, some swell of certainty and desire and love… a feeling so vast she could not cut it down with even the mightiest swing of Thunderbrand. Why would she even try anyway?-- this was glorious.

“I thought I could always read you…,” Shamir said as her partner seemed to return to her senses, “but I was never quite sure if you understood that I meant it. When I suggested we marry.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” Catherine defended herself, arms raised. Her face still was a glowing red, she could feel it burning. “Trust you to be the one to take me by surprise.”

Shamir held Catherine’s gaze, trying not to get lost in those startling blue eyes, so alight with fire. She had so feared that fire might fizzle and fade. She’d protect that fire, tend it as she would the spark of her own life. She needed Catherine to know that she’d meant it.

“Someday we might lose this,” she said, voice hoarse. “Actually, scratch that ‘might’; we're not naiive. All things end. But for as long as I’m breathing, all I am is yours. We’re in this for the long run…,” A sparkle came to her eye, as she met Catherine’s, an adoring smirk to her lips, “…partner.”

“It’s a relief that you meant it-- it would have been a wickedly cruel trick in light of the fact that I love you.”

“You…?” Shamir’s breath hitched.

“Love you.” Catherine affirmed. “I… love you.” Was it normal for her heart to be beating this hard? It was going wild, as though she was storming recklessly into a battle of impossible odds. She could hear it over the goddamn rain…. But it was nice. Oh, it was nice. “Heh,” she chuckled. “It actually feels pretty good to say it out loud. You should try it sometime.”

The vulnerability behind that dare wasn’t lost. Shamir could almost hear Catherine holding her breath.

“Catherine. I love you.”

Sputtering a breathless laugh, Catherine pulled her partner-- her lover-- into another embrace. Holding her like she’d never let her go. Because there was not a fucking chance in hell she ever would. She had her reason to keep fighting there in her arms.

“We could take a further dive into blatant sentimentality,” she said. “There is a chance I alarmed Byleth enough that they’ll come searching, and see how hard I’m blushing right now. My reputation will be destroyed forever!” She pulled away, painful as it was. It was, though, in aid of something bigger. “Or you could always just… kiss me again.”

The day’s last rays of the sun pushed through the clearing clouds, creating a sparkle on a rain-drenched land.

And Shamir kissed Catherine again.

[a-libra-writes]

Belonging - Stannis Baratheon x Wife!Reader

this is 1000% self indulgent and gift to myself after having an awful time LMAO please enjoy. i love this man so much. excuse the terrible title yall know i think of them absolutely last

Summary: Takes place around the time Robert was crowned, when Stannis and the Reader are married for less than a year. Robert’s drunkenness results in some jealousy and misunderstandings (and making up).

There was one thing she had to admit about the Southerners, at least the ones in King’s Landing: They could certainly throw a party.

Lady Y/N couldn’t count how many she’d been to in the past year, or even the past month. It was just another pastime in King’s Landing, as natural to the highborns as drinking wine and wearing silk. If there was no pressing matter for him to attend to, and if he was bored, King Robert would have a feast.

Hells, he’d throw one even if the city gates were on fire, goblet in one hand and his axe in another. And as an honored sister-in-law, Y/N was invited to every gathering. Naturally the invitation was extended to Stannis, but no one expected her husband to actually attend. When they first married he’d gone for her sake, and for the sake of appearances, but that was no longer needed after nearly a year of being together.

Y/N had mixed feelings about that. She didn’t want Stannis to be miserable and on edge the whole evening, because he would be, but she was willing to admit she missed him. Sitting on the dais in her honored seat, it wouldn’t matter who sat at her left, because her attention would be on Stannis, who always sat to her right. At first it was her expected wifely duty to attend with him. To ensure they both looked as a pair, their houses united for the sake of the king… even if the king and his queen were constantly squabbling. That made Y/N and her husband’s united front even more important.

Stannis didn’t like to shout at her above the feast-goers, so he’d lean in, and she’d do the same until their shoulders pressed together. That small contact used to make him tense, but eventually he relaxed into it, just like they both relaxed into the conversation that would pass. Who was drinking too much, who was attending for the first time in years, when the madness would be over and they could go back to their quarters. Talking to Stannis became easy, and eventually they’d just pick up whatever conversation was left off before the feast. It would be nearly midnight, with revelers laughing and dancing and passing out all around them, and Stannis and Y/N would still be talking back and forth on the dais.

They didn’t just do that, though. She could coax him into a dance, taking his thin hand in her’s and pulling him to his feet. During their firsts feasts together, it was all show. Look at the newlyweds: the humorless brother of the king and his wild Northern bride. They were an act, a sideshow, and Y/N was determined to quiet the snickers and smirks. Stannis tolerated two dances, and he was stiff as a board the entire time, but Y/N was graceful. She could smile and silently guide him through, and soon, they blended in with the rest of the crowd. People stopped gawking when it became clear he wouldn’t stumble and she knew the Southern songs.

