#what the hell did i mean centuries it’s decades you fool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (10)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: smut (18+), angsty angst, this time I dont leave you with a cliff hanger 😉 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“Come on, Bucky! I know you’re in there!”

You hit your fist on the door again. Perhaps you would have been more mindful of the the hour, but you’d heard glass shattering as you raced up the stairway just moments ago. You’d heard him shouting himself hoarse and heavy footsteps as he paced inside his apartment. You’d heard the cracks in his voice – the consumption of grief and fury and shame swallowing him whole.

One of Bucky’s neighbors had rung Sam the first time Bucky’s screams could be heard through the thin apartment walls. It was the fifth time in as many nights and Sam promised Bucky would get it under control before they went to the landlord with noise complaints. He made no such promises that he would be the one to do it.

An elderly woman in a nightgown peeped her head out into the hallway, scowling at you as you continued pounding on the door. Her beady eyes narrowed and you only spared her a moment’s glance before you returned to the door.

“I’ll wake up the whole building! I swear to—”

The door was pulled from under your fist. In its frame, stood a ghostly version of the man you knew. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. His hair was disheveled, blood dripped from a cut in his palm. Behind him, furniture was turned on its side, glass on the floor, magazines and unopened mail littering every surface. He'd torn his place apart.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice stronger than you felt. “Sam called me.”

Bucky’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “Of course, he did.”

He paused only for a moment before he turned his back to you and walked inside the apartment. The door was left open in his wake and you took it as permission to enter.

Cautiously, you took your first steps into his apartment. You tried to ignore the dust lining the curtains and the fleeting thought wondering when the last time he’d allowed the sun to touch his skin. The latch clicked behind you and you winced at the intrusion to the silence.

Bucky meanwhile was staring out into the mess of his living room. His gaze rested on the couch turned on its side, then to the box of trinkets spilled on the floor by the mantel, then the broken glass by the window. His shoulders sagged; his expression unreadable. Slowly, he knelt down to the edge of the couch to flip it back on its legs.

You watched him carefully, not uttering a word or daring to move closer until he finished. Once the couch was right side up again, he exhaled a tired breath and leaned against the edge. Exhaustion flickering through his eyes, though you suspected it had little to do with the exertion of moving furniture.

As Bucky moved to throw the cushions back to the frame, you realized suddenly how he was dressed. Plaid blue pajama pants hung low on his waist. Bare feet prodding over hardwood floors too close to where broken shards of glass waited. His chest was exposed; skin glazed in the dim glow of moonlight as it peered through the small slit between the curtains.

You could see his shoulder blades move along his back as he tensed. The lines of his spine and the dips along his hipbones. When he turned to face you again, your eyes were drawn to his shoulder and the frayed mess of scar tissue and burns. It was mesmerizing, the intricate patterns and the markings on his skin. Pink and red and faded with time. You wondered if it still hurt, if he could feel the nerve endings there or—

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky’s. He was watching you, barely taking a breath. So vulnerable as he stood in front of you and he had no time to prepare for it. He probably didn’t realize how exposed he was until he noticed you staring. You’d imposed on his home, on his space. He couldn’t have known he’d be confronted with this tonight.

All the effort it took for him to simply remove his jacket and now he was left standing before you without a single layer to protect him.

You could see the doubt swimming behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to pretend like this connection between you was something he could easily push away, like he could let go of it without much of a second thought or a single word in his own defense, you could tell he was ripping himself apart at the seams, wondering whether you found him as repulsive as he saw himself to be.

He shook his head, his features hardening over again. He gripped at the side of the couch until his knuckles turned white.

“You should go home,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was thick as gravel. “Sam shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Shouldn’t have—?” You scoffed, stunned. “Bucky, look at this place!”

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly and you almost laughed if it weren’t for the deadpanned look upon his face.

“You’re clearly not fine!” You dared to take a step closer, aching to remind him of the lightness he carried weeks earlier, only for him to retreat. He rejected the contact on instinct – a flinch throughout his whole body. Your heart clenched as if a hand had slipped in past your ribs and squeezed until it burst.

Your breath was tight in your lungs as you tried again, a little softer this time, “you’re not fine, Bucky. You’ve kept yourself held up – alone – in this apartment for days on end. You’re pushing away the people who care about you. You’re not sleeping. You... You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wondered if it might shatter. His gaze was unfocused, staring down at the floor by your feet.

“You don’t have to put yourself thought this,” you eased, though the tension would not fade from his muscles. They remained locked as stone. You inched forward, a hand extending to him, an anchor to ground him. “Bucky, please... let me help you.”

Something snapped – as sudden as a rubber band pulled taunt until its breaking point – and Bucky’s cold eyes met yours.

"There is NO helping me!” he roared, startling you enough to flinched back a few paces, your hand curling back against your chest protectively. He curled his shaking hand to a fist. “I can't escape this shit! Even when I thought I could—when things were finally bearable again and I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and I actually wanted to live through the fucking day— it all came back anyway! One word and I’m right back to where I started! I’m a fucking nightmare to be around! Don’t you get that?!”

His breaths were coming in ragged, too quick. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes red. He hit his knuckles against the edge of the couch, on the wooden frame under the spine. Bucky barely took in a full breath.

“I can’t keep my shit together and I’m -- I’m only going to hurt you, okay? You shouldn’t want anything to do with this. I—I mean, look around you!” He kicked at the glass near his exposed feet, angry tears burning on his cheeks. “This is what my life looks like! Is this—is this what you want for yourself? You really want to sign up for this? This—this fucking endless parade of night terrors and panic attacks and anxiety? Huh?”

He was brimming with pain. It was spilling over the surface and coating the floor. You were drowning in it and all you wanted to do was cross the room to him, to hold him, to soothe even an ounce of that suffering away because it would consume him whole if he let it.

Bucky’s right hand was shaking so badly, tremors wouldn’t cease even as he clenched his fist. His body betrayed the stone he etched into his features. It was crumbling under the weight.

“You really want to throw away your life for that? For me?” he spat as if the very idea itself carried venom in its implication, as if it were nothing more than a fool’s errand to spend a lifetime by his side, as if choosing him would be choosing to tie a noose around your neck.

You’d never seen the evidence of his self-loathing before—not in full view and smothering the man you adored. He was expecting you to recoil, to run, to fight and argue and ultimately accept that you could never love a man so broken. It was a reaction he could wait a century for and still never find even a glimpse of hesitancy on your features.

You steadied your breathing. Focused on the heart of the man standing in front of you, determined to push past the destructive fog he’d surrounded himself in. You took a step toward him, and this time, he did not run.

“You’re not going to scare me away, Bucky.”

Shame quickly spread through his body, replacing the threads of anger with something much crueler. His eyes fell to the floor, his chest rising unsteady and he stumbled back a few paces to give you space from the rage he wasn’t able to control. He looked about a decade younger as his features softened again, cowering back into the shadows.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you eased, daring another step.

Bucky shook his head, reflective lines along his cheeks. His lower lip was chewed raw.

“You don’t deserve this mess. You should—You should be with someone whole. Someone who can give you a better life than I can.” He could barely choke out the words.

“I don’t want someone else.” You took another step closer, determined to close the space between you. “I want you.”

The tips of your fingers brushed against Bucky’s hand and a shiver cast up his spine. His eyes were transfixed on your touch as you slowly encased his hand in your own, easing the tension through his body and crumbling the stones in his chest with a gentle slide of your thumb against his palm. He started to sink against it, his whole body caving in to the very thing he’d been keeping at an arm’s length. He was suffering withdrawal.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky whimpered, tears slipping past his eyes as he shut them tight, as if he could cast away his demons if he were blind to their shadows over his shoulder.

You tugged gently on his hand, pulling him down to the couch. He followed you easily, his body moving of your accord as if he were made of clay. When you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, you felt the slight tremble along his spine, the shakiness in his bones. His head laid against your heartbeat, his right arm snaking around your waist in fear of letting go.

“I don’t need to know what happened. I don’t need the details,” you sighed against his ear. “I know you. I know you’re a good man, Bucky.”

Bucky was quiet for a minute. The silence hung thick in the air.

“What if I’m not?”

You tried to ignore the twist in your chest. “Oh honey, please don’t say that.”

“I lost eight people, Y/n,” he muttered out, holding onto you a little tighter. You could feel his heart pounding as you raked your fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him if only a little. “Eight of my unit. My friends. If I... If I had said something sooner... We were sitting ducks and... and...”

It was impossible to draw the pieces together. You couldn’t see the vivid image he held in his mind, but the details of that day weren’t necessary. He trusted you enough to outline the frame, to provide glimpses into the worst day of his life, even if they were messy and blurred. His body shook as he spoke, like maybe it was the first time he was saying the words aloud.

You ran your fingers along his spine, drawing patterns along his shoulder blades. He shivered.

The gentle glow of the moonlight caught the reflective edge of something on the floor. A medal. A Bronze Star. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, remembering what Natasha had told you about its merit for exceptional bravery.

“Were there any survivors?”

Bucky held his breath and slowly he nodded. “He was... He was just a kid when it happened. Peter. I think... I think if it wasn’t for him, I would have died out there. I would have given up. Woulda been easy enough. My arm would have bled out pretty quick and the sky... the sky was so beautiful that day. I don’t know why I remember that. Not a cloud for miles. It would have been a nice last thing to see, you know? I would have been okay with that. But Peter... Peter was so young and I... I wanted to bring him home.”

Tears were openly streaming down your face and you were thankful Bucky couldn’t see them as he laid against your chest. You tried to stifle the sob as it broke through. You kissed at his hairline again, holding him as tight as you could manage.

“You saved his life,” you stressed, hoping he might be able to hear it.

Bucky swallowed, tears brushing against the thin fabric of your t-shirt. “I lost eight others.”

“Yes, you did.” There was no disputing that. Eight lives had been lost and he was grieving his friends, his team, blaming himself for each life he didn’t save. His body tensed and you were mindful to draw pressured lines along his back to ease the rigidity there.

“You did everything you could, honey.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I could have... I—I should have...”

“Some things are just outside of your control.”

“But I—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky froze, the recognition present in his body as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “That’s....” He blinked a few times. “That’s what Sam always said. Those exact words.”

You smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. You wiped your thumb along his cheekbone, drawing away the tracks of tears on his face. “Sam’s a smart guy.”

Bucky searched your eyes and you could tell he was wondering how you’d come to know Sam’s mantras, how they’d become words you often repeated to yourself in your darkest moments, but he couldn’t quite find a way to ask. He pulled himself from your lap and propped himself up beside you, your hands intertwined. He squeezed it lightly and an aching smile pulled at your lips.

"Sam used to have to write it on paper for me,” you admitted at the bittersweet memory. “I couldn’t say it to myself and he figured if I could read it in his writing, maybe I’d believe it if it were coming from him. After a while I started to say them out loud and hearing it my own voice... I don’t know. Sam kind of tricked me into healing, I guess.”

You laughed under your breath and you felt Bucky ease slightly beside you. He squeezed your hand again, a silent reminder that he was there. You focused on the feel of his grip, the callouses on his palms and the warmth of his skin. Real and tangible. Your Bucky.

“Sometimes I think Sam’s the only reason I survived after I lost Riley.”

A slight pinch formed at Bucky’s brows, his eyes narrowing—a subtle sort of curiosity, though he waited patiently for you to continue. The silence didn’t seem to frighten him as much as he focused on you, his eyes darted to your lip as you dug in your teeth.

You hadn’t let yourself be vulnerable next to Bucky before, afraid to take away from his own suffering in favor of your own. But you had known pain of a different kind.

You knew what it was to crave comfort, to silently beg to be held. You knew how it felt to be rejected by a man too shattered to offer any piece of himself away without breaking apart entirely.

The way Bucky was watching you, even through the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion pulling him in... it settled the twists of nerves in your stomach. His thumb traced at the edges of your palms, gentle sweeps to ease the tension away. His back straightened, a determination returning to his features, a sense of belonging – of purpose – in his comfort of you.

“He was a pararescue in the Air Force,” you continued after a moment and a flash of realization crossed over Bucky’s features. You pressed out a sad sort of smile as you said, “you remind me of him a little.”

You thought of the t-shirt you’d lent Bucky the evening you’d gotten caught in the storm together, how it clung to his chest. Bucky’s shoulders where broader than Riley’s had been. It was slightly bigger on your frame the next night you wore it. The logo had faded with constant washing, the soft green of the fabric muted to a grey. You’d worn it to sleep nearly every night for weeks after Riley left for his final tour, longer after he’d been killed.

It was the most cherished thing you owned. Lending it to Bucky that night had taken a strength you hadn’t allowed for yourself in years. It brought back memories you’d left untouched and an ache in your chest you’d forgotten. But somewhere, under it all, it had released you.

Riley would have liked Bucky, you thought, might have considered him a friend. You hoped he wouldn’t mind being the bridge that allowed you to move onto a new sense of peace, a new comfort. Even in Riley’s darkest moments, he only ever wanted you to be happy. You desperately hoped he meant that.

“I loved him so much,” you told Bucky, your mouth feeling suddenly dry at the admission, “but the war had hurt him beyond the scars on his body. Most nights, he woke up screaming. I tried... I tried to comfort him, to ground him back to what was real, but Riley was always so stubborn. He insisted he was fine, as if I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes or that he started drinking coffee in the evening before bed. He never told me what happened. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, that he was just doing what he could to hold himself together, but... the truth was, I lost Riley long before the officers showed up at his parents’ house.”

Bucky nodded, watching you intently, though he didn’t say a word. You could feel his eyes on you as you kept your stare ahead, focusing on the imperfections laced into the brick of the fireplace across the room. You studied the curve of the cement, the nicks in the mantel, the divots of the stone. It was the first time you’d uttered Riley’s name in years.

“I know you think I can’t handle this stuff, that it’s too much for me, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been around someone with nightmares, Bucky, or panic attacks,” you said, memories flashing over Riley sinking to the floor with his hands pressed to his ears, tears streaming down his face, images of him turning his back on you and disappearing for days on end. You had hoped he’d open up in enough time, but he never did. He couldn’t, he’d said, or it would consume him whole. Even years later, you still wondered whether it was under the weight of his pain that he suffocated, not in the prospect of its release.

“Riley struggled after his first tour,” you continued, a lump burning in your throat. “He... He came back different. He couldn’t adjust to civilian life. I could tell from the second he got home that he was itching to go back. Despite all the pain he endured, all the nightmares and the guilt, all he wanted to do was go back.”

You glanced over at Bucky to find his jaw clenched in understanding. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, for soldiers who waited so tirelessly to be reunited with family and friends to feel isolated and insignificant when they returned home, to want to return to the one place they felt like they belonged.

“I tried to stop him,” you continued, wiping your eyes as unshed tears started to blur your vision. “I begged him to stay. He was out of his contract. He didn’t need��to go back but...” You sighed. Bucky’s hand gripped yours and you drew on the ounce of strength he was offering. “The worst part was that he was better when he was over there. He was smiling again and laughing and making jokes like he used to. He was promising things for our future I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider before then. Being over there... it offered him something I never could and I was... I was glad for that. I was thankful he’d gone. I was... relieved. I’d missed him so much and I was just happy he was himself again, even if he was a world away, even if it broke my heart. Seeing him happy again... it was enough.”

You brushed at your eyes, the calloused touch of Bucky’s palm sliding along your jaw to gently wipe the wet from your cheek. His breathing was even again, the shakiness in his hands subsided. He waited for you to gather your thoughts again, not uttering a word in favor of the crickets chirping outside the window – unparalleled kindness in his patience.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, urging yourself to continue. Your eyes met Bucky’s, finding comfort in the warm shades of blue and the encouraging glimpse of a smile that barely rose at the edges of his mouth.

“When Riley died, I blamed myself for a long time,” you said. “I told myself I could have stopped him from going back. I could have done more to convince him to stay, to get him the help he needed. I could have fought harder for him—for... for us. But Riley was his own person. He made his own choices and I couldn’t have done a damn thing to stand in his way. Sam helped convince me of that.”

Bucky’s face slacked. “That’s why you started volunteering at the VA.”

You nodded. “Sam and Riley were partners. They had some sort of pact to take care of the other’s family if something happened. Sam held up his side of the bargain whether I liked it or not. He dragged me to the open house that year and I haven’t left since. I do it for Riley, but... I don’t know... I think I do it for myself, too.”

You exhaled a heavy breath, turning away from the fireplace to face Bucky. His eyes weren’t as red as they had been, a frown no longer etched into his features. His gaze full, though heavy, and he watched you as if you carried the entire world in the palm of your hands.

“So, you have to understand... I can’t lose you to this war, too,” you choked out, squeezing at his hand to feel the firmness of it, to remind yourself that he was real and sitting right beside you and not an ocean away. “I won’t survive losing you, Bucky. I need you, okay? Please.”

He looked as though he was about to argue, but he quickly held his tongue as he watched the tears slip down over your cheeks. Reflective in the dim light from the window.

You took in a long breath, straightening your spine as you met his eye, your voice stronger than it had been since you started. “Not everyone comes home, but you did. You survived and you wandered into my life and somehow, you made me believe in love again. Even on your worst days, just being near you is the best part of mine.”

Bucky’s lips parted, a semblance of shock flashing over his eyes. You smiled at him through your tears, a hand sliding along the side of his cheek. He sighed against the touch of it, sinking into your embrace as if hadn’t ever expected to be held like that again. Your sweet Bucky, still so surprised that you could adore him as much as you did.

“So, I will take your nightmares and your panic attacks,” you told him, smiling through the trembling in your lips. “I’ll take your bad days and share the weight you carry on your shoulders. I’ll take every ounce of shame and self-loathing you have until the day comes you can hardly feel it at all. I’ll take the empty side streets with you and we’ll drive so far out into the country side we’ll never hear a firework again.”

Bucky chuckled at that, a smile pressing up along his cheek until you felt it under your palm.

“I will take anything you throw at me,” you sighed, your thumb brushing over his lips, “as long as you’re mine. As long as I’m yours. That’s all I want, Bucky. It’s all I ask. Just you.”

Bucky stared at you, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his features. You could see the hope burning behind his eyes, how badly he wanted to believe you, but doubt crept in and sunk its talons into his spine.

His smile sank. “You’ve... you’ve already been through so much. I don’t know if I’m worth all that.”

“You are.” You slid both hands along his cheeks, holding his gaze, until you leaned in closer, inch by inch, and pressed your lips to his forehead. Slow, lingering, you kissed his temples, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his jawline, pausing only when you found yourself a breath away from his lips.

“You are, Bucky,” you said again, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks and catching a tear in its path. He bowed his head, a slight trembling in his jawline. It took everything you had not to collapse into him.

“Honey, I promise you, it won’t always feel like this and I’ll convince you every day that you are enough, if you need me to,” you told him, your voice shaking as you held back tears. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever again.”

You leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head and his whole body seemed to sink in response, lightening, as if he’d let go of a boulder strapped upon his shoulders. His muscles softened, the tension slipping from his spine, until slowly, he began to lift his head, hair parting away from his eyes. Though they were strained and red, a crystalized ocean current stared back at you.

You could feel the ease in his body taking over, a realization and a determination present in his stare, in his body.

His lips parted, a steady breath in. “I love you.”

***

It was the easiest thing he’d ever said; slipped from his lips as if the words had simply tumbled out on their own. Lost in how tenderly you touched him, how your hands never once left his body even as he held himself firm as stone, how you entrusted him with the most painful parts of yourself, how you gently coaxed him away from the shadows threatening to drag him back into a darkness he’d never recover from – he’d never been so certain of anything in his life.

“I love you,” he said again, just wanting to hear it one more time. His voice was stronger this time, steadier, and he could feel his cheeks curving up into a smile. It ached from disuse, but it was a pleasant feeling. A kind one.

He slipped his hand to rest on yours as it laid against his face and gently pulled it back just enough to kiss at your palm. It wasn’t often he found you at a loss for words, but it he didn’t mind the silence, not like he did before. He could still hear the slight hitch of surprise in your breath, the nervous laughter carrying in your exhale. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it were even possible to love you more than he did in that moment.

“Really?”

God, you were so beautiful when you looked at him like that. Starry eyed and so full of hope.

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

You kissed him then, full on his mouth, arms thrown around his neck, and he had to stifle a laugh against your lips. He could feel the smile growing against him, laughing in between every kiss as the tears dried on your cheeks.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you beamed, drawing him in to kiss him again.

He shouldn’t be surprised after all you’d said to him tonight, but it still fluttered in his chest, still caused butterflies to swarm in his stomach, still cast a blinding light deep into his heart that pushed out the remaining darkness lingering behind. His arm snaked around your back, holding you as tight against him as he could manage. He was breathless by the time you pulled away.

“Will you stay?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous as his eyes flickered over to the bedroom door. “I know it’s a mess out here, but—”

Your lips were on his again and he swore he’d never talk again as long as you kept kissing him like that. Slowly, you began to stand from the couch, tugging him along with you. He pulled away from your lips just long enough to navigate his way to the bedroom, stepping over broken glass and the remnants of his nightmare on the living room floor.

His bedroom was untouched, at least. The sheets were thrown haphazardly off the bed, but other than that, it was pristine in comparison to the damage he’d done out there. A shame tried to work its way deep into his chest, but he felt your hand slip into his, carefully drawing him close to the bed, and it released him to your care.

His back bounced against the mattress in tune with the sweet sound of your laughter as you crawled over him. Thighs caging his hips, you straddled his waist and he looked up at you, certain he’d find a glimmering shine of a halo behind your head. The moonlight touched over your shoulders as you leaned down against him, kissing his lips.

He’d missed you so much. Those two weeks left him in a hole he couldn’t possibly dig himself out of on his own. He was scraping at the bottom, nails filled with dirt, digging himself deeper and deeper until he could no longer see the sunlight as it touched over the surface. It wasn’t until you jumped down into the pit with him that he noticed there were notches in a wall once perfectly smooth, allowing him to crawl his way back up to the top.

You leaned back a little, breathless, as your hands slid along his chest. It was the first time he’d been so exposed in front of you, the scars and burns on full display, and he was surprised that there was no hesitancy in your touch, no reluctance as you brushed your fingertips over the corners of the damage to his skin. But you paused, eyes flickering to him.

“Can I?”

Bucky sighed, his heart aching. You knew how difficult it was for him, for you to see this part of him. He hadn't even taken off his jacket once in the first few weeks of knowing you. But now, he nodded eagerly, wanting to feel the tenderness with which you handled him upon the broken remains of his left side.

Your hands slid up over his shoulder, brushing along the bumps and ridges in his skin. Hardened tissue and raised edges. The way you touched him, like he was something beautiful and adored, made his heart swell. It wasn’t until you leaned down to press a feathered kiss to his shoulder, just over the burn marks and the glimpse of what he’d lost, that he choked back tears.

“Is it too much?” you asked, noticing the trembling in his lower lip, but he quickly shook his head.

“It’s perfect,” he replied breathily, drawing you back to his lips. “You’re perfect. I don’t deserve—”

“Hush,” you warned, kissing him to cut him off, “don’t talk about the man I love like that. You deserve every ounce of love I can give you, you hear me?”

He stared at you for a moment, studying the sincerity on your features until the gravity of what you said sank in, and slowly, he nodded. It would take time to believe that, but he hoped the more you said it, the easier it would come. He’d believe just about anything if it came from your voice.

“Let me show you.”

Bucky stilled; his throat suddenly dry.

“Let me show you, Bucky,” you asked again, your lips against his neck. He shivered. You sucked at his skin, drawing a map along his collarbone. You tongue licked at the indent by his neck. “Please.”

When you met his eyes again, Bucky wondered if maybe you saw him with the same wonder and enchantment with which he saw you. It only took the slight tilt of a nod before you crossed your arms over your waist and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head. Your bra came next and Bucky shifted uncomfortably, realizing you were still straddling him, his hardening length prominent against your thigh.

He stared up at you, studying over the curves of your breasts, the dips in your hips, untouched and exposed – so incredibly beautiful.

He stopped himself as the thought entered his mind, the wondering whether he deserved such beauty in his life, wondering how he’d managed to trick the cruel twist of karma to allow him to love a woman like this – to love you like this.

He cast away the doubt, forcing it back to the shadows where it belonged. It was easier to do that when you smiled at him like that, like he was truly worth something.

You laid down against his chest as his hand slid up along your spine, feeling for the slight dip in your back and the goosebumps following in his wake. You shivered under his touch and for the first time, Bucky remembered what it felt like to be wanted.

He couldn’t stop kissing you, even as your hands slipped to his waistband. It was like you breathed new life back into him; reviving him with every touch.

He helped you push down the band of his pants until you could easily drag it down his legs and drop it to the floor by his bed. It had been a long time since he was so vulnerable in front of a woman, but he didn’t mind when you looked at him the way you did. There was no ounce of judgement in your eyes, no cautious glance to his shoulder and the absence there. There was only love.

You slipped the remaining clothes from your body and Bucky held his breath as you climbed over him again, straddling his waist, bare.

Bucky was trembling as he reached for the drawer at his bedside. Blindly digging around for a box in the back of the drawer, he felt for the edge of foil wrapping. He brought it to his teeth, careful to rip the packaging, though as he held it in one hand, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Would you...?” he asked, a blush creeping up into his cheeks.

He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed, given that you were both naked, but this was one of those things he couldn’t do for himself. It would have felt emasculating if it weren’t for how eagerly you nodded and how good it felt as you placed the condom on his tip and slowly rolled it down his base. He closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillow at the feeling, wondering how he was going to survive this.

“You alright there, honey?” you called, giggling under your breath and, damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, his hand sliding up along your waist, thumb brushing over your breast. He tried to catch the whimper as it left his lips to no avail.

You smirked. “I think we’ve waited long enough. Don’t you think?”

You sank down on him and he choked back a moan, embarrassingly loud, but it only seemed to spur you on as you rolled your hips, giving him little time to adjust. You were so tight, squeezing around him, and – holy shit – when you dragged yourself against him, using him as you sought out the angle you were looking for, he’d never felt anything like it.

He held his breath, focusing on the ceiling as he listened to the sweet sounds you made as your hands curled against his chest, hair falling down into your face. He knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted— hell, he would have stayed in you like this for hours if he could have – and it was taking near everything he had to hold out long enough for you to finish.

Thankfully, you were just as riled up as he was – high on missing him, aching in the distance – and Bucky gasped as he felt your walls clench around him with the rushed circles between your legs. You picked up in pace and Bucky found himself meeting you half way, thrusting up into you as he braced himself on the headboard.

“Oh God – Bucky,” you whimpered, your chest falling down to his, unable to hold yourself up. He kissed your neck, his hand sliding from around the wooden of the baseboard to grip your hips.

If he could, he would have had a hand on your breast, teasing at the nipple, the other sliding down to the space between your bodies, rubbing circles on the nerves that left you so breathless you could hardly hold yourself up. But he was learning again, getting used to his body and his limits, and all he could focus on was holding you, guiding your hips, giving him leverage to fill you whole.

Judging from the sounds you were making, your body molding like puddy against him, you didn’t mind at all.

“I’m close,” you gasped, breath hot against his neck. “Ah, God, Bucky... I’m-- I’m--”

He could feel it before the words left your lips, the clench in your walls, the spasms in your muscles that left you weak against him, overstimulated as you pulled your hand away from your clit. Your cries gave him the permission he needed to let go, only a few more thrusts was all it took, and he shuttered as he came.

Breathless, hardly able to control the laugh as it bubbled in his chest, Bucky could hardly believe that he started this night in the darkest place he’d been in months, only to end up lying here with you, so full of light and love he could hardly stand it.

He didn’t let you go at first, just wanting to hold you a little longer. He felt the sweet touch of your lips as they trailed along his neck, smile brimming against his ear. Then slowly, you rolled off of him, gently removing the condom and tossing it to the bin. A shiver slipped up his spine at the touch.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Bucky confessed as you laid against his chest, curling up to his side. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I can’t stand to go another day without you.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing along the lines on his shoulder, touching over old scars and burns. You traced them as if they were simply lines on his body, just another piece of him worth loving, worth memorizing. He wondered if the next time he saw them in the mirror, he might remember this moment and see them for something more than the evidence of his loss that day. Maybe, he might see them the way you did – as evidence of his survival.

“I love you,” you sighed and Bucky felt his heart swell; it grew and expanded so wide inside his chest, he wondered if his bones might bend to make room as it split him so lovely at the seams.

“I love you, too.” He curled his arm tighter around your shoulders, drawing you close to his side. Over your shoulder, a cast of moonlight seeped in through the windows, touching over your skin, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He closed his eyes as sleep drew him near, comforted by the patterns you drew against his shoulder.

When he fell asleep, he fell willingly – protected in your embrace, safe, from the nightmares laying in wake.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

hello! do you have any fics where charles meets edie/erik's family for the first time?

Hi anon. I have plenty of fics where Charles meets Edie and/or Erik's family. I hope you enjoy!!!

Charles Meets Edie/Erik’s family for the first time

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania - Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Fools and Their Mamas – LoveSupreme

Summary: Charles FINALLY gets to meet Erik's mother in person! Sure she doesn't know any English (besides knowing when Erik is cursing and thus requiring a good smack) and sure Charles doesn't have a great history when it comes to mothers, but Erik is sure everything will be stupendous, when he has brain power left over from trying to find a way to ask Charles to move to the Lensherr estate.

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

First Impressions – Ook

Summary: The first time Erik Lensherr, CEO of Eisenhardt Enterprises, met Charles Xavier he might just have called him a homeless drop out and accused him of being a junkie, before realising he was a waiter. He almost apologised.

The second time Erik Lensherr met Charles Xavier, he was volunteering at the soup kitchen, and Erik definitely (In Charles's opinion) accused him of being a thoughtless freeloader and slacker. He did apologise. Eventually.

The third time Erik met Charles, he hit him with his car. This was definitely not on purpose. Erik didn't actually ever say he was sorry, but he did end up taking Charles home with him, that time.

Food, Family, and Friends with Benefits – endingthemes

Summary: “Everyone,” Edie says, voice bursting with pride. “Erik’s here, and he’s brought his friend.” She takes Charles’ arm and pulls him forward, presenting him like a shiny object. “This is Charles.”

Charles manages a weak wave and an even weaker, “Hello.”

(In which Charles gets dragged along to his fuck buddy's parent's house to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and things get weird.)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

Look Up, You’re Standing Next To Me, What A Feeling – luninosity

Summary: Charles, when uncertain, buries the uncertainty beneath extra certainty about everything else, which reads an awful lot like arrogance to anyone who doesn’t know better. Erik does know better. His mother doesn’t.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Series

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Miss Missing You – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: In his head he knew it was unfair to compare Charles and Magda, but he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt around Charles. Erik had never felt this way about anyone before, and he relished the live wire of emotion coiled in his chest.

Erik and Magda are separated when he meets a charming young professor out on the town.

Soul of my soul – ikeracity

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Charles and Erik imprint on each other just in time for the holidays.

Heart of my heart – pinkoptics

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Of course, imprinting on the guardian of one of your grade one students isn’t ideal.

Then again, when has Erik’s life ever been ideal?

Love Over Challah – sebastian2017

Summary: As his first Shabbat alone with David approaches, Charles realizes he's overlooked one important detail: he's not actually sure how to have a Shabbat dinner. Thankfully, he meets Edie Lehnsherr, who just so happens to be having dinner with her son and grandchildren that very Friday and would love to have Charles and David over to celebrate the Shabbat with.

Charles and Erik meet while celebrating the Shabbat and bond over mutant activism and their adorable children.

When, how, and because we do – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Erik brings Charles home to meet his mother. AU of Tough little baby telepath.

And your smile, oh darling, your smile – lavenderlotion

Summary: Charles turned back around to find Mrs. Lehnsherr still standing in the doorway, watching them with a smile and some very warm thoughts that made Charles feel very soft in his chest, right by his heart. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Lehnsherr. It's very, very nice," Charles told her seriously, meaning every word and hoping that Mrs. Lehnsherr would believe him and not think him just terrible for the way that he had first thought the house too small.

Hearts and Bones – pocky_slash

Summary: Modern, non-powered AU. An impending visit with Erik's parents leaves Charles anxious and Erik unsure how to proceed.

Good manners (will get you far) – ximeria

Summary: Charles had been looking forward to the performance at the Met for ages. Little did he know, things would not go according to plan.

The Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

‘How to Parent’ by Edie Lehnsherr – SprinkleofSunshine

Summary: Edie prided herself on being a good mother. The best mother even. After all, she had several mugs in her cupboards declaring that truth gifted by her two children over the years. However, something is going on with her son, Erik, and it's her duty to find out what....

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

Meeting the Parents – melonbutterfly

Summary: Erik takes Charles home to introduce him to his family.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow – magneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #meet the family

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.2

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, ANGST, mild smut +18, comedy (i tried), fluff in this chapter

Warnings— Oral (m receiving), good ol making out

Word Count— 7.5k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Things are starting to get spicy~

You’ve never looked forward to a day of work more than today. Happily making your way to the shop, you found yourself daydreaming about Taehyung. He seemed to be slowly warming up to you throughout the course of yesterday. Maybe he’ll trust you enough to...to what?

Normally you’d automatically kill your targets as soon as you’d earn their trust (but maybe after indulging in some promiscuous activities). But this time around, your mind didn’t go there. You genuinely wanted him to trust you. Why? You had no clue.

You shook the question away. You’ll deal with that problem when you get there. For now, you’ll just take it one step at a time. The first step is officially gaining Taehyung’s trust.

Humming as you unlocked the front door, you’re unaware of the clouds looming overhead. You prep the store for customers (which you rarely get). The stack of orders had been cut in half thanks to Taehyung’s help. Maybe you could get through all of them together by the end of the day.

Yoongi was right. This alibi was a lot easier and surprisingly, a lot more fun to use. It was more freeing. It gave you the illusion of a normal life.

The door chimed.

“Welcome in!” you greeted.

“Good morning, ___,” Taehyung returned your greeting.

“Taehyung! You came!” you beamed.

“I said I would. I always keep my word,” a small smile cracked onto Taehyung’s usually stoic face.

“You think we can finish all of these today?” you waved the orders in his face.

“If you don’t slow me down, definitely,” Taehyung nodded.

“Excuse me? How dare you!” you feigned being upset.

“Oh, I was trying to joke with you. Did I upset you?” Taehyung’s smile disappeared, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“Oh my gosh, I know! I was playing along with you, silly boy,” you laughed.

“Ah, now I’m embarrassed. Truth be told, I don’t get out much. I’m sure you can tell,” Taehyung took the orders from you.

“Honestly, me too. I don’t have any friends,” you confessed.

Why was it so easy to talk to Taehyung? Never in a million years would you divulge any personal details, and yet here you were.

“Really?” Taehyung seemed surprised, “You seem like the type of person to befriend anything that breathes.”

“Are you teasing me again?” you asked as you gathered the flowers for the first bouquet of the day.

“No, I meant it as a compliment. After all, you managed to get me out of my house. That’s an impressive feat,” Taehyung took the flowers from you.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. Because apparently I ‘don’t know you’. But thanks, I guess?” you watched him expertly arrange the flowers in a decadent vase.

“Let’s change that then. Let’s see how much we can learn about each other in one day,” Taehyung stopped what he’s doing to look at you.

There it goes. Your heart skips a beat again. The kindness in his eyes did something to you that you couldn’t explain. You know you have to lie. Everything you tell him has to be a lie. You knew that. And yet.

“Sure, let’s do it. I’ll start. I’m a dog person. I love dogs!” you smiled.

Ok, that’s not a lie, but it’s also not important. No harm done.

“Me too! Ok, off to a good start. What’s your favorite breed?” Taehyung asked excitedly.

That was the start of a never ending conversation. You haven’t had a genuine conversation in ages. Granted, it was all surface level topics, but that didn’t make it any less special. Time flew by as each bouquet was completed. It was nightfall before you knew it.

“We did it!” you exclaimed.

All of the orders had been completed. Once again, vases were scattered all around the shop. You sank down and sat against the counter. It had been a long day.

Taehyung followed suit, sinking down beside you. He was only a few inches away, yet part of you wished he had sat closer.

“Indeed. And we did it together,” Taehyung smiled at you.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” you extend your hand towards him.

Taehyung formally shakes it. You sat in silence for a few moments.

“I guess you don’t need me to come by anymore, huh? Now that all of the orders have been completed?” Taehyung asked quietly.

“You’re always welcome here,” you paused for a brief moment, “Hey, how well do you think we know each other now?” you scoot closer to him.

“I’d say that you probably know me better than anyone else by now. No one else knows that I tried to play the saxophone. Thank god, I was terrible at it,” he chuckled, also scooting closer to you.

“I’ll carry that to my grave, I swear. No one else knows that I love kpop. And it better stay that way,” you playfully glared at him.

“I wouldn’t dare do anything to anger you. I don’t think I’d be able to handle your bad side,” Taehyung patted your head.

His soft gesture made you smile. He was so close to you, your knees were practically touching. You lean closer to him. He leans in ever so slowly. Instead of meeting you in the middle, he gently kisses your forehead. His cold lips left a lasting impression.

“You’re too sweet, ___. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Why would you hurt me?” you looked at him with doe eyes.

“I can’t really explain. I just...don’t want to see you get hurt,” he stroked your cheek.

“I don’t think anyone can hurt me while you’re around,” you replied.

That was a beautiful answer, one that would make any vampire fall prey to your fake innocence. Usually, you’d say anything to make them fall for your clutches. This time, you even had yourself falling for your own lie. You felt safe next to Taehyung, as if you were meant to be by his side.

“Well then, ___, if you’re so sure about that,” he said as he stood up, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“I would be a fool to say no,” you answered as he helped you up.

You loaded up the cart with the last of the bouquet orders. It was a joyful walk to and from the post office. The night sky was speckled with stars. The air was fresh and crisp. You found yourself skipping alongside Taehyung as he effortlessly pulled the heavy cart.

“May I pick you up for our date tomorrow?” he asked, as you both stood in front of the flower shop.