He still hated it, but when he saw her looking longingly at dancing pairs, Stannis would stare at her hand before carefully moving his fingers over her’s. Y/N’s excited eyes would meet his, and he’d reflexively squeeze her hand, pleased he could bring that light to her face. He would still only do the minimum amount of dances, but now they moved together, and they stood closer. He didn’t need her guidance to know where his feet should go next. And if the crowd was thinning out and paying more attention to their drinks than the music, he could hear her witty remarks about the guests and give his own.

They left early compared to the other revelers, and especially compared to the king. There would still be laughter and voices echoing off the halls as they disappeared into the vastness of the Red Keep. Y/N would take off her shoes and hold onto his arm, her mind spinning from sleepiness and drink, and Stannis would guide her back to their quarters, which always seemed too far away. Often he’d hold her shoes, once he carried her.

Y/N frowned as she recalled all this. There wouldn’t be any of that tonight - she couldn’t talk to Stannis, or dance with him, or lean on his broad shoulders on the way back. Yes, she had her little friends and acquaintances, but that wasn’t the same. She was startled by how much her heart tugged at her, like it wanted to pull her out of her seat and lead her toward the person she was missing.

My friends wanted me to attend, and I made all this effort on my gown and hair. I ought to stay at least another hour. Y/N had been looking forward to the food and music, but as the minutes passed, all the voices and the stuffiness of the hall began to irk her. She’d been to these parties alone before and hadn’t felt this pitiful. I need to get ahold of myself and have some fun, damn it.

At least King Robert and Queen Cersei had long left the dais, off to do their mingling separately. They stayed apart as much as possible, Y/N observed. She slipped off the dais herself, determined to find someone she knew and get herself a dance. She carefully lifted her black gown, letting the back trail gracefully as she crossed into the crowd. It was one of Y/N’s favorite gowns, a beautifully slimming dress made of chiffon that hugged at her waist. The skirt was long and luxurious, fluttering behind her as she made the smallest movements. In the light, the gold thread that was woven through the black fabric shimmered and gave the effect of her body sparkling.

Y/N only needed modest jewelry and a simple belt of black diamonds and gold to accessorize it; she felt her body and the gown were statement enough. When she walked, she allowed herself to indulge in the power her status brought. Being the sister-in-law of a King, few could approach her directly. She could refuse dances, refuse conversation. Lords could leer, but they couldn’t hope to have her direct attention, and they had to keep a respectful distance. It was a far cry from the feasts from when Y/N was a girl freshly flowered, and her father wouldn’t stop parading her around eligible men, like a slab of fresh lamb on a platter. Those humiliating days were over.

She raised her chin and exuded the confidence she felt. An older woman passed her, then stopped and looked twice. Her eyes brightened with shameless delight. “Lady Y/N! What an honor! Please, would you grace my family with a few words? My daughter would so love to speak to you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, but her face remained steady. She faintly recalled this woman and her house - an old Kingslander family - but she didn’t need to remember names. She just had to say, “Lead the way, my lady,” And the woman practically giggled as she did so.

From there she was bounced from family to family, dancing here and socializing there. Y/N was good with her words, and a few times she ran into a friend that gave her an escape when the conversation became too much. When that gnawing loneliness would bite at her, Y/N would quickly move to another dance partner. It was funny to feel so lonely in the middle of a feast, but here she was, glancing longingly at the open doorways as if he’d actually walk through them.

Once her feet started aching, Y/N felt the need to call it a night. That gnawing in her chest had turned into a bruise that someone wouldn’t stop touching. The pinching shoes were just making it worse. She sat down on a bench to lift her skirt slightly and look at the damage - no blisters yet, but that could change. Y/N glanced around, wondering what time it was. Her first thought was: Is he still awake?

She could just picture Stannis hunched over his desk, muttering irritably over a collection of papers. Or maybe she’d catch him in a calmer mood, reading a book by the hearth or getting ready for bed.

I need to control myself. I doubt he thinks of me as much.

That wasn’t a pleasant thought, so she set it aside. Y/N stood, wincing as the pain shot from her feet to her calves. She’d throw the shoes out as soon as she was back.

Y/N passed a boisterous circle of people on her way to the door, and she knew who caused it. King Robert was sitting on top of a table, loudly singing war songs with the old lords and their sons who had fought for him. Y/N glanced back a moment, watching them with amusement. The King was completely drunk, there was no question of that, but he was full of mirth and life. His blue eyes sparkled as he tipped his drink to a lord that hit a high note, then someone made a jap and everyone laughed again.

He reminded her of one of her brothers, one who was always laughing and didn’t take anything seriously. Y/N understood why men followed the king into battle, and why they liked him now. She understood why others misliked him. Personally, she was unsure if laughter, drink and song were the right recipe for a king.

When she turned away and nearly stepped over the threshold into the dark hall, she heard him. It was impossible not to hear that booming voice. “Y/N! Where are you going, sister? Have you always been here?”

Oh, hells. Y/N turned around and put a smile on her face. It’s not that she had no particular bad feelings toward Robert, he was just so much, and she was tired. He reeked of wine when he approached her, as expected, just as she expected his wild black hair and more practical clothes. Even when he was full of wine, his strength and height were imposing compared to Y/N. She understood how he could kill Rhaegar Targaryen.

“You seem to be having a lovely night, your grace,” Y/N said, planning words for escape. “Everyone is enjoying the feast as much as you are, that is plain to see. It’s all a bit too much for me.”

The smile he returned was also expected. Drunk men were not difficult to flatter. “Glad you made it, Y/N. You know Stannis never wants to bother. Surprised he didn’t keep you from it.”

“Well, he doesn’t dictate what I can or can’t do.”

To Y/N’s confusion, Robert found the comment hilarious and almost spilled his wine as he laughed. “Damned right. My brother always thinks he has the right to order others around.”

She flushed in embarrassment. Y/N hadn’t meant it like that. Rather, she and Stannis were independent. He wasn’t controlling like some husbands could be, and treated her like her own person, besides. Robert drained the last of his wine and tossed the goblet carelessly. It hit a table and rolled off the side.

“We should dance, Y/N. There’s damn good musicians tonight.”

“... If you wish, your grace. I could manage one.”

Damn it all. It was just the thing she wanted to avoid. Y/N hoped he wouldn’t rope her into half a dozen dances; ideally, he’d get bored or nauseous after a while... Or better, a busty serving girl would pass and his attention would be completely taken away.

“You ought to call me Robert!” He insisted as they settled into position. Robert towered over Y/N even more, but he held her loosely in his large hands. “All these damned titles. I think some men already forgot my name.”

“It’s a matter of respect - and they could never forget their king.” Y/N said, but he probably wasn’t listening. Several nobles and courtiers were watching them, and it made her embarrassment all the worse. She tried to keep up with his long steps, and Robert held her closer as he avoided a stumble. She prayed they were all too drunk to remember this, or notice who she was.

At least he was able to avoid crashing into other dancing pairs. The King looked down at Y/N with a puzzled expression. “Where is Stannis, anyway?”

Where do you think he is? Y/N thought, but said, “Attending to his work, I presume.”

“What work? What in the seven hells could he be doing, leaving you here?”

“I’m attending on my own, your grace.” Y/N said patiently. “I’ve hardly been ‘left’. Stannis prefers quiet to crowds, as you know.”

“Don’t I know it. He’s always been strange.” Robert grunted. He was lost in thought for a moment, or perhaps he had a spot of dizziness from the drink. Again, he looked down at her, but Y/N was perplexed by what he could find interesting. She wished the song was over already. This silence was uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Robert said with a laugh, “Imagine, if Stannis got stuck with that lioness instead. Her curse of a father would never allow it, but - ha! I’d like to see who’d win. Can’t sharpen her claws on stone.”

Y/N had no idea how to respond to that. Was he referring to Stannis marrying Cersei? What did that have to do with anything? “Your grace, I …”

“Would’ve been better if it was you and me, hm?”

Robert’s large hand slipped dangerously low on her waist, and the way he so casually slid his fingers down her side made Y/N’s blood turn to ice. He held her closer still, grinning like there was some secret between the two of them. The iciness spread to her gut and squeezed it hard.

Y/N hastily glanced around, wondering if anyone noticed - for a fleeting second, if anyone would save her. Her heels squeezed her feet as they danced, the aching returning with a vengeance. Robert had her in an iron grip, and he kept stroking her hip.

“He isn’t any good, I bet,” Robert mumbled, the drink beginning to affect him now. They swayed a little, and he leaned down, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. “Bet he doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “Your grace. The song is over.”

It wasn’t, but she tried to pull away. Robert blinked, swaying with her sudden movement. He righted the two of them. “There’s still plenty of night left, Y/N. I’ll get us a better drink, this Dornish swill doesn’t sit with me.”

Let go! Her head screamed. The discomfort and sickness in her stomach reached a peak, and she all put pushed at his muscular body. Y/N stumbled back, her heels pinching her hard. “E-Excuse me, your grace,” She hurried through an excuse without looking at him. “I feel ill. I should rest.”

She didn’t bother to listen to Rober’s response. Y/N turned on her heel and skittered away, not caring about the looks she received as she darted through the crowd to the hallway. Away from the feast, the Keep’s red stone halls were cold and soothing. She picked a doorway and took herself as far as her biting heels would allow. It wasn’t until she reached a dead end that Y/N took in a deep breath of air and slid down to her knees. She heard seams pop in her dress from the swift movement.