“Tomorrow? We’re moving pretty quickly,” you observed.

“I’m sorry, am I being too forward? I can wait, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Taehyung took your hand.

“No! You’re fine, Taehyung. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m joking, silly. Yes, tomorrow is perfect. It’s supposed to still be all rainy and gross right?” you laced your fingers between his.

“Yes, it’s like that practically year round here. That’s why I like this place. Can I have your address?”

“Of course, I can text it to you.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Dude, what? It’s the 21st century.”

“I don’t like technology. I suppose you can call me old fashioned.”

“You must be. Old man,” you chuckled as you wrote down your address on a piece of paper.

“I’m not that old,” Taehyung said defensively.

“Oh, c’mon. I guess a couple hundred years isn’t that old,” you say.

“W-what?” Taehyung’s eyes widened.

“Joking! Taehyung, you’re too uptight,” you playfully nudged him.

“Ah, aha ha yes. Good one,” Taehyung forced a nervous laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight!” you say.

“Goodnight, ___. I’ll see you on the morrow,” Taehyung bowed.

You’re still ecstatic by the time you get back to the cottage. You’re going on a date! A real life date! I mean, sure, it’s with the person you’re supposed to assassinate, but that part can wait. You haven’t been on a date since...well never. You’d grown accustomed to charming but empty flirtations and one night stands. This time, it actually felt genuine.

Part of you is beyond excited at the prospect of a real date, but a different part of you is begging you to stop. That part of you wants you to get this over with as soon as possible. Getting too connected with your target will only cause problems later on, you know that.

‘I can let myself have a little fun. I deserve that much,’ you try to tell yourself.

A phone call interrupted your thoughts.

“Hello?” you answered.

“How’d it go? Did you kill him yet? Why haven’t you called?” Yoongi immediately bombarded you with questions.

“Yoongi, slow down. Today was fine. No, I haven’t killed him yet. I just got back. Also, check in calls are to be made BY the hunter once or twice a week. I’ve talked to you two days in a row this week,” you say, audibly annoyed.

“This mission is different. Your target is extremely dangerous. Do you want me to send in reinforcements?”

“No, I can handle this on my own. I think it’ll take some time to gain Taehyung’s trust.”

“Who?”

“Taehyung. My target’s name.”

“You know that probably a fake name, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m just giving you a heads up that I may be here a while,” you sighed.

Honestly, you felt certain that his real name was Kim Taehyung. You felt certain that everything he’s told you so far is the truth. You’d acquired the useful skill of correctly sensing when someone was lying (many many years of training), but you saw no such signs with Taehyung.

“I appreciate that, I guess. Call me with every update. When are you seeing the target again? Why didn’t you kill him today?” Yoongi pressed more questions.

“I don’t know when I’m seeing him next. We finished all of the orders today, but I told him he’s always welcome in the shop. I’ll be waiting on him to pop by,” you lied, “I couldn’t kill him today because he still never let his guard down,” another lie.

“This guy sounds tricky as hell. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to seduce you yet. Or is there something you’re not telling me?” Yoongi’s voice raised with suspicion.

“No, this guy is incredibly aloof for a vampire. It’s gonna be a challenge to get him to trust me, but I can do it,” you reassured him.

“Alright. I’ll believe you for now. Don’t hesitate to call. Bye,” Yoongi hung up.

He must really be worried. He never says ‘bye’. He usually just abruptly hangs up.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Yoongi the truth. He would have admonished you for not finishing the job quickly. Suddenly, you began to second guess yourself. Should you go on a date with him? Maybe you should just surprise attack him as soon as he knocks on your door.

You shook your head. This was stupid. Yoongi was stupid for making you worry. You have everything under control. You might as well enjoy the job while you can. The most important thing to remember is to NOT catch feelings, and you know that. You won’t. You can’t afford to.

You slept in the next morning. Since all the orders had been completed, there was no need to visit the shop. You naturally woke up when the sunlight shone through the blinds, slightly illuminating the room.

Sitting at your breakfast table with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other, you realized that Taehyung never told you when he’d come pick you up. You’d normally assume that he’d pick you up in the evening, but you never know with Taehyung.

You hop into the shower after eating. Getting ready early never hurt anyone. You skim through your closet after you finish showering. You’ve never worn anything cute for a date before. Technically, you could call all your clubbing and partying outfits ‘cute’, but that’s more of a promiscuous cute, not a first date cute.

You try out a style that you’ve always wanted to wear, but never had the opportunity to. You pair an oversized sweater with a simple but flowy skirt. After applying some light makeup, you genuinely felt cute. You twirled in front of your mirror.

It was early afternoon by the time you finished getting ready. As if by magic, there was a knock on the door as soon as you put on your last accessory.

‘Hi Taehyung!” you greeted him.

“Good day, ___,” he politely greeted back.

The early morning sun retreated behind dark clouds by the time the afternoon came by. Taehyung held an umbrella over his head as he stood on your doorstep.

“Come in! I just finished getting ready. I actually had no idea what time you’d arrive,” you ushered him in.

“I realized I never told you by the time I got back to my house. I felt so foolish,” Taehyung blushed, “But it seems like I had the perfect timing.”

“Mhm, we must be connected by fate or something,” you giggled.

“Do you believe in fate?” Taehyung asked, awkwardly standing just inside the threshold of your cottage.

“Sure, I guess. Life is more fun when you believe in things like that,” you replied, taking his hand to lead him into the living room, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you. What do you mean by ‘things like that’?” Taehyung asked after sitting down.

“Things like fate? Uh, I guess other supernatural things? Would that fall in the supernatural category?” you didn’t know how to answer.

“Most people think of demons or ghosts when they hear the word ‘supernatural’,” Taehyung answered.

“Ok, then maybe it’s some sort of omnipresent power. Who knows. Either way, life is easier if you believe in more things than the shit you can see,” you shrugged.

“Do you believe in supernatural things too?” he asked quietly.

“Like demons or ghosts?” you sat down beside him.

“Sure. Maybe even monsters too. Like werewolves or vampires,” he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Werewolves or vampires? I don’t think those exist, silly. Or if they do, I’ve never met one,” you laugh.

What was he trying to do? Vampires never expose their true identities until their prey is on death’s doorstep. Is he about to attack?

Your body clenches up. You’re unarmed at the moment. The closest weapon to you is in your room, which is more than 15 feet away. If he attacks you right now, you’re dead. How could you be so stupid? You can’t believe that you let your guard down.

“Hopefully you never meet one then, if they do exist. I’m sure they’re quite scary,” Taehyung nodded, interrupting your thoughts, “I wanted to take you on a picnic, but the storm outside says otherwise. I brought the food too. Would you like to eat it here?”

“A picnic? Aw, that would have been so cute. Sure, we can eat here. Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?”

“We can watch a movie after we eat, if that’s okay with you. Again, I’m kind of old school, I guess. I apologize for not being able to take you on a proper date,” he frowned.

You set up your breakfast table as Taehyung retrieved the food. He came back with a stereotypical wicker basket. God, a picnic date would have put you over the moon.

“I made hamburgers. I brought the add ons since I don’t know what you like on them,” he brought out the food, “I also brought fruit and a bottle of wine. Do you drink?”

“I drink occasionally. This all looks incredible. You cook?” you gawked at all the food.

“Occasionally. I grew these fruits myself,” Taehyung looked rather proud of himself as he showed off his strawberries.

He picked one and brought it up to your face to let you examine it. It was a rather small strawberry, but it was as red as a cardinal. You reach forward to bite it, your lips grazing Taehyung’s fingers.

Taehyung let out a small gasp of surprise at your intimate gesture. Whether you were flirting or just being adorable, he couldn’t decipher. He hasn’t felt anything for anyone in centuries. Of every human he has encountered, you were by far the most intriguing.

“This is the sweetest strawberry I’ve ever had!” you cheered as your face contorted when the sugariness set in.

Taehyung laughed at you as he ate one himself, “I’m happy you like them. Please, help yourself to as many as you’d like. Eating them all by myself has been quite lonely.”

The table was finally set, and the meal was laid out beautifully. Taehyung reached out for hamburger buns when you smacked his hand away.

“Did I forget something--” he started to question.

“Phone eats first,” you explained, whipping out your phone to take pictures.

Once you were satisfied with your food photoshoot, you gestured for Taehyung to take his food. He shook his head disapprovingly at you but silently began making his burger.

The medium rare patty was juicy (just the way you like it), and the vegetables tasted as if they had just been picked that morning. Taehyung watched you as you ate, hoping his food was enough to please you.

“How is it? Is everything to your liking? Is the meat too raw?” he asked in a rapid fire succession when he could no longer contain himself.

“Taehyung, this is honestly the best meal I’ve ever had. Everything seems so fresh! And the meat???” you pantomimed a chef’s kiss.

“Thank goodness,” Taehyung let out a long exhale as a wave of relief washed over him, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Maybe later,” you replied as you made your second burger.

“Okay. Just know that this pairs exquisitely with the burgers,” Taehyung said, already making his fourth one.

“Wine and burgers? That’s an odd pairing,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“How would you know? You haven’t even tried it yet,” Taehyung scoffed.

Was he teasing you? Joking around with him felt so natural. You could get used to every meal being like this.

‘Wait. No. Don’t be so naive’, you scolded yourself.

“Ok fine! Pour me a glass so I can see for myself,” you rolled your eyes.

“I really only asked because I wanted to open the bottle already,” Taehyung grinned.

With a now empty bottle and full stomachs, the two of you happily conversed across the table. Your laughs were genuine whenever Taehyung said something outlandish (which he often did). His gaze on you was nothing but fond as he examined your delicate features. Everything about you was alluring, and he could not figure out why.

“Let’s watch a movie,” you suggested, already getting out of your seat.

“We can watch whatever you want,” Taehyung smiled as you took him by the hand to lead him to the couch.

“We can scroll through Netflix to see what they have. You cold?” you asked.

“Technically I’m always cold,” Taehyung answers quickly, but then rushes to add, “Because it’s always a little chilly here.”

“Sure, okay. Well, I’m cold so I’m gonna use this blanket,” you dropped down beside him.

Taehyung awkwardly shifted to give you more room. You scooted even closer to him. Again, he tried to scoot away to give you some space.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to cuddle with me under the blanket? Body warmth goes a long way,” you offered bluntly.

“I...would that be okay with you?” Taehyung shyly glanced at you.

“I asked, so yes of course it would be okay, silly,” you threw the blanket over him.

You snuggled up beside him as you scrolled through Netflix. At first, Taehyung was extremely tense. Over time, you felt him begin to relax, and he even began to lean into you. Eventually, you got him to wrap his arm around you. You could feel the coolness of his skin even through his sweater, but that’s to be expected. In all honesty, you forgot what he was for a little bit.

Now would be the perfect time to end it all. He has let his guard down, his eyes glued to the TV screen. You glanced at him, admiring his side profile. There was no way a mere human could look that handsome. His lips moved slightly as he read the movie titles to himself. He realized you were watching him, and returned your gaze.

“Can I help you, ___?” he asked quietly.

“Possibly, if you’d like,” you whispered back.

“I would help you with anything, my dear ___,” Taehyung replied.

“Kiss me?” you say just inches away from his lips.

Taehyung obliged, bringing his hand to your cheek to guide you to him. His icy thumb trailed along your cheek down to your lips. You hesitated, looking at him with doe eyes. Not once have you ever felt nervous about kissing someone. It never mattered. But here, with him, everything was different.

Taehyung leaned in, pressing his plush lips against yours. You embraced the coolness of his lips as it somehow felt refreshing. You finally dove in headfirst, greeting his gentle kiss with your own. Soon, the gentleness became harsher as you kissed him deeper.

Now straddling his lap, the prospect of movie watching had been forgotten. The blanket was tossed aside as Taehyung’s hands began to roam across your back.

Your tongues intertwined wherever they met, be it in his mouth or yours. You pulled back slightly so you could remove your shirt before Taehyung stopped you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, will you let me kiss those lips that I have foolishly been missing for all my life?” Taehyung softly requested, running his hand through your hair.

There was nothing you could say to express what you felt in that moment. Never before has anyone wooed you like this. You granted his request by pulling him into you. Every act of intimacy felt so personal. Almost as if there was a real connection.

After more kissing, you sank back to lay beside Taehyung. This time, you sprawled out on the couch and rested your head on his lap. Taehyung smiled down at you as he stroked your hair.

“On a scale of 1-10, how was this date?” he asked.

“Solid 9.”

“Why not a 10?”

“You didn’t want to see me with my shirt off.”

“What! It’s not like I don’t want to! Pardon my vulgarity, but I want to see you with everything off.”

“Then why didn’t you let me strip?” you were genuinely curious.

“I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he started twirling your hair between his fingers.

“I was obviously wanting to take my shirt off,” you giggled. He starts to open his mouth to reply but you cut him off, “But thank you. I really appreciate that, Taehyung. You really are such a gentleman.”

“I try to be, anyway,” he said.

“What do you want to do for our next date?” you inquire.

“Next date? Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” Taehyung teased you, “Would you like to take a walk around my estate?”

“You’re taking me on a walk? Am I a dog to you?” you feign being offended, but now Taehyung understands when you’re being playful.

“If you were a dog you’d be a cute little pomeranian. Adorable and tiny. All bark and no bite,” Taehyung boops your nose.

“If you were a dog you’d be a chihuahua. Annoying,” you quickly retorted.

“Not true. I feel like I’m more dignified, like a Great Dane or a Doberman,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Sure thing, silly. A walk actually sounds relaxing. As long as you can promise me that it won’t be raining, I’d love to go on a walk with you,” you finally answered him.

“The storm should clear up in three days. Can I come pick you up then?”

“I can drive myself.”

“But I want to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“To be chivalrous. But also so that I can see you sooner,” Taehyung looked away in embarrassment.

“Aw, are you gonna miss me?” you teased.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Taehyung teased back.

You repositioned yourself back to straddling his lap. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him like a koala. He chuckled and hugged you back as he thought about how adorable you were.

This seemingly innocent gesture had not so innocent motives. You began to rub yourself against his groin. Your panties were beginning to soak under your skirt. Taehyung didn’t protest. Instead, you heard him breathing in deeply as you rubbed against him harder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a tone you haven’t heard before.

“Giving you a reason to miss me,” you answered.

Your hand snaked between your thighs to tease his clothed erection. He sighed as you took hold of him. You felt him up through his pants, and you pleasantly figured out that he’s well endowed. Just the thought of him fucking you with his huge cock made your mouth water.

“Can I make you feel good?” you seductively whispered into his ear.

“You can do whatever you want with me, I’m all yours,” he replied.

You get off, and kneel before him. You asked him to remove his pants and underwear as you tied up your hair. He obediently followed your request.

Your eyes widened as his cock was revealed. Just like you thought, its impressive length was matched by its delectable girth. It even curved down slightly, which for some reason turned you on even more.

You pumped him slowly as you admired his dick. Soon, you began to tease him by swirling your tongue around his tip. Taehyung groaned and clutched your ponytail. You looked up at him to see that his eyes were shut and his mouth was wide open.

You licked up his length while you fondled his balls. Taehyung tightened his grip on your ponytail, urging you to stop teasing him. Finally, you wrapped your lips around him as you began to suck him off. The wet sounds echoed around the room. You started your pace off slowly, but gradually picked up. Your hands followed your lips as you bounced up and down. You gagged every time he hit the back of your throat. Feeling the walls of your throat spasm around him caused Taehyung to moan even louder. Tears welled in your eyes as he held himself inside your mouth longer.

In an attempt to let yourself breathe, you went back to swirling around his tip. His dick was now covered in your saliva, so you firmly pumped him while you worked on his tip.

“K-keep going. Just like that. I’m gonna--” Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence before cumming in your mouth.

His cum was surprisingly hot as it exploded into your mouth and dribbled down your chin.

“How was that?” you asked as you wiped away his cum with the back of your hand.

Taehyung was slouching against the couch, still panting. He pulled you back onto his lap before answering, “I had a reason to miss you before, but now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Oh? What was your reasoning before?” you cooed.

“I believe I have formulated a crush on you,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Damn, that sucks,” you shrugged, “Sucks that I have a crush on you too.”

“___,” Taehyung said softly.

“Yes?” you gazed up at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend? I know we haven’t known each other long but--”

“Yes. I’d be honored to be your girlfriend,” you embraced him, “You still wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, my darling. Let’s do that,” Taehyung squeezed you, almost a little too tight, but you didn’t mind.

“Moana!” you exclaimed as you stumbled upon it.

“Isn’t this a children’s movie?” Taehyung said in protest.

“Yes. It’s also great. Judging by your reaction, you’ve never seen it before so we’re gonna change that,” you clicked on the movie and instantly threw away the remote.

The rest of the day was spent watching Moana. Taehyung was amused by how you knew each song and sang along with the movie. He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed the movie. It was beautifully animated and he appreciated the deep meanings behind it.

You walked Taehyung to the door after the movie ended. He tenderly kissed your cheek as you hugged him goodbye.

“So, I’ll come pick you up in three days time?” Taehyung wanted to clarify.

“No, I’m driving myself over to your place,” you stood your ground.

“As you like,” Taehyung pouted. He’s never done that before. Seeing his cute little puppy eyes almost made you change your mind. You ushered him out before you could do so.

You watched him drive into the distance as the rain poured. It had been storming all day. You couldn’t contain how giddy Taehyung made you feel. You had a boyfriend! Your very first boyfriend, and he was practically a god.

Well, he was a vampire. That you were sent to exterminate.

Your heart deflated at the thought. How could you be so stupid? You got so caught up in the act that you actually let yourself get carried away.

However, this didn’t feel like an act anymore. If anything, Taehyung knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

What if...you just never went back to the VEC? Maybe you could convince Taehyung to run away with you.

No, that would be impossible. The VEC had eyes everywhere, and were capable of anything. For the first time in your life, you didn’t want to kill someone. Your perpetual anger at the world dispelled itself whenever you were with Taehyung.

Instead of calling Yoongi, you decided to text him.

[7:36pm] Still alive. This job is gonna be a long one, but I got it handled. I won’t reach out again until the job is done.

[7:36pm from Yoongles] K

Perfect. That should keep Yoongi off of your ass for a while. At least a month.

The days that you didn’t see Taehyung felt like an eternity. You went to the shop to keep up appearances, but just watched anime on your laptop the whole time.

The elderly couple from before showed up at the shop again. You contently watched them admire the flowers as they walked hand in hand. They brought up the same arrangement of flowers as last time.

“You look different today, dear,” the woman observed.

“Oh yeah? How so, ma’am?” you smiled politely.

“Oh, you’re right dear! She seems happier somehow, the air about her is lighter,” the man nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps now she’s in love. At the very least, there’s someone she’s thinking about right now. Good for you dear! I hope it all works out,” the woman patted your hand as you handed the flowers back over to her. You simply laughed with them as they exited the shop, but your smile dropped as soon as they were out of sight. Their words resonated with you. You’re not in love. That’s absurd. However, you can't deny your fat crush on Taehyung. It’ll subside once you dispose of him. At least, that’s what you think to reassure yourself.