She took in another breath, slowly released it, then took in another. The ice in her veins had turned to bile in her stomach. She oriented herself and staggered her way to the private apartments meant for the family of the king.

The door opened suddenly. The only evidence of Stannis’ surprise was how sharply his eyes glanced up. He was in the same place she left him, doing the same thing - sifting through a storm of paperwork on a desk. She hurried to the bedchambers.

She flopped on the bed, feeling her hairnet coming loose and hearing several more seams popping. The dress was too damned tight. She sucked in a breath and began unlacing it, grateful a handmaiden didn’t wait up for her. They were kind, but they hovered, and she didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Y/N’s head began to pound, and she tried to concentrate on undoing the dress without tearing any more of it.

There was a knock at the door, and she flinched, then sighed. Of course he’d knock. “Come in.”

Stannis never seemed entirely comfortable coming in when she dressed, even if it was his bedroom too. He averted his eyes as Y/N worked her dress off. “You’ve returned early.”

Y/N cleared her voice to make sure it was steady, and blinked her eyes a few times to keep the stinging at bay. “Is it early? I was already so tired.”

They had silence before, but this felt oppressing. Y/N tried to ignore it. She gave up on removing the dress; her braids and hairpins were a chore to remove, so they’d be a welcome distraction. Maybe he’d go back to his work, and she could go to bed and just pretend this night didn’t --

In a few steps, Stannis crossed the room and knelt before her. Y/N’s hair fell to her shoulders as she pulled the last pin, but her hand stayed suspended as she looked at him questioningly. Even in the candlelight, she saw a blush tinging his cheeks. He avoided her gaze and unlaced her heels, carefully holding her ankle as he pulled them off.

Carefully. Gently. She was instantly reminded of harsh hands gripping her, and the feeling of ice running up her limbs returned. Before Y/N could say anything, Stannis quickly stood and put her shoes away.

Y/N curled her legs up to her chest and tucked her feet under her skirts. “Thank you.”

“You have blisters.” Stannis said. “Should I get an ointment?”

“No,” Y/N murmured. She peeked at her toes and saw how red they were. She could feel the throbbing on her heels and ankles, too.

“You should have them made anew, or just toss them. This happened before.”

“Did it?” Y/N tried to remember the last time she wore the shoes. She faintly recalled that’s when Stannis carried her up the stairs to their apartment. Did she really wear these shoes back then? Maybe she kept them so he’d carry her again.

Stannis returned to her side, kneeling down again. He was so tall, they were still eye-to-eye. Not only did the candlelight make his blush more obvious, it made his blue eyes look nearly black. A pair of unfocused, lust-filled blue eyes flashed across her vision, and she squeezed one of the cold hairpins in her hand to focus. It was like night and day.

“You didn’t …” Stannis started to say, breaking Y/N out of her unpleasant memory. “You usually … say goodnight.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, but not in an unpleasant way. True, she usually walked to his desk to kiss him hello, and then a goodnight once she was dressed down and ready for bed. She’d urge him into bed, since he was clearly exhausted … and she may or may not have had certain ulterior motives.

“I’m sorry, Stannis. I’m rather tired.” Y/N said. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and their noses brushed as she pulled away. Stannis closed his eyes, as if taking in her warmth and smell. A terrible thought occurred, if he could smell the alcohol and sweat and somehow, Robert.

Stannis frowned slightly. “Does your head trouble you?”

I bet he isn’t any good.

“Yes,” Y/N said quickly. “I … I don’t feel well.”

He doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you.

She felt warm hands on her cheeks, then on her forehead. Stannis’ brow was furrowing in that way he always did, but instead of trying to solve ledgers and paperwork, he was puzzling over … her. Y/N’s cheeks warmed under that serious gaze, and she self-consciously looked away.

“I’ll fetch some water.” Stannis said, finally breaking the silence. It was clear he had more to say, but as always, his tongue ended up tied around her. By the time Stannis returned, Y/N was in her nightgown and nestled in bed. She hadn’t bothered to brush her hair out, or wash her face, which was so unlike her. With a frown, he set the water down and tucked her in. Perhaps she would feel better in the morning - and she’d wake to a good breakfast and a drawn bath.

Y/N felt just as disoriented and ugly waking up as she did falling asleep. She’d slept in far later than she had before, and opted to stay in the bedroom to nurse her hangover and lingering negative emotions. The handmaidens doted on her, spurred by Stannis’ concern - when she finally did wake, there was ointment, a hot bath and a large breakfast waiting for her.

When she next saw him, Y/N pretended she was better. It was easy to do that when her kisses and thankfulness were genuine. That made Stannis believe she really was better, that it was only a hangover, exhausting evening and bad shoes.