The day of your second date with Taehyung had arrived. It was weird not being able to text or call him. All your previous assignments that took more time loved sexting you. Taehyung was by far your most peculiar case.

The rainfall had finally subsided as you drove over to Taehyung’s estate. The jewelry you wore was crafted to hold small amounts of holy water, perfect for poisoning a vampire’s food. You dabbled in the art of poison in your free time, and managed to develop a toxin that would instantly immobilize even the strongest of vampires. You kept a vial of that on you at all times. You even equipped your best dagger, hiding it within your clothing.

You took a deep breath as you pulled up to the driveway. Today could be the day. If he gave you an opening, you had to take it. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself.

‘He doesn’t care about you. He only wants to feed on you,’ You repeated those accusatory thoughts to yourself in the hopes of actually believing in them.

Taehyung was waiting for you, sitting on the ledge of the rundown fountain. He happily waved at you as you walked up to greet him.

“___! How are you? How was the drive?” Taehyung kissed your cheeks as soon as you were within reach.

“I’m doing well, how have you been? The drive was uneventful, but I’m sure you’re used to that driving around here,” you giggled at his friendliness.

Taehyung was as stoic as a statue when you first met him. Now, he was a sweet talkative guy with boyish charms.

“It’s quiet around here. But that’s why I like it. Shall we begin our walk? There are so many things I want to show you!” Taehyung took your hand and tugged you along.

Weaving his icy fingers with yours, you struggled to keep up with his pace.

“Taehyung! Slow down, we have all day,” you cried out.

“Sorry, my darling. I just haven’t been this excited in a very long time,” Taehyung apologized.

“How long?” you poked.

“Centuries,” he smiled. You knew he wasn’t lying. You giggled to play along with his joke.

His estate had vast grounds. At first glance, it seemed like the property was overgrown, but you realized you were wrong the further away you ventured.

Taehyung was following a small trail that looked like it had been worn out through the years. The treeline got thicker as you guys walked along, progressively turning into a forest. Taehyung was talking the whole time. He was spouting facts and stories about the various plants you stumbled across.

‘So it’s not just flowers. He just really loves nature,’ you thought to yourself.

“Am I boring you? You haven’t said a thing,” Taehyung looked back at you.

“Not at all! I’m learning a lot. I’m intently listening to you, I promise,” you hold out a pinky to him. Taehyung wraps his pinky around yours and continues to lead you down the trail.

“Oh! This is my lake. Do you like to fish?” Taehyung asked as you entered a small clearing.

A dock jutted off of the shoreline of an expansive lake. The lake went on as far as the eye can see. You could barely make out the treeline on the other side.

“This is your lake? You own the entire thing?” you asked in amazement.

“It’s all within my property lines, so yes,” Taehyung nodded, “Do you like fishing, dear?”

“Fishing is okay I guess. I prefer to eat the fish,” you answered, “Maybe we could kayak or something here?”

“Noted. I have a small rowboat we can take out to the middle sometime. You can take a nap while I fish,” Taehyung jokes.

“Sounds like a fine date to me,” you replied.

“Okay! Moving on,” Taehyung (with your pinky still intertwined with his) spun you around and led you back to the trail.

Next, he led you to his garden. He pointed out his strawberry patch, letting you pick the ripest one. He proudly showed you his vegetables too, ranging from lettuce to cucumbers.

“You have such a great green thumb! Every plant I try to raise dies instantly. Even cacti,” you sighed glumly.

“Aw, it’s okay dear. Perhaps you can help me tend to my garden sometime,” Taehyung pecked your cheek.

“Sounds like another fine date,” you returned his kiss with one of your own.

Taehyung explained that the trail goes around his property in a small loop. He had much more land, however he didn't use it for anything. He explained that he values his privacy, but didn’t expound on it. You already knew the reason why anyway.

The treeline began to thin out. Soon, you were traversing through a field of tall ferns. Silently walking through the field, you noticed a patch of ferns that had been crushed, almost as if someone sat on them.

Your heart sank. You stopped in your tracks. Your observant eyes saw subtle dark brown spots that littered the patch of squished ferns. This must have been where your parents were found.

You’d been denying the truth this entire trip. Taehyung really had murdered your parents. The proof was right there. He was nothing more than a vampire. A cold blooded killer with only one motive. It was suddenly getting hard to breathe.

“___? ___?” Taehyung shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality, “Are you okay? You suddenly stopped walking and spaced out.”

“I’m good! Sorry, I thought I saw something,” you reassured him.

“What did you see?” he asked.

“I thought I saw a rabbit. Then my thoughts wandered to rabbits and I guess I got caught up in it,” you lied.

“Ah, I understand. I do that all the time,” Taehyung patted your head.

All the warm feelings you had towards him were gone. They were replaced by anger and hatred, the feelings you should have had the whole time. You were going to kill him today. He just needed to put himself in a vulnerable position.

“We’re almost back to the house. Would you like some tea?” Taehyung offered.

“That would be perfect,” you smiled. Perfect indeed. All you had to do was slip in some holy water. His mouth will burn upon impact, giving you the perfect opportunity to swoop in for the kill.

He led you into his house through the back door. The interior was surprisingly modern with a sleek minimalist style. Despite the exterior looking like it was from the Victorian era, the inside was furnished with simple black furniture to compliment the light grey walls.

“It’s not much,” Taehyung said when he noticed you looking around, “I live alone so there’s no need to make this place feel inviting. Well, at least there was no need.”

You faked a smile at his comment.

“Make yourself at home, dear. The dining table is over there. I'll bring the tea when it’s ready,” Taehyung planted a soft kiss against your forehead.

A shiver ran down your spine. The once sweet gesture now felt like a threat. Your leg bounced uncontrollably as you waited for Taehyung to join you. Now is the time. It’s now or never.

He placed an ornate teacup atop a fancy saucer in front of you. You graciously accepted it.

“This is my favorite flavor, I hope you like it,” Taehyung said as he lifted his cup to you.

You mimicked his action, clinking your cups. Bringing the cup to your lips, you take your first sip. It was sweeter than expected, but the flavor was pleasant overall.

“Can you guess what flavor it is?” Taehyung asked.

“Something fruity...blackberry?” you answered.

“Close! It’s raspberry. Raspberries tend to be less tart than blackberries,” he explained, “Oh! I have the perfect cake to pair with this too! I’m a bit of a foodie if you hadn’t noticed.”

“All that walking made me hungry so that sounds great,” you replied.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he smiled before departing.

His drink was left unattended, giving you the opportunity to tamper with it. You debated whether you should put in holy water or your special poison. You decide to go with the holy water, that way you can still talk to him after you restrain him. With a quick push of a hidden button on your ring, a few droplets of holy water fell into Taehyung’s tea.

Taehyung returned with a small lemon cake, placing it between the saucers. He cut you a slice before serving himself. Eagerly waiting for you to take the first bite, he looked pleased when a smile crept on your face.

“This is delicious! Where’d you buy it?” you asked.

“I made it myself! I finally perfected it after a bunch of trial and error,” he beamed as he began to eat his slice.

“Let’s toast to this occasion, to celebrate the beginning of a new relationship,” you held out your cup. You’re ready to pounce as soon as he takes a sip. The concealed weapon hidden in your sleeve was prepped and ready to spring out as soon as you attacked.

“A toast to this momentous occasion,” Taehyung held his cup out. It’s nearly time. He paused for a second.

“Can I say something first?” Taehyung lowered his cup.

“Of course, is something wrong?” you tried to conceal the panic in your voice. Had he finally caught on? Your body tensed up as you prepared for a fight.

“Nothing is wrong, dear. I just...I want to get something off my chest,” he took a deep breath, “I had been extremely bored with life for God knows how long. I value my security and seclusion for personal reasons, however I never craved for interactions with anyone. I’ve preferred to be alone for the longest time. Mostly because I don’t want to cause problems for anyone anymore. The last time I interacted with people it ended rather poorly.”

You set your cup down to listen to him, fully engaged in his speech while still being on high alert.

“Everything changed when I met you. I can’t explain it. Normally I would have shooed you away, but something about you made me want to help you. Maybe my interest in flowers got the better of me, who knows? Then, I had the pleasure of getting to know you more when I made the bouquets with you. I can’t tell you the last time I had a genuine conversation with someone. Everything feels so natural with you. I want you to know that I will never hurt you. I will never lie to you. I despise lies above all else. Lastly, I wanted to thank you. Thank you for taking the wrong turn and stumbling into my life. I’m excited to start a new chapter with you, ___.”

You were speechless. Not one word of his was laced with magic. His speech was pure and genuine. How can someone this thoughtful be capable of murdering your parents?

“What happened to the people you last interacted with?” you questioned.

Taehyung flinched at your response. Out of all the things he said, that’s what you chose to respond to? Taehyung shook his apprehension away and chalked it up to your curiosity.

“Many years ago I lost someone I was very fond of. I suppose I never wanted to go through that pain ever again,” he answered solemnly. That’s not what you meant to ask. You were intrigued but needed answers to more pressing matters first.

“So you’ve never interacted with anyone since then?” you pressed the issue.

“Well I had some nuisances bothering me somewhat recently but I don’t think that is important,” Taehyung averted his gaze from you.

“Nuisances? How so?” you expertly concealed your growing rage.

“They wouldn’t leave me alone after I politely asked them to vacate my property,” he curtly answered.

“Why were they here?” you prodded.

“Does that matter?” Taehyung’s voice rose, causing you to shrink into your chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we’re together now. We can take on the world together, you and me. I want to give you the world, darling,” Taehyung quickly apologized after seeing that he startled you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You really are the best gentleman I have ever met. Thanks for loving flowers so much that you ended up talking to me, I guess,” you smiled politely as you lifted your cup.

Now you were conflicted. Surely there was more to the story between him and your parents. You needed answers. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be violent at all. His kindhearted nature made it hard to believe that he was capable of such atrocities.

“Cheers, darling,” Taehyung clinked your cup.

You watched intently as he brought his cup to his lips. His movements seemed to be happening in slow motion, torturing you.

“Wait!” you cried out, “Let’s switch cups. For good luck.”

“Huh?” Taehyung lowered his cup in confusion.

“I used to do that with my parents. We’d switch cups at the last minute for good luck,” you lied. Hopefully Taehyung would buy into it.

“Sure. What an interesting notion,” Taehyung observed as he switched cups with you.

“The key is doing it last minute, that way luck won’t escape you,” you admonished yourself for such a shitty explanation.

“That makes sense,” Taehyung nodded thoughtfully. Thank god he’s a bit odd.

You drank the cup containing the holy water. You could have easily killed Taehyung today, but you needed to know more about your parent’s death. The VEC wasn’t going to tell you jack shit. Perhaps it was time to go a little rogue.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanshadowfamily #ksmutclub #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung vampire #vampire bts #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

Text

Lettenhove Au

Part 1 Part 2

Oh how unreasonable.

“Dear did you finish those logging reports?” His mother stepped into the office. Head buried in a logistics report.

“Just did. Here.” He offered them to her but her eyes were stuck behind him.

On Geralt.

“You must be my son’s new bodyguard.” He watched Geralt hesitantly nod out of the corner of his eye. “I hadn’t expected you to be quite so…”

“Old?” He suggested for her. “You won’t offend him by being direct. He does have- oh what?- Half a century or so on you. It’s only fair.”

Her brow pinched. Her fingers rubbed together nervously as she glanced back to him. “Julian I know numbers aren’t your forte but he can’t be-“

They knew exactly the moment the gold in his eyes registered.

A tiny back step. Half a sharp inhale.

“A Witcher?” She looked at him. Hand covering her agape mouth. “How? How did you-“

He readied himself to explain when her eyes widened. “The white wolf.”

They both tensed as she rounded the desk to him.

She cupped his face in her hands. You are the man who kept him from me. You are the bastard he abandoned me for. He braced for her to say. As so many of the women in his life had.

“Thank you.” Her tears freezing Geralt more effectively than any spell he’d ever seen. “For protecting him all those years. Thank you.” Geralt eyes stayed locked on her. Trapped by her thin hands. “For bringing him home.”

He was halfway out of his chair he’d realized. He eased back down into it. Who he’d worried for he wasn’t sure.

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do.

“Julian!” His mother burst into the room. Letter in hand. “The Countess responded!”

Geralt looked up from his sword sharpening, hands stilling. Ciri shrunk behind him, further into the couch they’d settled into that night. It was honestly a relief for the too familiar noise to halt. It made the space behind his eyes hot. It’s steady rhythmic sound as horrible as it had once been calming.

They’d been moved into the servant’s quarters attached to his room in case someone came for him in the night.

He stood and seized her by the waist. Picking her up and spinning her, as he knew she wished he would for she was very excited, her dress billowing around her. The way Father had when he’d courted her all those years ago. She’d admitted to him once she missed it. It was one of the few things she missed about him.

What do you need? He’d asked. He knew how to play his role diligently.

“As I promised she would!” He smiled brightly for her. It was as fake as the rings that had dyed his fingers green years ago. But she didn’t know that.

“A Countess Julek! I’ve no idea how you managed this!” She was well above their class. But she’d loved him once. With a title she might love him again.

“What did I say?” He gently put her down and swept her into a waltz. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to waltz. She told him.

“Trust me.” There were tears in her eyes. A brightness to her he couldn’t remember ever seeing.

He spun her. “I said I would take care of things.” Dipped her gently to the familiar tune in his head. It sounded flat even though he knew it was in tune. “Didn’t I?”

“You did!” Her steps faltered as she pulled him into a tight hug. It might have been bone crushing a decade or two ago. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Of course.” Geralt and Ciri watch him tuck her into his shoulder. He whispered above her grey hair. “I had nowhere else to be.”

I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m standing here maybe.

“You’re getting married.” Geralt stated as the door closed behind her.

“That is the plan yes.”

“You’ll be miserable.”

And how, he thought, is that any different from how I am now?

Everyone will think I’m alright.

Court was easy. Simple.

Deadly. Dangerous.

It was just about saying the right thing. Listening. Not giving away too much.

“There are some rumors going around about you Julian.” She fluttered her eyes distractingly. Let her sleeve slip down just so. He’d seen it before. Hell he’d done it before.

That didn’t mean it didn’t work on him.

Or. It used to.

“About what happened to you after you disappeared.” She leaned in making a point to show off her assets.

The color of her dress was brilliant. Vibrant. His collar was buttoned all the way up. It didn’t actually make it hard to breathe but it still felt like it. He recognized the dye they must have used. It seemed less. Less everything.

Course the courts in Kerack hardly compared to the ones he’d played at so it was likely just. Less.

It had nothing to do with how dull the world seemed these days.

“I went to Oxenfurt. I hardly disappeared.” He flashed her a smile. Winked as he said, “And I’d be happy to show you what I learned.”

She giggled.

“What did you study?” Interjected her handler. Forcing distance between them with practiced ease.

He’d never been grateful for the restraints of court. How a hand touch outside of dancing was as scandalous as a long passionate kiss elsewhere.

He was grateful for it now.

“A variety of things. Geography was my favorite.” The textbook was big enough to hide a demijohn behind. “And I took to teaching for a few years.”

Her eyes glittered. “Did you ever see any of the places you learned about?” Whatever information she’d been told to gather forgotten to the wonder of the world beyond their logging forest and rocky coasts.

Or maybe this was what she wanted. The machinations of a country this small didn’t have to be terribly inspired.

“A few.” He granted. The back of his throat tensed. I went to the edge of the world and back before my eighteenth year. He didn’t say. “Any place in particular you were hoping to hear about?” He raised his glass for a drink.

“Are the blue mountains really blue?”

His cup paused at his lips. Golden eyes rested heavily on him from across the feast.

Posada sat at the feet of its range. Stretched up to Kaer Morhen and beyond.

“Yes.” He tried to cover for the stilted pause. Gave too much away he knew by the devilish look in her eye. “In the evening light the whole range turns the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen.”

“What does Kaer Morhen look like?” He’d asked. Because he’d never seen it.

Would never see it.

“Big stone keep.”

“Oh come on! We both know you can do better than that!” He’d protested. “I want to know what its like!” Tell me what your home is like. He begged.

“What do you think of Lettenhove?” He asked as the carriage rattled down the road to their accommodations. His Mother had retired hours ago. What do you think about my birthplace? My unwilling home? My soon to be grave?

Geralt opened an eye. Considering him. Just like everyone at the party had. Just like everyone always did. Judging without seeing. He maintained his posture as the snow fell outside the window. He had a role to play.

“Seafood’s decent.”

Laughter bubbled in his throat. High and hysterical.

He swallowed it down.

“I suppose it is.” He told the falling snow. He did not think of the Blue Mountains covered in snow and the big stone keep he would never see buried within it.

I’ve seen enough he says. I know exactly what I want.

“Jaskier!”

There were hands on his shoulder and a knife to his throat and it was all pointless but he was still scared.

He was still scared.

There was gold and white filling his vision as his chest fought for air. He couldn’t breathe and he was going to die and gods.

Gods he was going to die.

And he was okay with it.

“Jaskier?” His face was wet as he sobbed. I was going to die and he was okay with that and that was the scariest part. Someone was moving him. Arranging his limbs and tucking him into the crook of their neck. “It was just a dream Jaskier.”

The dream slipped from his mind but the hollow in his chest didn’t. The violently terrible acceptance of his fate didn’t slip away.

Let’s run away. To the coast, to the blue mountains, to the end of the world. To Skellige even. I’d brave sea sickness for you. Let’s run away Geralt.

Think of your people ordered the ghost of his old man.

Life’s one blessing. Said the man cradling him in his arms.

Stay. Begged his Mother.

He curled into the embrace of the man who’d served as his home for two long decades. For half his life. The half of his life that had a home for.

Geralt was only here because there was no better option. Because a fool promised him a place to stay long ago and that fool wouldn’t break a promise. Not a promise to him.

Did you ever care for me at all? Or am I to you, as I am to everyone, a burden you’re too kind to put down?

No. Because Geralt had put him down. Now he was simply too desperate to step away.

“This is your fate Julian.” Rumbled the voice of his Father.

“I’ll find a better fate then.” He’d screamed back. “I’ll make a better one.”

He had.

“I want to go home.” He quietly admitted into the crook of Geralt’s neck. To the stars over the path and the grinding of a whetstone on silver or steel. To the crackle of a fire and pages filled with ink by its dying embers.

To raunchy laughter and shared bedrolls. Desperate dashes from terrible towns and angry cuckholds. To grumpy Witchers dunked in bathtubs, yanking knots from disgustingly tangled hair and quiet gifts of lute strings made from griffin guts slipping into his case while he slept.

“We’ll be back at the estate tomorrow.” Came the wretched assurance.

He sobbed. “I know.”

You couldn’t run away from fate. Not really.

It’s this life that we’d created, inundated with the fated thought of you

“Geralt said you used to play.” Ciri admitted to the bookshelves she’d been dusting. “He said you played wonderfully.”

“Did he?” He blankly responded. He could feel Geralt frowning at him.

You should have cheekily grinned at me. He could hear Geralt correcting. You should be making fun of me for liking your music but never admitting it to you. Then I could comment on how i didn’t want to feed your overgrown ego.