In time, Y/N could press that unpleasant night to the back of her mind. She could have never told Stannis because it would only cause trouble, and besides, what could he do? Robert was king. Nothing really happened. If she said anything, her friends would roll their eyes, insist it wasn’t that bad, or be openly jealous at having the attention of the king. She would pretend it was fine, and forget.

The rest of the courtiers wouldn’t do the same, however. There were whispers that grew into words. There were those who wanted gossip, those who had ill intent to begin with, those who were bored and wanted something new to gasp at. They all helped the words and rumors spread, and Y/N blocked them all out, taking refuge in her royal apartments. She never expected they’d reach Stannis; Usually he ignored the asinine gossip that spread around the Red Keep - the only thing that spread faster was the lover’s pox, he said. He never believed any of it, never even entertained listening to it.

Until he figured out what the handmaidens, knights, servants and lords and lords’ wives were tittering about. It was all the same thing.

For once, the young Baratheon didn’t think. He could barely see, let alone reason, with all the rage flowing through him. Anyone who saw him storm down the hall couldn’t deny he was a Baratheon. The anger in his blue eyes was like a summer hurricane.

He put all of his strength into throwing open the heavy doors to Robert’s private visiting chambers. All three of its occupants - Robert, Jon Arryn and Ser Jaime - startled from the abrupt noise. Jaime, who was normally quick to his sword, faltered when he saw who was the source of that noise.

Robert had already set down his drink. He wasn’t startled enough to drop it, but he did carelessly spill on the polished wood table. Robert anticipated something mundane wound up his little brother - taxes not adding up, maybe he forgot a meeting with a lord, something stupid like that. “Seven hells, Stannis, what’s got you fired up --”

“Keep your godsdamned hands to yourself, or I’ll cut them off!”

Robert nearly choked on his tongue, and Lord Arryn almost joined him. The old man was normally so quick to settle his former ward’s temper, but he hadn’t ever seen the same kind of wrath in Stannis. His mind was rushing for words to calm the man, but Jaime responded with action. The kingsguard stepped forward, his hand on his sword. “Is that a threat to your king, Lord Stannis?”

“What did it bloody sound like? Do I need to repeat myself?” Stannis’ teeth gritted. He didn’t even glance at Jaime.

Now it was Robert’s turn to flare his temper. “What the seven hell’s wrong with you, Stannis? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Lord Arryn stepped between Robert, who was now standing, and his brother. The only other thing between them was a long mahogany table, now looking as small and pitiful as driftwood. “Your Grace, Lord Stannis - please take a moment and compose yourselves. Ser Jaime, there’s no need for --”

“You’ll show respect to your older brother, and your king!”

“I won’t give anything to a drunken lecher that would interfere with my wife!”

Robert jumped to his feet, and for a second, Jaime was sure he’d throw the table. It wouldn’t be difficult for the giant of a man. At the same time, Stannis reached for his waist, and Robert reached for his shoulder… and in an instant they both realized they weren’t armed, and thank the gods for that. Jaime didn’t doubt the servants would be scrubbing Stannis’ guts off the floor for days.

“Enough!” Lord Arryn bellowed. Slight as he was, he could have a commanding voice. “This is madness! What is your grievance toward His Grace, Lord Stannis? Has something happened?”

“He would know.” Stannis said. “At the last feast -- you disrespected Y/N, and her honor. You treated her like one of your whores.”

Robert’s face flushed red, and it was Jaime’s guess if that was from anger, embarrassment or the wine he was drinking earlier. Jaime had heard such rumors himself, and more scandalous ones, but he didn’t put stock in them. Plenty worse was said about himself. His green eyes went to the old man - based off Lord Arryn’s grave expression, he might have heard more. He might know the truth. Jaime felt a sudden surge of anger toward the king, not the first time he’d felt this. Cersei will have far worse to say to him when she hears about this

“I didn’t go that far,” Robert tried to regain his voice and authority. “Damn you, Stannis, I wouldn’t lay a hand on her! I can't even remember the blasted feast ... I woke up half-sick in my room.”

His strong tone began to falter as Robert tried to replay the night in his mind. It was clear he couldn't - as usual, wine had muddled his memories. No one in the room expected Stannis to take that as a valid excuse. "You did interfere, you just don't remember. You're always drinking too much, whoring too much --"

"I'm king and I'll do as I damn well please!" Robert said defensively. "There's no bloody law saying a king can't drink or touch a woman!"

"If the next one you touch is Y/N, I'll take care of you myself.”

Threats often lost their effect if you repeated them, but the words had a new menace with Stannis’ expression attached to them. His eyes could have been glaciers, and a chill settled upon the room as the three men remembered this is the man who often cut the hands of thieves and gelded rapists. He outlasted the Tyrell siege, and cut the fingers of the smuggler who helped him survive it. It was not that Stannis was a butcher, but he was fierce in what he thought was just, and he had the unyielding drive to see it done.

Lord Arryn was the first to break the cold spell that set upon them. He stepped forward, putting a hand gingerly on Stannis’ shoulder. The younger man didn’t flinch, but he didn’t look, either. Lord Arryn said with a low voice, “Let us speak outside, Lord Stannis. Please.”

The brothers stared each other down, and for the first time since knowing the King, Jaime watched him falter. His great shoulders sagged just slightly, and his eyebrows knit together. Robert wanted to say something, but finding the words was the problem. Jaime didn’t understand why until he finally spoke.

“Stannis, I… ... I don’t remember a thing, I swear it. I wouldn’t have done anything to your Y/N.”

The Kingslayer blinked. He’d never heard regret in Robert’s voice, and he wouldn’t hear it for some time. Lord Arryn was not surprised, only relieved.

Stannis was the implacable one. This didn’t satisfy him, not in the slightest. The oldest Baratheon had always done as he pleased, regardless of the consequences. He expected others to nod their heads and follow along, if they weren’t already encouraging him. So many did that, blind to the consequences Robert was dragging them into. This was just another slight he paid to his own brother, but Stannis felt this one especially hard. Of all the women in the Red Keep, Robert had to disrespect his -

No, it wasn’t right to refer to Y/N that way. She was not property, Stannis would never refer to her as that, nor should anyone. He was thinking of the other sense of the word, the other way to belong to someone. That way was far more binding than any marriage, and as illogical and senseless as it was, Stannis wanted it. This latest stint of Robert’s drunken foolishness made him realize if Y/N wanted anyone, she could have them. She was beautiful of course, but she had that wit, that intellect, that capacity to understand others and help them understand her. In the months they’d been married, he’d found himself relaxing in her presence, then being comforted by it, then actively wanting it. Desiring it.

Stannis bristled at the intrusive thoughts, but they were the truth. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she thought of him, if she was only performing and giving him the support expected of a wife, if she’d do this with any husband she’d been arranged to marry. He never had the nerve to ask. He couldn’t ask, fearing the answer.

Suddenly, he felt the old man’s hand squeeze his shoulder, and Stannis finally looked at Lord Arryn’s steady face. Calm as it was, his eyes were entreating Stannis to say something, or better, to leave it all behind. He realized he’d been silent for some time. They wanted him to forget all about it, like he should forget about Storm’s End and Dragonstone. Stannis grit his teeth, ignoring the shot of pain that went up his jaw. There was nothing he could say that would get through to his stubborn aurochs of an older brother.

“Just stay away from her,” He managed to say, his voice bouncing off the mostly empty chambers. He didn’t bother to say any more, or close the double doors as he left.

On any other day, Stannis made a point to walk carefully through the Red Keep. Unpopular as he was, his presence and reputation was still important to the throne. He and Robert were young, and usurpers, besides. They had to be careful. These Kingslanders were a nest of serpents, and there was no telling which was a viper and which was a garden snake.

But he couldn’t control the way his shoes echoed off the stone walls, or how he outright glared at any guard to get out of his way. He was still too thin, but there was no mistaking the anger in that tall body. He was taller than most of them, and he could appear as fierce as Robert when his temper finally rose.

Y/N. He had to see her, he had to talk to her. Gods, he should have as soon as he heard those disgusting rumors, but all he could think of was her and Robert, laughing, drinking, his arms around her - no, Stannis wouldn’t go there. Just the faintest imaginings hurt him more than he thought possible. He caught himself before he entered their shared apartment. He didn’t want to frighten Y/N by barging in, and he ought to collect himself. It wasn’t right to act like this in front of her.

Stannis took a deep breath and tried to unclench his jaw, like she always told him, but it was already aching. He rubbed at it absently and stepped inside, trying to steady his pounding heart.

It didn’t work. Y/N was sitting right there, relaxing on cushions at the large bay window. 

He’d noticed she liked sitting there, so he had several cushions brought in to make it more comfortable. Her long linen dress was spread across them, and he could clearly see the outline of her curled up legs. One of the straps of the dress was drooping off her shoulder. When Y/N looked up from her book, she adjusted the strap. She smiled at him, looking better than she had that night. “Are you already finished with the small council?”

Stannis just thought she was tired that evening, or she had drunk too much. Knowing the truth, the guilt hit him at once. Why hadn’t she said anything? What did she think he would do, or wouldn’t do? Did she not trust him?

Before any more intrusive thoughts could surface and hurt him even further, he blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N’s smile froze. “What are you talking about?” She asked.

“Robert. He interfered with you that night. You never told me.”