He checked the ledgers math on the abacus. Then did it again because numbers had never been his forte.

“He said,” She hesitated. Turned ever so slightly to watch him. “You were at my mother’s betrothal.”

Jaskier was. I wasn’t. An angry part of him snapped.

He took in the tight tension of her shoulders. The pointed dedication to a meaningless task.

I see you little swallow. I see you. “I was.” He glanced at the door. If someone overheard. He could avoid this if-

“Everyone’s asleep.” Geralt told him.

“Then,” He stood, weighted heavy by a story he had no desire to tell. “I suppose I owe you a story.” He smiled and offered his hand to her. “Since Geralt never tells it right.”

She took it and he pulled her into the ballad. Into the start of her tale.

Into the beginning of their stories end.

And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all, Like petals in a storm

He lifted her sleeping form from the couch, carrying her to bed.

“Thank you.” Geralt muttered from the doorway as he tucked her in.

He was so tired.

He nodded. Turned from the room.

Geralt caught him at the doorway. “Thank you.” He repeated.

He took in Geralt’s face as he stared at her. As he listened to her slow steady breathing. Sleeping comfortably and warm.

Ask to stay. He begged the hand holding his bicep. Ask me to come with you.

Tell me you want me. He plead. That what you said was a lie.

But he didn’t. Because he was looking at Ciri. At the best thing he’d ever done for Geralt.

At the little girl who was the end of the story they’d shared.

“You love her.” He told him. “Which I say only because I don’t think you know.” Geralt’s face hardened as it always did when faced with an uncomfortable truth about himself. “But you love her Geralt.”

If this was his fate then at least he’d done that.

He couldn’t save his people and he’d broken every relationship he’d ever made and he was going to die in a manor he hated all alone.

But at least he’d done this. At least he’d given Geralt Ciri.

At least he’d given the love of his life the love of his.

cos darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #lettenhove au #tw depression #tw for that awful feeling of being okay with dying #also waltzing #think i figured out how to end this yall!#thank you to the person who suggested Exile. I think that will serve part 4- our conclusion - quite well!#writing #not totally in love with using Fair for this section but its what i had when i wrote it so

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pengychan · 3 years

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[Good Omens] Winging It - Epilogue

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Aaand we finally made it to the end! Which is a beginning in many ways. How is it going to go? Beats me, but it probably won't be boring. Also yes, I am just posting a Christmas-themed chapter right before Easter. So sue me. I had a blast writing this one - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

***

“Unionize Hell. You’re telling me we should unionize. Hell.”

“Well, it would be a first step towards giving you some bargaining power. Once demons begin seeing Satan as someone you can bargain with through the sheer force of numbers, it will be easier to convince them they can decide to walk away.”

“This is the single dumbest idea I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Sitting beside Gabriel, Michael stiffened and glared daggers across the table. “If this is how you believe you can address us, we may as well end the meeting--” she began, only to trail off when Gabriel grinned, resting an elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“That’s blatantly untrue,” he said, still smiling at Beelzebub. “You’d ve heard dumber by far.”

The prince of Hell’s lips curled upwards for the briefest moment. Michael shifted a little on her seat and glanced over at Dagon, who just so happened to be sitting beside Beelzebub for the meeting. She met her gaze briefly, but it was enough for Michael to know she was not the only one to be mighty uncomfortable at the turn Gabriel and Beelzebub’s formerly entirely professional relationship had taken. That was an odd sort of relief.

Unaware of their second-in-command’s discomfort, or just blatantly ignoring it, Beelzebub let out a thoughtful, buzzing sound. “... Hmph, I suppose I have. But I am ready to be you are not inclined to have the Heavenly host unionize.”

“Ah, actually,you’d lose that bet. We have given the go-ahead.”

The Lord of the Flies blinked. “... You have?”

“Yes. It worked out for my friends back in Southampton, so I figured, why not Heaven?”

Michael briefly wondered if she was supposed to remind Gabriel that Heaven was not precisely the same as a port city on England’s south coast, but in the end she decided against it. She was a warrior, had always been, but a good warrior knows how to pick battles and that was not the hill she was ready to, figuratively speaking, die on.

Across the table, Beelzebub raised an eyebrow while waving away a few fies “And God is not displeased?”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back on his seat and spreading his arms a little. “I have not been fired yet, and I am taking it as a good sign. I suppose it may create a precedent for angels to leave, if so they wish, on more amicable terms than you did. And possibly with some severance. Who knows, perhaps if you had formed a union in the first place instead of going immediately for full-on rebellion--”

All right, they got sidetracked far enough. “Gabriel,” Michael spoke up.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Apologies. Never mind the past. What I am saying is, it might be a viable path forward now - for beings on either side. Do give it some thought.”

“Mmh.” Beelzebub crossed their arms, leaning back against their seat with a foot braced against the table. To Michael’s surprise - and to Dagon’s utter bewilderment, it seemed - they seemed to be truly giving it some thought. “I suppose that perhaps, this does fall into the ‘so dumb it might just work’ caregory. And it’d make Hell worse for Reagan and Thatcher. I will consider it.”

“Very well. I do believe that concludes the meeting.” Gabriel said, and smiled. He’d been smiling an awful lot throughout the meeting, and not the kind of insincere business-like smiles he would usually sport on such occasions.

No, Michael thought, not usually. Before.

“Actually, there’s more we need to discuss,” Beelzebub said, standing. “Privately, if possible.”

“Ah, of course. Right this way. You’re all right wrapping this up, Michael?”

Trying with all her might not to wonder about their private discussion, Michael nodded mechanically. “Of course,” she droned, and busied herself picking up papers once they were gone, trying to ignore the demon who was very much not gone.

“... For the record, the cold shoulder treatment only works if the one receiving it cares about getting the cold shoulder,” Dagon spoke up after a few minutes, filing papers away in a folder she had seemingly summoned out of thin air. “And I do not care.”

And yet you had to remark on that.

Michael let out a snort, choosing not to argue. She hadn’t been trying to remember the being they had known before their rebellion and Falls, or at least not as hard as Gabriel probably wished her to - Sandalphon and Uriel were fairly ahead of her there - but she did have the uncomfortable sensation she had known Dagon, whatever she was called before, quite well.

Awkward, considering she was rather certain it had been her to cast her out.

“Have you had any success in tracking down the Duke of Hell?”

“Hell has a great many Dukes. You will need to be more specific.”

“I believe there is only one who is currently a fugitive,” Michael said, her voice sharper. “Hastur. The one who kille-- who almost-- sort of killed Gabriel.”

“... We lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but I am certain we will catch up with him eventually.”

“Are you always this inefficient?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try catching him yourself,” Dagon snarled, snapping the folder shut. It seemed the perfect moment for her to disappear in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, but she did not; rather, the Lord of the Files seemed to hesitate. Michael had just enough time to wonder if she may have remembered something from before that Michael did not before she finally looked up and spoke again.

“All right, since we are suddenly supposed to have opinions now, what do you really think of this… entire… thing?”

“You mean, Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plan?”

“Calling it a plan seems more generous than I’ve ever known you to be.”

That was true, Michael had to concede. When she had tried asking Gabriel if there was a plan they should know of, he’d only replied that he was ‘sort of winging it’. It certainly was a complete u-turn from how things used to be, but if he had been brought back and… not yet cast out again over his unorthodox involvement with Beelzebub, there had to be a reason.

Perhaps whatever he had learned in his time on Earth would be the key to everything. After what she had done to him by blindly following orders, Michael was willing to heed his words now, and so were the others. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would face whatever consequences there may be as one. Never again would she lift a sword on her friends.

“... No, it is not a plan,” she finally said. “I suppose it is more of a leap of faith.”

“Faith in what?” Dagon made a face. “In God?”

Michael did not take the bait. “More in our own ability to figure things out, I suppose.”

“That’s the sort of thing humanity is all about,” the Lord of the Files muttered, and blinked when Michael let out a brief laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is precisely the point. Try being more human.”

“... Have you hit your head? From the beginning of everything, it has always been human who tried to become more like u--” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose as though she had just sunk her fangs into a lemon. “You. More like you. And from the beginning, you have encouraged that.”

“Maybe that is where we went wrong after all.”

A pause. “Are you seriously suggesting it should be you-- us-- to lower ourselves into being more like them? Really?”

“Well. It is what Yeshua did, and perhaps it was a lesson meant for us,” Michael shrugged, and tuned to the door. “After all it was humanity, and not us, to be made in God’s image.”

***

“Oh, look at that. Another wedding invitation.”

“Shadwell and Madame Tracy?”

“How did you guess?”

“They made it abundantly clear during Anathema and Whatshisface’s wedding reception.”

“Ah, fair. Do you think they’ll allow us to take Warlock to their wedding as well? He got on well with the Them, and Madame Tracy has surely invited those children.”

“Can’t see why not. Are you sure they meant to invite us?”

“This is marked for the Serpent of Eden and the Southern Pansy.They did mean to indeed.”

“No clause against witches?”

“Oh, there is. It is to be a witch-free wedding. The only exceptions to the rule are dear Anathema, Adam, the two of us, and the bride herself.”

“You’d think that by now he would have noticed she only has two nipples.”

“Don’t be crass, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think he’ll ever stop thinking we’re witches?”

“Unlikely. And I am not particularly inclined to disrobe and let him count nipples.”

A hiss. “Old fool.”

“An old fool who managed to swindle both of us for a few decades.”

“... Don’t remind me.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and settled more comfortably in his armchair, setting aside the letters to pick up a book. Wrapped around the back of said armchair, the Serpent of Eden leaned his head on top of Aziraphale’s own. He tended to enjoy inhabiting that form, Aziraphale had found out, when the weather outside was cold and the fireplace was lit.

Amazing, how many more little things about Crowley he’d found he didn’t know, after so many centuries of… acquaintance. Sharing a home with someone really did lead to a lot of interesting discoveries. For one, he could now see the appeal of laying in a bed and hallucinating behind closed eyelids for a few hours.

“I could make my entrance in a cloud of Hellfire,” Crowley muttered, tongue flicking against Aziraphale’s hair as he reached to pick up a book.

“I suspect giving the groom a heart attack would put a damper on the wedding.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“No, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached up to scratch the scales on Crowley’s side.

He hissed again. “Spoilsport,” he said, but he leaned into the touch all the same.

“Heh. Either way, we have plenty of time to make plans for the wedding, whereas Christmas is around the corner. Do you have anything in particular in mind, Crowley?”

“You do realize demons don’t really celebrate the birthday of your boss’ son, right?”

“Ah, I suppose that’s fair. But I wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in, perhaps bake some cake,” he said, faintly wondering whether Crowley would object to mistletoe.

“Oh. Well, then I could help with the tasting, I guess. And-- wait. There are presents, right? Do you want presents?”

A chuckle “I am rather content as is, but thank you.”

“Ah. Of course,” Crowley seemed to stammer, which was no mean feat considering he currently had a mouth whose anatomy was not meant to utter words in the first place. His head slipped lower, and ended up resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “... You wouldn’t happen to know anything about whatever Heaven’s planning, would you? Things have been… quiet.”

“Not at all. Nor you have the foggiest idea as to what Hell is on to, I’m guessing?”

“Nothing whatsoever. I think I’ll wish them luck and keep it this way.”

Aziraphale smiled, took a sip of wine, and opened his book. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

When he tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of his head, Crowley did not protest.

***

Did you throw out another of your angels?

Not to my knowledge?

You must have. Someone just got through all layers of Hell all the way down to Satan’s lap. Sliding down a pole and singing. What the Heaven is going on up there?

Let me check with Uriel.

***

“Uriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of any angels being cast out? Beelzebub insists someone just got there, and I quote, ‘sliding down a pole’.”

“We have cast out no one. Their security must be really lax. Didn’t they have a similar problem with a poet from Florence at some point?”

“I don’t think that one came in sliding down a pole, but fair.”

***

I can confirm we cast out no one. Must be a mortal.

Wonderful, more paperwork and security checks. Thanks for checking, I guess. At least he seems to be keeping Satan distracted from anything we do.

Dare I ask how?

Don’t.

All right. Have you changed your mind about coming with me to the Christmas party?

Absolutely not. But I will meet you afterwards for carnal relations.

Are you aware that it does not count as a sin and therefore it is not the middle finger to God you think it is?

Are you saying you’re not interested?

No. Usual place?

Usual place. Don’t be late.

I wouldn’t dare, Gabriel wrote with a smile, and his finger lingered over the send button for a few moments. I love you, he almost wrote, but he did not and in the end he just sent out the message as it was. Beelzebub would have found it both saccharine-inducing and redundant, and for good reason. There was no need to spell it out, really.

They were both very much aware of it.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for usual celebrations?”

“Rather certain, yes. My former colleagues on Earth invited me to join them so long ago, it would be rude for me to cancel on them.”

“Yeshua might actually show up this year.”

“Ah, I am doubtful. He never did attend his birthday party, did he now?”

That was true, although not something any of them had really felt entitled to comment on. Sandalphon knew that Gabriel had taken it… not quite as a slight, but close enough. After all, the celebration was about a birth whose annunciation he was most widely known for.

Now, on the other hand, he seemed too taken with the idea of celebrating it on Earth to be bothered in the slightest. “... I suppose he didn’t,” Uriel conceded. Gabriel closed the drawer with the last of his work for the calendar year, straightened his tie, and smiled.

“Why don’t you come with me? You could use getting to know more humans, too.”

Both Michael and Sandalphon blinked. Uriel raised an eyebrow. “To celebrate Yeshua’s birthday on Earth with them?”

“Why not? I am sure they won’t mind if I bring some friends. And you could use a break, Uriel. You’ve been working on reorganizing the lower spheres for months now.”

“You know I do not get tired,” Uriel informed him, but she was already glancing over at Michael and Sandalphon.

In the end, it was Michael to shrug. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be interesting to see how the celebrations have changed since last time I took a look. They were not precisely cheerful, back then.”

“... When was the last time you did check?”

“Sometimes in the mid-fourteenth century,” she replied, and Gabriel laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah,” he said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

***

“... And this is why it’s either panettone or pandoro, and anyone claiming not to take a side is coward and a liar, and--”

Fabrizio rambled on, clearly rather satisfied to have finally found an attentive listener in Sandalphon, and Gabriel chose not to interrupt him. Somewhere at the other side of the room, Łukasz was staring in absolute disbelief as Uriel drank the twenty-second shot in a row without seemingly feeling any effects, and he might just be starting to fall in love.

As he stepped towards the door and passed by a table, Gabriel chuckled. “Go easy on them,” he muttered, and Michael just raised an eyebrow at him, effortlessly beating yet another warehouse worker at an arm wrestling match. In the end, Gabriel decided that as long as the only thing getting bruised were egos, there was no reason to intervene.

He stepped outside into a cold, clear night. No comet in the sky, but he had felt a pull to come out all the same. He let his gaze wander down the street and there it was - a shadow crouched in an archway, barely illuminated by a street light and covered in blankets as he tried to keep warm. Somehow, the blinking lights of Christmas decorations on the building made the figure seem even more lonely. And that wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all - especially not that night.

“Excuse me,” Gabriel called out, approaching the man. “Would you like to come inside? It is quite cold, and my friends and I are having a party - I am sure they wouldn’t mind.”

The man looked up. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal dark brown eyes, and his features were just barely illuminated by the street light - but it was enough for Gabriel to trail off, taken off guard. The man smiled.

“Thank you for your offer, Gabriel. I think I’ll take you up on this one.”

Ah. Well. It made sense, come to think of it. He’d always been original like that. Past the initial surprise, Gabriel straightened himself and smiled. “Any particular name I ought to call you by tonight?”

“In this time and age, Joshua will do. It's nice to see you guys paying more attention to humanity. I look back fondly on my first lifetime among them. Most of it at any rate,” Yeshua added, and stood. He straightened his back with a groan. “Ow, my spine.”

Gabriel was unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is this how you’ve been spending your birthday for the past two-something thousand years?” he asked. Until not too long ago, he would have been offended by the notion. Now he felt rather foolish for not having thought of it.

“More or less. No offense, but I enjoy Earth. Corporate events were never quite my thing.”

“None taken. I hope your mother is well?”

“The one who cast you out of Heaven, or the one who hit you in the head with a clay vase?”

“... The latter.”

“Ah, yes. She is very well. Still rather sorry about the incident, but maintains you should have knocked if you didn’t want a vase to your head.”

“That’s… understandable. But we have amended records to omit that part, so no harm done.”

“I am aware. So, is there anything I may do to thank you for your hospitality tonight?”

“... Do you still do the thing with the water and wine? Because I believe we’re running low.”

A laugh. “Ah, yes,” he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as they headed back inside. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

Somewhere, Crowley is losing his entire MIND over the fact this guy got to use a pole on his way in.

#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #aziraphale #crowley #winging it

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Go your own way

Ok, I did something crazy and I wrote an ACOTAR fan fiction.

I haven’t written a fan fic in decades and I found myself rusty beyond belief.

I wasn’t even sure I would remember how to do it. But the ACOTAR series is so full of angst that for some reason i found myself inspired (who doesn’t love a nice angsty ff?)

First of all I want to apologise. As I said... i Haven’t done this in a very, very long time so my writing style is suffering. Also, I am literally new to the fandom as I finished the series this weekend. I did try to follow canon as much as i could, but please be patient if i have gone OOC a bit. Again, learning again how it all works.

The fic is about the moment when Mor finally tells Az why she can’t love him. And there is also a hint of Elriel because I am savagely shipping Elain and Az.

It’s definitely set in a not so far future after ACOFAS.

In my head it sounded great, I am not sure if I did manage to write something decent. So please have patience.

The title is from the song Go your own way from Fleetwood Mac.

I would like to thank you @illyrian-lover-flower for the chat that actually sparked the idea for this fic. I hope you like it.

Thank you all for reading. Let me know what do you think.

***

Go your own way

I look at Azriel from a hidden corner in the kitchen and a tug of happiness fills me.

He is sitting in the living room beside Elain and they are chatting in the rare calm of the town house and her smile is so bright that it could lit up the room. His gaze instead… the one of a fool in love.

His scarred hand gently cover hers, a touch almost out of place and perhaps appearing far too gentle to those who do not truly know the Shadowsinger.

But I do. And he can care. He had been at my side for over five centuries, he saved my life. He loved me. He still does and I keep breaking his heart because I can’t muster the courage to tell him the truth. Because truth is… I do care about him. More that I can admit. Just not the way he would like me to. And because I love him I always avoided the truth.

I need to let go. He needs to let go.

I study him with Elain and I sigh happily.

She might have another man claiming to be her mate but I noticed how they slowly got closer together. How she showed him day by day her growing affection. No sudden and glorious declarations of undying love. Just those timid steps toward their own personal corner of paradise after hell was literally unleashed on all our lives.

Slowly I move my body and I make sure that Az notices my presence in the kitchen.

His head snaps to me and with a tiny movement of my head I tell him to join me in the kitchen.

He bows to Elain and like the prince charming that he is, I see him kissing her hand and excusing himself.

I brace myself for the discussion ahead. One I am not sure I am ready to have.

“Were you spying on us?” He says to me with a strange glint in his eyes “You know that’s my job.”