Stannis hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but as usual, he misspoke. Y/N’s face filled with anxiety, then fear. The book fell from her hands and slid to her lap.

“I-I … I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just - he was drunk, so I thought it was best to forget…”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to frighten her like this. Stannis hated that expression on Y/N, one he’d never seen before, and one he caused. He crossed the room in a few steps, and his heart broke further when she leaned back.

“I talked to Robert,” He said, trying to explain, but that didn’t help. He may have made things worse. Damn it all, why couldn’t he talk to Y/N properly? Why did his chest have to seize and his senses have to leave? “I told him if he touches you again, I’ll remove his hands.”

“You didn’t!”

Stannis took her wrists and carefully, gently, trying to express something he couldn’t articulate. It was months of confusing thoughts and even more confusing feelings, and he was ruining it. What if she never smiled at him, or touched him again? What if she stayed afraid and wary?

“He’ll never touch you again, I swear it. I should have been there to protect you, and I wasn’t. I … I should have been with you, as a husband. I failed that.”

He moved his hands to her own, and as badly as he wanted to entwine their fingers, he didn’t think he deserved it. He always gave everything he had, he always put duty first, but it was only fitting he’d fail this one. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to handle women, how to talk to them or approach them, although Y/N was something else entirely. He was poor with people, he knew that, but this was his wife, and there was no excuse -

“Oh, Stannis,” Y/N said softly, that voice breaking him from his thoughts entirely. He looked at her painted lips, then her eyes, which had lost that fear. “Is that what you think?”

He wasn’t sure what she meant. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t fail anything.” Y/N wove their fingers together, squeezing his hands, and he thought his heart jumped into his throat from just that gesture. “You don’t control Robert. No one does. It’s just like him to do something like that, isn’t it?”

“But, I should have protected you -”

“By dueling him in front of everyone? Creating a scene at a feast?” Y/N asked, and before he could give a blunt answer she added, “He’s the king, Stannis, and we both know his… appetites. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been some other girl, and … and it wasn’t so terrible as they all say…”

Stannis grit his teeth, tightening his grip on Y/N’s hands. “He shouldn’t, it’s unbecoming of a king, and besides that, it was still too much. Even a lecherous word is too much. You’re my -”

Mine.

“- my wife, and a lady of the Baratheon house.”

Y/N’s strap had fallen again, and her expressions still troubled, but he would take that over fear. Stannis reached out and fixed it, his fingers brushing across her warm skin. Y/N also reached out, but she pressed her thumb between his furrowed eyebrows. Stannis flinched back.

“Don’t wear that face,” She said softly. “I’ll be alright. I need time, and I’ll forget.”

“I won’t forget.”

“I know.” Y/N’s hand cradled his face, the same thumb stroking his cheek. Stannis releasing a hard breath. Just a simple touch and meeting her gaze was enough to bring the nerves back. He hated it, but he wouldn’t pull away, not even when Y/N kissed him. It was slow, and when she parted she said, “I know you would have protected me.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. Stannis glanced away. He noticed the strap had fallen again. “Y-You should have that fitted,” He said, fixing the offending thing. "It's too loose."

"Is it truly bothering you?”

"Yes."

Y/N giggled a little, and that was enough. He didn’t know how to make her laugh, so he was pleased when he did it by accident. She wiggled her shoulders so both straps slipped off, and with them, a little of her dress slipped down. “This fixes it, I think.”

Like she anticipated, Stannis' ears went red. He probably just realized that from his kneeling position, he was near eye level with her breasts. Pointedly trying to avoid looking was just making him more obvious.

Y/N squeezed his fingers and tugged Stannis forward. After a moment's hesitation, he shifted his position and sat on the cushions beside her. She wouldn't let go of his hand, so he leaned in, resting his head on her bare shoulder. Her skin was warm from sitting beside the window, and there was the distinct perfume she always wore. He could only smell it when he was this close, and it was oddly exciting, like a secret that only he knew. He listened to her faint pulse, how it matched with his breath as he rested on her shoulder. It reminded him of when they were intimate, when their chests were pressed together and their hearts beats were two separate sounds, trying to beat in tandem. She'd hold his hand then, like she did now.

That biting thought he had just minutes ago, that feeling of failure and confusion, was beginning to fade. It was difficult to feel like he'd done wrong when Y/N's fingers were trailing down his back. His tunic kept him from feeling them against his bare skin, but he knew that would change shortly. The anticipation of that spurred him on, pushing aside the last nagging anxieties.

While he kissed her neck, she sighed and curved her body against him, making him realize how cramped the bay window seat was. Y/N pulled on him again, and he followed her instruction. They ended up pressed against each other on the floor, lost in kisses and embraces. Y/N had lifted her leg up and let her dress fall down, and damned if his immediate reaction wasn’t stroking her bare thigh and squeezing it.

Y/N’s lips parted and she whined against him. “Stannis - wait, I meant to … I want to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He stopped his hand from trailing up any further. He felt like he had a fever, but fevers were never this pleasant.

“Did you - did you hear the talk about… Some of them were saying that I’m unhappy with you. That you bore me, or ignore me, or some such like that.”

Stannis frowned. He’d heard such things even before this mess, and didn’t understand why she brought it up. Y/N’s soft hands slid up his now wrinkled tunic and she gave him several light kisses as she continued, “I don’t ever want you to take those words to heart. You make me very happy, more than I ever thought I would be. I swear it, by your gods and mine.”

Her eyes were dazzling then, the sun from the window reflecting from them, and something else making them shine like stars. It was tears, he realized, though they didn’t fall to her cheeks. Stannis would’ve believed her without the swear, he’d believe her if she said even a fraction of those words, if those eyes shone even a little duller. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing their bodies even closer together, and gave him several breathless kisses.

The aching inside him was so strong, it was dizzying. When they parted from a longer kiss, Y/N asked, “Are you well?”

“No,” He said instantly, because he could swear he was having a heart attack. His chest was squeezing together like a giant was stepping on it, but it wasn’t … painful. “No, I am - I am well. And I am happy - with you, Y/N.” His words came out short, his mouth trying to keep up with the thoughts racing across his mind.

That seemed inadequate, but she smiled all the same. For the hundredth time he wondered if Y/N could read his thoughts. She leaned in for a kiss, and yelped in surprise as he swept her into his arms and stood up.

“Stannis! What are you -?”

“I’m not taking you on the bloody floor,” He muttered. The room had plush rugs and wood in lieu of rough stone and rushes, but it was still a floor, as far as he was concerned. “You deserve more than that. ...I want to give you more than that.”

“Oh?” Y/N grinned. She nuzzled his neck and kissed it, which only tightened his grip. “Show me how much you’ll give.”

She anticipated the flinch when she grasped his shoulders, and the quivering when she ran her hands down his bare back. When her arms wrapped across his torso and she pressed her cheek against his back, she could hear his heart thumping, like a dog's happy tail hitting the floor.

Y/N grinned at that, and softly giggled when Stannis tried to worm away. She understood it was nothing against her; he was antsy about too much affection, and she was certain the past hour was far beyond his limit.

One last kiss, then. She pressed her lips against the nap of his neck. "Are you needing something, my husband?"

"Tunic," Stannis mumbled. His pants were already on, but Y/N was shamelessly making the rest of the dressing difficult. His tall legs were swung over the bed, but Y/N was still clinging on, and he could feel every inch of her warm, naked embrace.

"Ah, yes, how forgetful of me." Y/N reached behind her, fetched the tunic from the mangle of sheets, and handed it to him. She promptly went back to her hug from behind.

Stannis grunted. "Y/N."

She was teasing too much, she knew. "Would you like some help? Those fasteners can be so tricky."

She just had to smile at the eye roll he gave her. It was times like this when Stannis acted his age: a young man in his twenties, with the dark circles under his eyes almost unnoticeable, and some flushed color on his skin. She hoped he was eating and sleeping better these days.

Y/N freed her prisoner and quietly watched him dress. Maybe another kind of man would stay in bed with her and laze the day away, but Stannis was not that sort, and she knew that. Personally, she wanted to stay in their apartments and avoid more social obligations. Her mind wandered to the rumors that surrounded them, that ugly reality breaking into this idyllic late afternoon.

At some point, Stannis had finished and was standing beside the bed. Y/N smiled and pulled on his hand, bringing him closer. Stannis only mildly resisted and asked again, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well," Y/N replied. She entwined her fingers in his and kissed his palm. “Very well.”

Stannis flushed all over again. He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed his wife’s brow in return. “Whenever that isn’t the case, I want you to tell me.”

Looking down on her from that angle, with her hair splayed around her shoulders, the light from the window warming her skin and highlighting every curve. His throat felt dry, but he was pleased to hear her say, “I will.”

Stannis only nodded, but lingered like something was anchoring him. It was an uncomfortable ache that hit suddenly, even if he was ready to leave just minutes ago. He made it to the doorway, but glanced back. Y/N stood from the bed and swept one of her thin robes around her body. He could still see the outline of her legs and curves as she tied it tight. She glanced over her shoulder, strands of her hair falling from her shoulder to her back.

“You’re staring.” She teased. “Didn’t you have important work to do?”

There was always work to do, always some sort of duty to attend to. This was a duty in itself, keeping his wife happy and ensuring she was respected. He’d make sure those foul rumors were dispelled, one way or another. Still, it was strange for “duty” to be this … pleasant. This warm and safe. Stannis crossed the room to give her one last goodbye - a squeeze of the hand, and a promise to return - and he left.