“I was just here for a tea.” I tell him showing him my mug still full with steaming liquid.

I take a deep breath and he notices the tension rising in my body.

“What’s wrong?”

I can see him going in full alert. The war was over but there was still so much to do that we could still not declare us fully safe.

“We need to talk.” I said to him in a whisper and I look at him in the eyes.

“Strategy talk?”

I shake my head “Us talk.”

He freezes in front of me. I take a sip from my mug trying to buy me some time to think how to best breach the subject.

“Az, I need you to be happy.” I can see him staring at me, confused.

My right hand touches his arm and he is startled at that contact “I can’t give you what you want from me and I know that deep down you know it as well.” I take a pause to study his reaction but he just stares at me almost terrified by my admission “We have been dancing this dance for over five centuries, but the time has come to let go. But also…” and I take a deep breath because I know that once I admit to him that I lied to him all this time, it will hurt more that the whole revelation in itself. “I can’t love you, Az because I like women. I have known for a while now but, a part from Feyre, no one knows, because I am too much of a coward to tell everyone.” And as I finally open up my heart to him I see a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. But he still stares at me in silence and a part of me wishes he would just lash at me. It would hurt less.

“I love you, like a brother and that will never change. But this is all I can give you.” And I feel disgust wash over me. After all he has done for me… but words are betraying me and I don’t think I will ever be able to fully tell him how much he means to me. Not even if we have another millennium together.

“You never…” he finally manages, reining in his fury “Why you didn’t say anything? Did you think that I would judge you for your sexual choices? You know I don’t care. Why? Why the secrecy and the lies?” His tone rises a notch and I can feel tears welling in my eyes. And in his… fury.

His body shifts and it looks as if he getting ready to leave and I grab his arm again “I am sorry.” Is all I can breath while I try not to break “I am still dealing with this. Still accepting who I really am and I don’t know, Az. This is so fucked up.” My other hand abandons the tea on the table and lands on his other arm, grabbing him almost as if to ground me to that earth that was slowly sliding away from under my feet.

“I loved you. I love you.” And his confession hits me deeply. Never had he pronounced those words to me. But I have always know.

“I know.” I say softly as the tears eventually start to run down my cheeks “I know.” I repeat and I take a step toward him.

“Five centuries, Mor. Five damned centuries.” He sighs deeply “I need…” he stops as if not being able to finish that thought. I can see him struggling with something.

“I need you to be happy…” I finish the sentence for him and his stare is like a knife in my heart.

With my head I nod to Elain in the other room “Go your own way. Be happy. I have hurt you enough. You have endured enough.”

“I am not leaving you.” Word uttered with fierceness.

“You will still be my friend. I will still be here. I am just asking you to stop pining for me.” I turn his body around with force and point it to the living room “You gave her Truth-Teller. You almost died for her to save her. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel anything. By the Mother, everyone can see how close you two are.”

“She is someone else’s mate.” I can hear him whisper quietly while I track his gaze slowly following Elain’s movements in the living room. “Story of my life. Azriel, the sad bastard doomed to fall in love with women he can’t have.” And I hear him snort.

And that confession breaks my heart because I can taste his pain. I squeeze my hands harder on his arms “Stop it.” And my voice looses all its gentleness “Hate me, curse me, shout at me if it makes you feel better but please give up on your love for me. I am not worthy of you.” And I see his head snap back at me incredulous at my admission. Not knowing that I am aware that the only reason why he never told me it’s because he never felt worthy of me.

I caress his face and I try to give him a smile while my tears still run down my face “You are worthy.” And slowly I move a step toward him and I bury my face in his chest.

For a moment he doesn’t move then I feel his strong arms fold gently around my back.

He kisses my hair and I hear him sigh “Do you really think I have a chance with Elain?”

And a fragile smile appears on my lips as I sense the change of tone in his voice.

I move away from the embrace and look at him “Just get a move on… Cassian might get tired of chasing Nesta and decide to give it a go with the last Archeron sister available.” I joke and I can see a glint of fun in his eyes and my heart feels suddenly lighter.

“You can always ask Cassian if he has some female friend to lend you. Considered how obsessed he is with Nesta there is probably a long line of females all sad and lonely down in Velaris.” He winks at me and he turns to go back but he stops on the threshold.

I grab his hand “I love you.” I whisper to him.

He doesn’t reply but turn to me, stoops and kisses me on the cheek. Then disappears back in the living room.

I can see him placing a gentle hand on Elain’s shoulder. Her face turn upwards and gives him a beautiful smile.

I take a sip of my now almost cold tea.

“Go your own way…” I whisper to him.

“Be happy.”

#a court of thorns and roses #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #morrigan #angst

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

👻 Spooky meets Kooky 🎃

SUMMARY: Claire reminisces about the time when she first came to Scotland and fell through the stones on the eve of Samhain. Jamie tells her a story his da told them as bairns, and Claire recaps her favourite Halloween memory from the future which has James Fraser all engrossed in more ways than one.

A spoof of when the past meets the future. Retelling parts of Chapter 1, pp 22-25 from Drums of Autumn, inspired by Halloween with the Addams Family and Vera Adxer’s artwork above.

AO3

PART 1 … The Tale of the Tannasg 👻

It was nearing to Halloween time on Fraser’s Ridge, and as the Frasers prepared for a night beside the fire, Claire was reminiscing about times gone by on that fateful night that was to become her destiny.

“Jamie, Halloween, the spookiest night of the year, is almost upon us.”

“Don’t ye mean Samhain Sassenach?” he replied cheekily knowing that the two were indeed similar celebrations centuries apart.

“I do, but I was just thinking about the first time that Frank and I came to Inverness all those years ago … I remember it was on the eve of Samhain.”

She continued to tell Jamie the conversation they’d had in Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast not realizing that her husband’s mind was elsewhere. “I can still recall what she said …”

“Well, you've picked a bonny time to be here. Just nigh on Samhain.”

“I take it that's Gaelic for "Halloween?”

“Well, Halloween is derived from Samhain. You're both welcome at the festival, of course.”

“Of course, what would Halloween, Samhain, be without a good ghost story?”

“Oh, and we have those, for sure. I hope you'll join us for Samhain tomorrow night.”

“What, the pagan festival?”

“Aye. There’s a circle of standing stones on the hill just outside the village, and there's a local group who still observe rituals there. It’s a place called Craigh na Dun and according to local folklore, the stones were carried there from Africa by a race of Celtic giants …”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hmmph! Not Frank …” Jamie mumbled under his breath tapping his fingers against his thigh in dislike.

The mention of Frank Randall’s name only brought back his feelings towards the man he had sent his Claire back to on the eve of Culloden knowing that he would surely die on the battlefield. His emotions were still raw about this man even after all these years and their conversation about him and their daughter Brianna echoed in his head as Claire was still speaking.

“I hadna thought ever to be so jealous of a dead man. I shouldna have thought it possible.”

“Of a dead man? Of Frank?”

“Who else? I have been worm-eaten wi’ it, all these days of riding. I see his face in my mind, waking and sleeping. Ye did say he looked like Jack Randall, no?”

“How? How could you think of such a thing?”

“How could I not? Ye heard her, Claire; ye ken well what she said to me!”

“Brianna?”

“She said she would gladly see me in hell, and sell her own soul to have her father back—her real father. I keep thinking he would not have made such a mistake. He would have trusted her; he would have known that she … I keep thinking that Frank Randall was a better man than I am. She thinks so. I thought … perhaps ye felt the same, Sassenach.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser …!” Claire remonstrated noticing that her husband seemed a little distracted, “… Are you listening to me?”

“Aye, I am Sassenach,” he replied sheepishly knowing that his mind had indeed been elsewhere. “I’m intrigued about that night in Inverness, and what happen to ye before ye fell through the stones.” Jamie looked at his wife and gave her his full attention to what she might say next.

“Do you know that if I hadn’t gone to see the Druids that night, and returned in the morning to collect the Forget-me-nots, that I may not have ever gone through the stones and found you.”

“We were fated mo ghràidh. Ye would have found yer way to the stones regardless because I was waiting for ye on the other side. I thank the day, Murtagh brought ye to me at the cabin.” He leaned towards his love and clasping her hand brought it to his lips placing a tender kiss to the top of her hand and knuckles.

Claire blushed at her love’s romantic gesture and looking at him explained about that night so long ago. “I remember seeing those Druids dancing. They were mesmerizing Jamie twirling in circles on top of the hill with their burning tapers. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the sight of them, but some small voice inside warned me I wasn't supposed to be there. That I was an unwelcome voyeur to something ancient and powerful.”

“Aye, ye were Sassenach, but that is the mystery of Samhain. It is all about the supernatural, witches, spirits and fire. During the celebrations, people dance around bonfires while the dances tell stories of life and death. What ye saw that night was something magical that drew you tae me.”

“I wouldn’t change anything Jamie except for you sending me back on the eve of Culloden, but we found each other again and that is all that counts.”

“Aye. You belong wi' me. We're mated for life Sassenach. I barley lived for those twenty years wi'out a heart when ye were gone. I lived half a man and accustomed myself to live in the bit that was left. Did ye feel the same?”

“Yes, I knew how that felt, and had it not been for Brianna I don’t know how I would have survived too. But I had you always close because our daughter was so like you Jamie. Your carved initial in the flesh of my palm was also a constant reminder of our love. It gave me comfort whenever I touched it. When I closed my eyes, I could feel you touching me.”

Claire looked at the man she adored thankful every day that they had been reunited and that their two-decade separation had been both painful and heart breaking for each of them. “It was lonely without you, so lonely.”

“And me,” Jamie replied pensively, his voice a soft whisper. “I saw ye so many times. You came to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes. When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely, I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, wi’ yer hair curling up about your face.” He paused before an outpouring of emotion surfaced. “During that time apart, I prayed every day that you and our bairn would be safe, for whether I’m dead or you, whether we’re together or apart Claire, I will always love ye.”

“And I you, Jamie.”

“Samhain was the beginning of our destiny Sassenach. A pagan, Gaelic festival brought us together.” He kissed her palm and rested it on his heart.

Claire could feel his heart beating and her eyes misted over just thinking about the significance of this special time of the year. “All I know of Samhain is what Mrs Baird told us. Please tell me more Jamie.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Samhain is a three-day celebration in preparation for winter mo ghràidh and a time for kin all around the Highlands tae come together and feast. People believe that deceased spirits and faeries of the Otherworld can easily come into our world, so ye would honour the dead and implore loved ones to bestow some blessing on them in return. Offerings of food and drink are left outside for the spirits, even portions of crops are left in the ground for them.”

Claire listened, attentive to everything that Jamie was telling her.

“Tricks and pranks are played but blamed on faeries and spirits ye ken. Children disguise themselves as evil spirits by blackening their faces and dressing in auld clothes to go guising door-to-door reciting songs and verses in exchange for food.”

“Why do they blacken their faces?”

“’Twas so that they can venture out safely wi’out being detected by wicked spirits in hope of fooling them and to scare away the ghouls who might want tae harm them.”

“It is so like what happens at Halloween in the future too Jamie. A lot of Scots came to America in the 20th Century and brought these customs with them and they evolved to become extremely popular. There are many similarities to Samhain but also some differences too. In the future people dress up in masks and spooky costumes and the children go Trick or Treating for sweets.”

“Aye, it would seem so mo nighean donn. Samhain and Halloween do seem verra similar.”

“Mrs Baird said that you needed to be mindful for ghosts are freed on the feast days and wander about, free to do good or ill as they please.”

“’Tis true Sassenach. I myself have not seen a tannasg, but there are tales of others who have.”

“A tannasg? What, in Heaven’s name is that, Jamie?”

“Oh, a Dhia … where tae begin,” he exclaimed running his hand over his chin in thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taking a deep breath as if calming himself before he started to explain, Jamie picked up his cup of ale and took a big swig before beginning. He looked at Claire as she waited for his explanation.

“Some say a tannasg is a balding, six-foot-tall, hairy, Celtic beastie, normally only found wandering around the hills and glens at night. Some say it is eerily like a fogy mist that covers the moors on a dark night and is what ye may call an apparition, a spirit or a shadowy ghost figure. Nobody really kens what it is but, nae matter, a tannasg is verra scary and if you come upon one when out in the glens ye must be verra careful. Sometimes it’s an unfriendly faerie or nymph who may have been holding onto a grudge and means tae cause trouble. A tannasg would put the fear of the Almighty in ye and scare ye witless. If ye ever were to meet one it would make yer hair stand up like a man’s cock in the mornin’ Sassenach.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! I’m scared with just the description of one.”

“And so ye should be a leannan. They are verra scary beasties that ye wouldna want to meet.”

“Oh, I do love hearing a scary ghost story Jamie. Can you tell me any about tannasgs?”

Claire watched as his lip curved up into a smile. He had that twinkle in his eyes that she knew so well whenever he was going to tell a story.

“Aye, I will. Sit yerself down by the fire and I’ll tell ye one that ma da told us wee bairns that scairt us truly.”

Settling down more comfortably in her chair, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and waited for her husband to retell the tale told to him, his brother William and sister Jenny long, long ago.

“I can tell ye a frightfully spooky tale of the past. It’s a spine-chilling story guaranteed tae give you a good thrill and chill ye to the bones.”

“I think I best have a wee dram of whisky ready for the story you are about to tell then James Fraser.”

“Aye …” He picked up his cup of ale and they both took a wee sip of their drinks. “Sláinte. Are ye ready Sassenach?”

“I am.” Claire curled her feet up in the chair whilst Jamie began to tell the tale of the tannasg.

“My father loved telling this story.”

She watched as a muted glow descended over Jamie’s face as the light from the fire fell across his features and highlighted the animation she could see on his face and in his eyes. Claire looked at him waiting with bated breath ready for him to retell this tale, for she knew that she was going to enjoy this story very much indeed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tis the story of a man who was afraid of being alone in the dark and most mortally scairt of the spirits, ye ken, and how one night he met a tannasg. I remember when my da first told this story. I was mortally scairt too Sassenach.”

His body shuddered a little despite the heat in the room at the thought of the untold story he would tell. “I kept awake half the night, after he told us this tale, though it dinna seem to bother Jenny that much.”

“Oh, my,” Claire uttered her voice eager to hear more. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes round with the wonder and intrigue that he would impart with his tale as Jamie began to recount his childhood story.

Settling himself in his seat by the fire, he sat back, his ale cup in hand. Thinking, he rubbed his hand across his chin collecting his thoughts. Jamie then smiled at his wife wryly glancing at her as he began to recount his tale of long ago.

“Ah, well, it was in the late, cold autumn in the Highlands, just when the season turns and the chill in the air tells ye the ground will be covered wi’ frost come morning.”

Rolling the pewter cup slowly between his hands, he stared down into the dark ale as though seeing those Scottish peaks in the pitch-black night and the mist that floated across the glens. Raising his eyes, he looked at Claire. She was hanging on each word and so he continued.

“Well Jock MacBride’s son brought back their kine from the glen that night, but there was one wee beast missing. The lad had hunted for it up the hills and down the dales but couldna find it anywhere, so his da sent the lad to milk the two others and set out himself tae look for the lost cow.”

“Go on …”

“The da went some distance, but his cottage behind him soon disappeared. When he looked back, he couldna see the light from the window anymore and there was no sound but the whistling of the wind. It was cold, but MacBride went on trapsing through the mud and heather as the ice crunched beneath his boots echoing in the stillness.”

Claire pulled her shawl around her shoulders. If her husband could see her eyes, he would have seen that her pupils were decidedly larger. She was so engrossed with his story thus far and took another wee sip of her drink. With eyes fixed on Jamie, she couldn’t wait to hear more of his tale.

“Soon up ahead of him, Jock saw a small grove through the mist and thinking the cow might have taken shelter beneath the trees, he went toward it. However, the trees were birches, standing there with nae a leaf, and with their branches all gnarled together, so he bent his head to squeeze beneath the boughs.”

“What did he see when he got through the branches Jamie?”

“He came into the grove Sassenach, and saw it was not a grove at all, but a circle of trees. There were great tall trees, spaced verra evenly all around him and smaller ones too wi’ saplings grown up in between the trees to make a wall of thick branches. In the centre of the circle stood a cairn.”

Claire felt as though a sliver of cold ice had just slid down her spine. She got chills listening to him and shivered imagining the scene, for his picture was very real in her mind. She had seen ancient cairns in the Highlands herself that Jamie had just described and found them eerie enough in the broad light of day, let alone to see one at night. That would have been quite spooky indeed.

Jamie was getting that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach he remembered feeling as a bairn when his father had told this tale. He looked over at Claire and she had an expression of foreboding for what he may say next on her face that he’d had too. He took a sip of ale to loosen his vocal cords for his mouth was dry before continuing.

“He felt quite queer did Jock MacBride, for he kent the place, everyone did and kept well away from it. It was strange and it seemed even worse in the dark and the cold than it did in the daylight. It was an auld cairn the kind laid wi’ chunks of rock all heaped round with stones. He was scairt, but he slowly glanced up, and saw before him the black opening of a tomb.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! Was there a tannasg in there?”

Her husband gave her a piercing look. Jamie knew that Claire’s mind was thinking ahead and knew that he was getting close to revealing what Jock had seen.

“He knew it was a place that no man should come, and he was without a powerful charm to ward off any spirits. Jock had naught but a wooden cross about his neck, so he crossed himself with it and turned tae go.”

Jamie paused to take another sip of his ale to catch his breath. Claire saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed and reached instinctively for her own cup with eyes fixed on her beloved. Holding her breath, she gasped, “Don’t stop there. What happened next?”

Giving her the semblance of a wink and a wry grin, he paused then spoke softly stating, “As Jock went from the grove … he heard footsteps behind him.”

“No…!” she exclaimed.

“He dinna turn to see, but kept walking and the steps kept pace wi’ him, step by step always following. Jock came through the peat where the water seeps up and it was covered with ice, the weather bein’ so cold ye ken. MacBride could hear the peat crunch under his feet and behind him the cr-ack! cr-ack! of the breaking ice.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James Fraser was a natural born storyteller, animated and engaging like most Scots were and listening to him speak reminded Claire of their wedding night and the awkwardness between them. She remembered him saying, “You’re a Fraser now Sassenach. You must learn to tell a story and listen to one.” So, to put her at ease, he’d told her story after story of his family and his life growing up and she in turn had told him about her life too. Her husband was in his element telling this story just like on the night they wed. She knew, that Jamie was aware that she hung on his every word and was eager to hear the rest of the story. The tension was building and placing her legs to the floor, Claire removed her shawl as it was getting warmer in the room and leaned forward eager to hear more of his tale.

“Jock MacBride walked and walked through the cold dark night watching ahead for the light of his own window where his wife had set the candle. But the light never showed and he began tae fear he had lost his way among the heather and the dark hills.”

“The tassasg was following him?”

“Aye, he was Sassenach. All the time the steps kept pace with him echoing loud in his ears. At last Jock could bear it no more and seizing hold of the cross he wore round his neck he swung about wi’ a great cry tae face whatever followed.”

There was apprehension in her voice for poor Jock. “What did he see?”

Jamie glanced at Claire and when next he spoke, his voice was so quiet, almost like a whisper, that she needed to concentrate to hear what he was saying.

“It was a figure like a man, but with no body. It was all white like it might have been made of the mist, but wi’ great holes where its eyes should be. They were black and empty and fit tae draw the soul from MacBride’s body with fear.”

Claire gasped with a cry of anguish at the description, and placed her hand across her mouth. “What did he do Jamie?

“Jock held up his cross before his face and he prayed aloud to the Blessed Virgin,” he said leaning forward intently. “The thing came no nearer Claire, but stayed there watching him.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dim firelight outlined her husband’s profile in a halo of golden aura which made his rustic hair seem like it had flecks of gold and crimson sprinkled in it as well. Suddenly, she was a little distracted by the man and was mesmerized by his intoxicating Scottish drawl. Claire’s eyes glazed over overcome with feelings for the virile man whose silhouette was oh so tempting in the fire’s glow, but also for poor Jock MacBride and how he would get out of his predicament. She held her breath and waited for what would happen next.

“And so, he began to walk backwards not daring to turn around again. Jock walked backward stumbling and slipping in an effort to get away from the spirit, fearing every moment that he might tumble into a burn or down a cliff and break his neck, but fearing worse tae turn his back on the cold thing.”

“I would have done the same Jamie. Better to watch the tannasg than not to know where it was,” she added with a little shiver of dread for the poor Jock MacBride.

“He couldna tell how long he’d walked only that his legs were trembling wi’ weariness. Then at last he caught a glimpse of a light through the mist, for there was his own cottage wi’ the candle in the window. Jock cried out in joy and turned to his door, but the cold thing was quick and slipit past him tae stand between him and the door.”

“Oh no!”

“Dinna fash Sassenach, his wife had been watching out for him and when she heard him cry out, she came to the door at once. Jock shouted to her not to come out but to go and fetch a charm to drive away the tannasg. Quick as could be, Bessie MacBride snatched the pot from beneath her bed and a twig of myrtle tied with ribbons that she’d made to bless the cows. She dashed the water against the doorposts and the cold thing leapt upward straddlin’ the door’s beam. Her husband quick as a flash, rushed beneath and bolted the door shut tight. He stayed inside in his wife’s arms until the dawn hoping that the tannasg would nae come inside the cottage. They let the candle burn all the night and Jock never again left his house past sunset.”

Claire sighed as Jamie finished speaking. “Did they find the cow?” she queried, keen to know the fate of the lost kine.

With a raised eyebrow he answered, “Oh, aye they did. The next morning, they found the poor beast wi’ her hooves all clogged wi’ mud and stones. It was staring mad and frothy about the muzzle. Her sides were heavin’ fit to burst. Jock said that she looked as though she’d been ridden tae Hell and back.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!” Claire exclaimed imagining the visual of what had happened to the poor cow.

Jamie glanced at his wife to see her reaction to his tale. “Did ye like it?”

“Like it? … I loved it Jamie. It kept me in suspense all the way through.”

“Thank ye Sassenach. I’m glad ye liked it,” he replied very pleased with himself.

PART 2 … Halloween Addams Family style. 🎃

“So, what about you Claire? Do ye have a tale tae tell as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I do Jamie, and when I’ve caught my breath, I will tell you something about Halloween from the future. My tale will not be as scary as your story of Jock MacBride though,” she replied with a cheeky twinkle in her eye. “In fact, it is about something that you might find hard to wrap your head around.”

Intrigued with his wife’s words, Jamie sat back in his chair and waited for her to begin. With a curl of his lip and a sparkle in his eye he asked, “And what might that be Sassenach?”

“Television.”

His brow furrowed in thought and Jamie raised an eyebrow a little perplexed as he glanced at Claire. “Television? … Hmmph?” He tapped his fingers against his thigh in concentration and ran the word slowly over his tongue as if savouring a new morsel of information, he didn’t quite know enough about. “Television ye say.” He looked at Claire again in earnest anticipation and waited for her to explain.

“Oh dear…” she sighed. “Where to begin?” Collecting her thoughts on how to explain this invention to her husband, Claire finally had an idea. “Remember when you rescued me from the Witch Trial and I told you I was from the future?”

“Aye, I remember mo ghràidh.”

“Well this is another one of those things from the future too. It is something from my time. You've never heard of it. No one here has, that is except for Bree and Roger.”

He grinned at her statement of the obvious. “Well then, I may not understand it a bit, not yet, but I trust ye. I trust yer word; yer heart and there is a truth between us. So ... whatever you tell me ... I will believe ye, Sassenach. Tell me more.”

Claire bit her lip before she spoke. “Do you also remember the photographs I brought back to show you of Brianna?”

Jamie made a small inarticulate sound, “Aye I remember.”

He remembered all too well Claire taking a small packet from her clothing, to show him the photographs of their beloved daughter Brianna, a fine boned, and delicate replica of himself. He looked up at his wife wondering what the correlation may be with the photographs and this television.

“Well television is those pictures brought to life.”

He remembered how he had splayed his hand out over the photographs, with trembling fingers not quite touching the shiny surface. How was it possible that pictures could be brought to life? He was a little perplexed.

“Television is a machine with a small screen that shows moving pictures and sounds. They were commonplace in many households in Boston during the 60’s and we had one too. The word "television" comes from the words …”

But before she could finish what she wanted to say Jamie butted in with his knowledge of the Greek language.

“Tele is the Greek word for far away, and vision would mean sight.”

A smile softened her lips, “Yes, that’s right.”

He shook his head in disbelief when Claire described something so unfathomable that it was hard to believe some such machine existed. He didn't understand it all, but he listened. Claire had risked bringing the photographs of Brianna through the stones and thus brought something of the 20th century into the 18th century. However, although still a little mystified, nothing she had told him about the future fazed him now and he believed her despite how inconceivable what she was saying could be.

“Television was used for family entertainment and we would sit around in our parlour and watch the screen.” Claire’s voice was animated when she next spoke. “There was a program on the television that you would have loved Jamie, called The Addams Family. Brianna and I loved that show.”

He grinned. “I would verra much have liked to see this television program too Sassenach.” If they loved it, he knew he would love it too.

“They were not your typical family; they took delight in most of the things of which normal people would be terrified. They were kooky and eccentric but they were a very close-knit, extended family.”

“Ah, so just like us here on Fraser’s Ridge Sassenach,” he replied giving her a huge, big smile.

“Yes, I guess, but there was one difference though Jamie, they had decidedly macabre interests and supernatural abilities.”

He balked at that. “Oh, indeed they wouldna fit in well in this time then. People believe in witches and things that go bump in the night, but they wouldna understand them at all. They would have their heads on a pike before ye could count tae ten.”

Although Claire nodded in agreement at what her husband was saying for that was exactly what had happened to her. As he spoke, she was momentarily distracted with thoughts of what had happened in Cranesmuir at the Witch Trial when she was tried and convicted of witchcraft.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

People’s superstitions of anything they didn’t quite understand, especially a person like her was met with fear for they thought her a witch. At the trial, the crowd was baying for blood and wanted to burn her at the stake, and had Jamie not rescued her, that would have been her fate. Nonetheless, he was a little skeptical as well because he’d seen the “devil’s mark” on her arm too. He had calmly asked if she was a witch, because what she had told him was far-fetched. His face throughout her admission was inscrutable and he’d sighed, then smiled ruefully down at her. She remembered their conversation well,

“Claire, are ye a witch?”

“I’m not a witch. Do you really believe me, Jamie?”

“Aye, I believe ye, Sassenach. But it would ha’ been a good deal easier if you’d only been a witch.”

“And if I were? If you had thought I were a witch? Would you still have fought for me?”

“I would have gone to the stake with you, and to hell beyond, if I must!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Claire? … Claire?” Jamie said a little louder as she had been quiet for so long that he was a little concerned for where her mind must have gone, but on reflection it was probably to the Witch Trial when he’d rescued her and she had told him she was from the future.

“Oh, I’m sorry Jamie, I lost my train of thought there for a moment.”

“Nae matter … So, mo chridhe, ye were saying?”

Claire let her husband’s endearment wash over her. Jamie was always so attuned to her feelings and giving him a tentative smile, continued to explain about the Addams family members. “Their mother and uncle lived with them and their children, plus they had a 7-foot-tall butler … their man servant called Lurch, and a disembodied hand that lived in a box called Thing.”

Jamie shook his head, as what Claire was saying was becoming more fanciful, but he kept an open mind as she described more.

“The husband, Gomez Addams was an extremely wealthy man and was able to indulge his wife Morticia's every desire, whether it was cultivation of poisonous plants or a candlelit dinner in a graveyard.”

He raised his eyebrow again at this piece of information. “That sounds verra interesting,” he murmured somewhat amazed.

Claire smiled indulgently at her love. “You are very much like him. He was very romantic and he was madly in love with his wife and loved her to distraction.”

“As do I you, mo ghràidh,” before adding, “I think I should like this Gomez fellow.”

She beamed at him once more as Jamie seemed pleased as punch at what he had just said.

He then blessed himself. “A Dhia! But … I willna have dinner wi’ ye in a graveyard, mo luaidh even wi’ candlelight,” he muttered under his breath. He chuckled at the thought of that idea, especially after having just told her the story of the tannasg who had come out of his tomb. No, he could not come at doing that.

“I agree. I don’t think I would like to do that either, but Gomez and Morticia did. They also had pet names for each other, Jamie.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His ears pricked up once more when she said this, knowing that his Claire had several endearing names that he called her. He sighed his voice a little raspy, “Aye, I do that too Sassenach.”

Her smile was soft and dreamy for the loving man she had married, then she told him some extra information. “Despite what I have just said, this television show was very entertaining and so amusing. It had unconventional humour, sex appeal, the breaking and questioning of the conventions of conformity at the time, as well as looking at the world in a unique, offbeat frame of mind.”

“Well then, tell me more mo muirninn. I am an educated man as ye ken, and I can see that perhaps these Addams people were different but nae different from our family. Do they have something tae do wi’ Halloween then?”

“Oh indeed. Halloween was their favourite time of the year and they would bob for crabs instead of apples as most people would do. You see, they were not a conventional family. They dressed differently to everyone else, they were weird looking and they had peculiar idiosyncrasies. They even lived near a cemetery at 0001 Cemetery Lane in an ornate, gloomy mansion.”

Jamie poured himself a whisky this time and laughed as her descriptions of this family were getting more and more unusual. He refilled Claire’s cup as well and handed it to her, then sat back in his chair to hear more.

“Oh, Jamie I wish that you could have seen it. You would have loved all the characters but particularly Gomez Addams. Bree and I would laugh so much. They were so funny.”

Claire paused a little as if thinking about something she remembered then looking at her husband with a mischievous expression on her face asked, “Jamie? Can you click your fingers? Like this?” She then demonstrated a click! click! sound.

“I may not be able tae wink, but I can click my fingers ye ken Sassenach.”

She began to set the scene for her tale of the Addams Family. “Well then … Every time I say … da-da-da-da … you click your fingers okay?”

“Okay, I can do that mo nighean donn.”

“I will sing you the theme song that would play when the television show came on screen but I’m going to replace their family name with ours, however, … the da-da-da-da was really played on a harpsichord, but I’m going to improvise.”

Claire grinned at her love and saw that Jamie was prepared and a little excited to know more of the Halloween tale she was about to unleash on him. “Are ye ready?”

“Always.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

Claire repeated the chorus … as Jamie was thoroughly enjoying himself while getting into the swing of things with gusto.

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

“They're creepy and they're kooky. Mysterious and spooky. They're altogether together ookey. The Fraser Family.

The house is a museum. When people come to see 'em. They really are a scre-am. The Fraser Family.

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

Neat

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

Sweet

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

Petite

So, get a witch's shawl on. A broomstick you can crawl on. We're going to pay a call on. The Fraser Family.

They both fell back against their chairs laughing out loud as Claire finished the theme song and Jamie clicked the refrain part with enthusiasm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I see what ye meant earlier Sassenach, so, tell me more about the husband Gomez and his wife Morticia.”

“Gomez was the patriarch of the family, just like you Jamie. He was a very dashing man who loved to wear pinstriped suits.”

She saw his puzzled look and explained. “Clothing was very different in the 60’s to what it is now, but he was as dashing as you were in Paris. Suits are a two-piece garment, long breeks and a jacket cut to the hip, made from the same material and worn together. Gomez Addams smoked cigars and had a very quirky moustache. I’ll ask Brianna to draw you some pictures of the family if you like.”

Jamie nodded in reply to her statement for he loved the drawings Brianna did, and although he could picture them in his imagination, seeing a picture of the family would make them really come to life.

Claire knew that her husband would relish this next piece of information. “He adored Morticia and would call her Cara Mia, Querida, Querida Mia, Tish, or Cara Bella.”

“Hmmph? … Querida is Spanish for "the woman I desire.” I can relate tae that Sassenach,” Jamie replied with a sharp look that made her heart skip a little beat. “I see now why ye think we are alike,” he proclaimed with a penetrating gleam in his eye. “And his wife?”

“She was very beautiful with long flowing, straight, raven coloured hair. Morticia was described as a witch; she was slim, with extremely pale skin.”

“A witch ye say? … a Dhia Claire! … It’s just like people called you because of yer healing powers. I am seeing more parallels here … Querida,” he added in that sexy voice that always thrilled her.

Claire nearly lost her train of thought when her husband called her Querida and she bit her lip in response to the endearment once more. “Stop interrupting me James Fraser, I’m trying to tell you my Halloween story.”

“Duilich … Sorry Sassenach, but I am just imagining the things ye are saying just like you saw on the … television. Tell me more about this Morticia Addams.”

“Her black dress matched her hair and it was skin tight and figure hugging with a fringe of octopus-like cloth "tentacles" at the lower hem that pooled around her feet.”

“That’s quite an outfit you have on there lady?” one of the robbers said to her Jamie.

“I always wear this for Halloween.”

“Looks great. Real good for Halloween,” he replied thinking that she was wearing a costume but it was her actual clothing.

“Is that so? Anything else …Tish?” Jamie grinned cheekily doing a mental checklist of the romantic names Gomez had called his wife.

“Morticia could easily excite her husband by speaking French and other languages. Her pet names for him were Bubula, Mon Cherie and Querido.”

“Ah, Querido, the Spanish word for "the man I desire." I like that too Claire. Ye can call me that at any time my … Cara Mia.”

She blushed a little more at another one of Morticia’s pet names her husband had called her and felt a hot flush warm her cheeks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, Sassenach tell me about the Halloween story ye and Brianna loved watching on yer television about the Addams Family.”

“Well Gomez received a new carving knife in the mail and used it to carve out a pumpkin with the face of his Uncle Fester on it for Halloween. They would put a candle in it to light it up at night and the face would shine through the holes in the Jack-o-lantern. This is very common in the future and people in Boston would put their carved pumpkins on their doorsteps at Halloween. It was a fun thing to do and they would also decorate their houses with ghoulish things.”

“‘Tis similar to Samhain too Claire but people use turnips. I guess a pumpkin would be easier tae carve though,” he proclaimed. “Tell me more.”

“Their children, Wednesday and Pugsley, dressed up and went trick or treating with their Grandmama for sweets and treats that they would collect from their neighbours. While they were out two robbers who were escaping from the police … took refuge in the Addams family garden. Thinking they were their Halloween guests, they were invited inside for a Halloween party but unfortunately, they tried to steal money from the family instead of enjoying their hospitality. When they saw inside their spooky house they exclaimed,

“You folks sure don’t hold back on Halloween.”

“It’s our favourite holiday.”

Then Gomez said, “Gentlemen come here and I’ll give you a treat. Open your bag. They didn’t want to show him what was in there because it had the stolen money in it.”

“What happened next Claire?” Jamie asked thinking this story of the future was a little bizarre but extremely interested in her Halloween story of a show she had watched on television.

“Now, now, there’s nothing to be scared of, I think it’s kind of heart-warming that adults get into the Halloween spirit, and when Gomez opened their bag, he found it was full of money, and he assumed that their neighbours had given them cash for a Trick or Treat. He took out several hundreds of dollars from an open drawer and gave it to them. The robbers’ eyes widened with surprise and decided to hatch a plan to steal all the money and their valuables from them.”

“Did the Addams’ ken they were planning tae steal their valuables?”

“No, they were in the kitchen getting refreshments, and whilst Morticia was stirring the punch, her husband Gomez became quite amorous towards her.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This story now was just getting more fascinating for James Fraser by the minute. He smiled at his Claire and asked a little provocatively, “Tell me more Sassenach. What did he do … in the kitchen?”

She was a little tongue tired especially with the way the man she desired was looking at her, but she ventured on regardless to how her insides were all fluttering with tingling feelings that she felt to the very core of her being. When Jamie was in this amorous mood, she was putty in his hands. How was she ever going to tell him what happened next, she thought, but she did.

“When Morticia called him “Bubula … darling” … he took her hand in both of his and kissed it before caressing each finger with his lips beginning at the little pinkie, then the ring finger, and then each other finger after that, until her whole hand had been caressed. It was something he always did.”

Jamie’s eyes were smouldering. “How did she react tae that ... Querida?” he murmured with a little raspy grunt.

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Morticia swooned at the attention her husband was giving her and replied … When we are together darling, every night is Halloween.”

Claire was starting to swoon a little herself. She was feeling a little hot and bothered, and bit her lip as Jamie’s gaze washed over her with intent, but she continued with her story. Her husband knew exactly what he was doing with the way he was looking at her, and he couldn’t be more interested in what would Gomez Addams do next. Jamie hung on each word that came out of her mouth.

“Go on … Sass-en-ach.”

Her mouth was getting a little dry, so Claire took a wee sip of her whisky to also compose herself before she went on with her tale.

“Then while his arm was around her waist, and holding out her arm, Gomez slowly ran his lips up the length of it, kissing across the back of her neck … her shoulder, then down her back and …”

“Aye? And … then what?”

“The punch exploded!”

Jamie couldn’t help himself. He was not expecting Claire to say that, and doubling over in mirth, he burst out laughing as too did she. The happy, raucous sound echoed in his throat and their combined laughter loudly resonated in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, James Fraser suddenly stopped laughing.

Looking up, Claire saw the explicit intent in her husband’s eyes that always made her catch her breath. She watched; eyes fixated on her virile man as he rose from his chair and made his way over to where she was sitting. Jamie was now standing in front of her chair. He reached out his hand towards her, then placing her hand in his grasp, he slowly pulled Claire up and out of the chair until she was but a hair’s breath away from him. She could feel the solidness of her husband’s chest.

“So, mo nighean donn, what happened tae the robbers?”

“I … ahh, … I … don’t re-member,” she mumbled, tripping over her words as Jamie’s penetrating gaze held her eyes captive with a look that had her feeling quite breathless.

Claire could feel the warmth of his breath as her love quietly spoke seductively against her lips. “I see … Well then ... What were ye sayin’ about what Gomez Addams was doing tae his wife … Sass-en-ach?”

Lost in the suggestive look that Jamie was bestowing on her, Claire Fraser found it difficult to breathe let alone speak as she felt the gentle but scorching touch of lips brushing against her own.

“Ahhh … Ahhh …” she murmured incoherently. “He kissed … her hand.”

“What? … Like this?”

Placing his arm around Claire’s waist, Jamie held out her right arm and proceed to place warm, fervent kisses to the top of her hand before trailing them down to her little pinkie finger.

“Ye-yes…” she purred closing her eyes in the bliss of his seduction.

Soft, warm lips lathed the small digit before continuing on to her ring finger. His lips started at the tip of her fingernail drawing it into his mouth before releasing her finger. His tongue then skimmed up and over her knuckle to where his wedding ring, a silver band with a small thistle bloom carved in the centre of each intertwined Highland pattern, lay nestled against her skin. Jamie’s lips hovered over the ring, stopping as his eyes observed his token of love on his Sassenach's finger. Jamie hesitated for a moment, then bent his head over it, his lips barely brushing over her knuckles once more before they touched the silver ring and stopped there for one moment of remembrance.

At the same time, suddenly Claire’s thoughts returned to that day in the hospital recalling when Frank had tried to twist it off her finger and the panic that she’d felt. The guttural sound she’d made was heart wrenching and she’d jerked her hand away and cradled it, fisted, beneath her breast cupped in her left hand.

“I never took it off … mon Cherie,” she whispered, the love in her voice caressing Jamie’s ears as much as his lips had caressed her hand.

This ring was special to her and she had never taken it off even over the twenty years they had been parted. During those long, aching years of separation, it was one of her very, very few tangible reminders of Jamie. The Latin phrase that he’d engraved inside her wedding ring was a brief quotation from a love song by Catullus, and she had recited it so many, many times just thinking of her love when she closed her eyes at night.

Jamie’s lips found and touched the silver ring once more before his tongue slid from one side of the ring to the other. His ring which she wore on this finger since the day they had wed was special to him. It was his ultimate love token to the woman who had stolen his heart from the very moment he had laid eyes on her at Samhain time. This ring spoke to him and was a reaffirmation of how solid was their love and how strong their bond was.

Her eyes were closed, and Claire knew without looking, that Jamie’s were, as well.

“Da Mi Basia Mille, diende centum, dein mille altera, dein secunda centum …” he murmured, smiling before opening his eyes to stare piercingly at his love as he translated the Latin. “Then let amorous kisses dwell on our lips, begin and tell, a thousand and a hundred score, a hundred …”

Claire’s eyes blurred with tears. Placing her hand at the nape of Jamie’s neck, she fisted it in his glorious red hair, slowly twisting the curls between her fingers. "Dein mille altera … then give me a thousand more,” she uttered breathlessly clearing her throat.

He brushed away the tear that had trickled down her cheek with his finger, but two more welled up and overflowed; she felt them, full and round, roll down her cheeks.

This poignant romantic moment of remembrance between them was suddenly so overwhelming, that she felt her eyes well up once again. The reality of the power of their love and connection made the fictional one between Gomez Addams and his wife Morticia pale in comparison. Perhaps the show she had watched when back in the future was a reminder to her of who she missed terribly and how much she missed so achingly the sensuous kisses that her beloved husband had given her. Suddenly, she was overcome with emotion as Jamie continued to display his amorous kisses to her hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, he soon sensed that his Claire was feeling wistful.

“Cl-aire?” Jamie’s voice was gentle and his utterance of her name, spoken in tenderness, nearly made her break down again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Are ye okay mo ghràidh? What’s the matter? Am I not doin’ this right, like Gomez Addams?”

“Oh, Jamie, … You are doing this … so much better … than he ever could my love.”

Slowly he drew her close to him, taking both hands and holding their linked fingers just under his breast to where Claire could feel his heart beating in his chest. Jamie held his love close for a quiet moment and kissed the top of her head as it lay nestled against him. Placing his finger under her chin, he lifted Claire’s face up to his, then cupping her beautiful cheeks with exquisite gentleness, he set his mouth on hers.

“I like yer Halloween story verra much mo ghràidh, in fact I like it sae much that I think we could … continue it in our bedroom. What say ye … Querida Mia?” … He kissed his wife’s cheek … “Cara Bella,” … and then her other special name … “Sor-cha,” … Jamie muttered against Claire’s lips before trailing them down her throat in an assault that had her losing consciousness in his arms.

“Per-haps … we … could …” was her garbled reply spoken against his hot mouth as she wound her arms around her husband’s neck. Her eyes glazed over with emotion for this wonderful man as she succumbed to the sweet surrender of his embrace. Jamie’s eyes too were shining with passion as he lifted Claire up into his arms and carried his love into their bedroom.

“This has been a verra good night Sassenach and one I think could be repeated each Samhain.”

“I approve … Querido,” she murmured seductively against his ear and cupping his cheek with her hand.

Touching foreheads, Jamie’s lips hovered over hers and he smiled with such a wicked look that Claire couldn’t help but smile too knowing that whatever came out of her husband’s mouth would be something profound. However, she was not expecting his reply with the phrase Morticia Addams had spoken on the television program.

“When we are together darling … every night is Halloween. Now, I want to take ye to bed, and I mean to spend the rest of the night thinking what to do to ye once I’ve got ye there.”

Then James Fraser proceeded to demonstrate the many ways that this Fraser husband showed his wife how he would seduce her every night … but twice on Samhain and Halloween.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Addams Family Theme - Vic Mizzy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ5IWRz78DY

Halloween with the Addams family (full episode)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LavY2K3-Vhs

Endearment Translations:

Claire Fraser

mo chridhe - my heart

mo muirninn - my darling

mo luaidh - my darling, my dear.

a leannan - sweetheart, or beautiful woman

Sorcha – brightness

mo ghràidh – darling

mo nighean donn - my brown-haired lass

Morticia Addams

Cara Mia - my beloved

Cara Bella – pretty face

Querida - the woman I desire.

Querida Mia – beloved

Tish – strong willed

Gomez Addams

Bubula – sweetheart

Mon Cherie - dear heart, my dear love.

Querido - dear

#samhain #halloween #James Fraser #clairefraser #the addams family #2020 #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic

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delicatelyherdreams · 4 years

Text

Pragma(tic) 5: She Deals With a Pest

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 3713

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 4: His Mind Runs Wild

It was a nice, calm day in the Underworld. Two weeks had passed since you’d banished James from the realm and things were just finally starting to calm down. You and Peggy had charmed the cave into next week, making it nearly impossible for even you to pass through it. No one was going to break in there any time soon. Paperwork had built up in the meantime, leaving you with a bunch of shit to deal with. For hours you slaved away, reviewing and approving Elysium applications, scanning over the new Tartarus admittees, checking out this invitation or that. You didn’t realize just how busy you could be if you took a couple of days off to deal with something as menial as border control.

But you’d managed to catch up, getting ahead even, and that left you with a rare afternoon off. You decided to spend it out at your private pool. The water glowed blue, illuminating the skin left bare by your modest one piece. You lounged on a pool chair, your hands folded over your stomach as you laid out with your eyes closed. The only sound for miles was the soft rippling of water coming from a fountain you had installed in the pool three decades ago. It was quiet, calm, cool, and—

Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt.

The peace was shattered by your phone going off on the side table.

You groaned and screwed your face up. Damn the phone. Damn it for disrupting your quiet time. Damn you for bringing it out in the first place. You blindly groped the side table for the small box, wrapping your fingers around it. For a split second you considered tossing it into the pool in front of you. You could always just pick up a new one. As much as you loathed going up to Olympus and purchasing a phone and fraternizing with the gods who hated you, in addition to the pain in the ass it was to take it to Tony to be synced with all the godly apps, contacts, and necessities you had on the old one, you hated the sound of your phone ringing and disturbing your day off more. It wasn’t like something as trivial as money was an issue for you and you had plenty of time.

You could do it. You could just throw it into the pool and be done with it.

The phone continued to ring in your hand, urging you to look at the caller ID.

Finally, curiosity won out and you opened your eyes. You were expecting to see your mother, Peggy, or even one of your sisters on the line, but you were confused to see Phil Coulson, the ferryman who brought souls over from the Mortal World, instead. You pressed the answer button and brought the phone up to your ear. “Coulson?”

“(y/n), thank the gods. You need to come to the Acheron right now.” His voice was frantic, panicked, and angry, shaking with a contained temper.

His tone alone was enough to send you flying from your beach chair and around to the front of your house. Shadows crept up your body as you walked, materializing over your bathing suit into the fabric that made up your signature black blazer and pants. Your grip tightened on your phone as you made your descent down the mountain. “I’m on my way. What’s going on?”

There was a grunt on the other end of the call and yelling that you couldn’t make out. “There’s some—ngh—crazy—No! Don’t touch that!—live bastard—I will cut off your limbs and feed you to Cerberus, I swear to Zeus!—trying to steal my boat!”

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing as you brought your gaze up to look at the border of your realm. “There’s a what?”

“Some live son-of-a-bitch meandered his way in and is now on the living side trying to jump on my boat and crossover. I don’t know if he has a death wish or what, but I haven’t seen this sort of idiocy since ancient times. Now get over here and help me!” The line went dead as Phil hung up.

You broke out into a sprint, running as fast as your legs would take you. Spirits parted for you, sensing the anxiety and confusion that rolled off you in waves. All the while, your mind ran wild with thoughts. Who had broken in? Why had they come? Where did they come from? Who were you going to have to kill? You had an idea of the idiot who came, but you weren’t going to be certain until you laid eyes on the intruder’s face.

Red crept into the corners of your vision and you had no doubt in your mind that your eyes were also turning red. It happened whenever you were stressed or angry among other things, though that seemed to be happening all the time recently.

You made it to the river in record time, sliding to a stop at the river’s edge. On the bank opposite of you, you saw thousands of spirits milling about, rustling with agitation. Phil stood on his boat, using his oar to push back a single body that was trying to muscle his way on. You would recognize that head of crisply cut brown hair anywhere. He’d been seared into your memory ever since he broke in the first time.

You felt your blood boil with agitation as you took a step forward onto the water. Your foot hit the surface like it was solid and you marched across the river. As you neared the pair, you rolled your shoulders back, puffed out your chest, and put on your “scary queen face,” as Peggy called it. Adding on a loudening effect to your voice, you made your attempt to catch their attention as you boomed, “Now just what in the hell is going on here?”

Your voice rolled over Phil and James in waves, freezing them in their steps.

Phil’s face broke out into a smile when he saw you. “Oh, finally! Will you please deal with him?”

The “him” he referred to lifted his eyes to meet yours, tensing up as they met. He did not seem afraid of you, which was strange. Most would quake in their boots when they saw you, but not him. He seemed unfazed by your presence, smiling at you instead of running away. “Hades,” he greeted.

“James.” You crossed your arms and looked at him down your nose. “Would you care to explain to me why I have found you once again in my kingdom after I explicitly told you to never return?”

“I…” It seemed that he had not thought this far ahead. If you had to guess, he came down seeking your attention, but he had no idea about what to do once he had it. “I… I just wanted to see you again.”

You deadpanned at him. “So you broke in and tried to steal my ferryman’s boat just to see me? You’re not after a jewel or something again?”

“No! I mean, no. I just…” He was flustered, a soft pink rising to his cheeks and his eyes darting around nervously. “I can’t get you out of my mind and I wanted to see you again, get to know you a bit, you know?”

You couldn’t believe your ears, it was so stupid. You laughed. “You really must be a naive fool,” you muttered. “No one ‘gets to know’ me, James. No one likes me, no one cares enough to stick around. Your efforts are futile. Don’t waste your time going for something that’s beyond your reach.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you silenced him with a sneer. “Go home, James. You don’t belong down here. The Underworld has no place for a god of spring who doesn’t know when enough is enough. I will not tell you to leave again.”

“But I—”

“Do you want to do this the hard way? Cause damnit, James, I will take you by the scruff of your neck and throw you out again, I swear to the gods. I am too busy and too tired to deal with this today, now leave!”

The harshness in your voice seemed to finally rattle him and he lowered his head in submission. This was obviously not how he had planned this going. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now leave.” You turned away from James and strode up to Phil’s side. You didn’t even turn your head to look at him when you said, “Make sure he leaves, and when he’s gone, tighten security. I’ll be sending Cerberus down pronto to help.” You cast a glare over your shoulder at the retreating god before sliding back across the river, on your way to enjoy what was left of your day off.

———

The spirits of Elysium were some of the kindest people you knew. They were always warm and welcoming to you, even though you were the “scary Queen of the Underworld.” They’d adopted you as one of their own, some giving you friendly smiles and asking you about your life and others going as far as to invite you down for dinner once or twice a month and taking care of you like you were their granddaughter (despite the fact that you were several thousand years older than them).

One spirit in particular, an elderly woman named Martha Thomas who had died in 1930’s America, seemed to take a liking to you. She invited you to dinner the most, and although you didn’t really need to eat, you adored her food and were always ready to take a meal from her. She was always kind and caring towards you, insisting that she invited you over so much in order to keep you from “getting too lonely.” You tried to tell her that you were fine on your own, but she wouldn’t have it. “You do so much for us, dear. The least we can do is invite you over for a meal every so often.”

So, when you were working on some paperwork and saw your phone buzzing on your desk with her name on the caller ID, you thought that she was just calling you down to dinner again. A small smile tugged at your lips as you shoved aside the countless number of papers before you and picked up your phone. Pressing your finger to the answer button, you held the phone up to your ear and said, “Hey, Martha!”

“(y/n)?” Her voice was trembling and nervous, causing you to sit up straighter and your heart to race. She continued, “I’m so sorry to bother you, dear, but there’s someone here and I… I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Someone there? Martha, take a deep breath, I’m on my way. Who’s there?” You stood up and rounded your desk, shooting out of your office and down the halls of your home. You slipped on a pair of shoes as you left, moving as fast as you could to get out of the house.

“I-I don’t know, but he’s a-alive! He’s alive and he keeps asking for directions to your home. He was just here and I told him nothing, but I thought nothing alive should be able to get down here.”

Your brows furrowed as you shot out the door and began the descent down the mountain. “Nothing should unless they’re a—” And like that, you knew who the intruder was… again. A guttural growl escaped your throat, causing Martha to squeak on the other line with its intensity. “Motherf— Martha, stay inside. Ignore him. I’ll deal with him personally.” You hung up, slid your phone into your pants pocket, and marched down to the gates of Elysium. Your steps had slowed a bit, as you were no longer in a hurry to get down. You now knew that the intruder was harmless. You scoffed just thinking about him. He’d only made it three weeks before stupidity got the better of him again.

The towering gates stood a small distance from the base of your mountain, and they opened soundlessly when you pressed your palm flat against the seal. You slipped in, shut the gate behind you, and started to amble down the way.

There was no sun in the Underworld, but that didn’t stop Elysium from being the brightest area down here. Large trees rose on either side of the path, casting soft shadows over the path. Architecture from every period in existence lined the street: mess halls, libraries, and any kind of shop or public facility you could think of. If you could name it, it was there in some way or another.

Smaller roads branched off in all directions, leading towards the residential sectors, each marked by the different time periods. You had your ancient times, your renaissance, the lead up to modern times, and modern times among others. Spirits could choose to live in the time where they died or move and try different time periods. You weren’t one to designate living areas; Elysium was basically its own separate entity led by the people, you just helped it out a bit and gave them resources to build.

The main street was unnaturally vacant. Every single time you’d gone down there the streets had been bustling and teeming with the dead as they chatted and socialized. But now? There wasn’t a ghost in sight. There was, however, a small trail of green and flowers growing out of the cobblestones—an almost perfect indicator that showed the path taken by a certain prince of spring. Gods, you’d known he was called a flower child, but you never thought that it was literal.

You followed the green deep into the city, through the winding streets and past residential areas. His trail led you into the 1900’s American area, right up to Martha’s door. He really had been there asking for directions. You could see her peeking out of her window, looking in the direction where James had gone, her skin translucent with anxiety.

You shot a comforting smile at her before following the trail, searching for the god of spring who had once again snuck in under your nose.

You found him in the middle of a park, turning in small circles as he took in everything around him.

He was oblivious to your presence. You wanted to keep it like that for a moment. Glancing around, you found a dark shadow and you slunk over to it silently. Fully encompassed in the dark, you took a deep breath and sank back, melting into the shadows.

This strategy allowed you to become invisible to all and move about silently. You became the darkness, using it to your advantage to travel, hide, and spy. You watched the young god carefully, ready to jump out at any moment.

For once, he actually looked normal—a pair of jeans adorning his legs and a blue shirt to match his eyes. Said eyes were filled with awe as he soaked in all that was around him. It was childish, his innocence. He was amazed by anything and everything. He was enamored by his surroundings, and so deeply engrossed that he didn’t notice you emerging from the darkness and stalking over to him.

You came to a stop right behind him and crossed your arms. Narrowing your eyes, you spat, “Is this some sick joke to you?”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, whirling around into a defensive stance. However, he loosened up as soon as he saw you. “Oh,” he breathed a laugh. “It’s just you.”

You frowned. “Yeah, but you’d think that ‘just me’ would make you a little more scared than you are.” You rolled your eyes and let out a low growl. “Is this some sort of game to you? How many times do I have to kick you out of here? How many times until you understand that you don’t belong here?” He seemed to shrink under your gaze but you weren’t done with him. “James, this isn’t a fucking game,” you snapped. “You think it’s fun trying to break in here, dragging me away from my duties, causing chaos and distress in my subjects, but it’s not. It’s really annoying is what it is, and I can’t keep taking time out of my busy schedule to come deal with you.”

He seemed ashamed, but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “I’m sorry for any distress I might’ve caused you, but I can’t get you out of my mind, Hades.” He dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a ruby—the same ruby you’d left them after you kicked them out. “You’re nothing like I was taught, and that makes me so damn curious. You don’t seem evil, but you don’t seem quite good.”

Well, that’s a nice sentiment. Your frown only intensified.

Sensing your agitation, he waved his hands in a negating motion. “Nope, that came out wrong. What I mean to say is— Oh my gods, your eyes!”

You blinked. “My eyes? What the fuck do my eyes have to—”

“They’re not red!” He beamed at you. “They’ve been red the past two times I saw you, but now they’re not. Now they’re...” He moved closer to you until he was less than a foot away and peered down at your eyes, his nose wrinkling and his brows knitting together as he focused.

You could feel his breath on your face and it freaked you out. No one was allowed to get that close to you, especially not strangers like him. You brought your hands up to his chest and shoved him back.

Surprised by your strength he stumbled, fighting to keep his footing.

“What the hell? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He still stared at you, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. “They’re (e/c)...”

“James,” you snapped. “You have bigger worries than the color of my eyes right now! Specifically, the fact that I’m trying so hard not to drag you straight to your mother and have her put a tracking device on you.” You reached forward and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours, and it sent heat all throughout your body to nestle in your core. You suppressed a shiver as you started to walk towards Elysium’s exit, dragging him behind you every step of the way.

He went with you compliantly. “Why do your eyes turn red?” he asked, innocent curiosity filling his voice.

You huffed. “They turn when I’m stressed, annoyed, or angry usually.”

“So if they’re not red, that means you’re none of those things?”

You hesitated, but he was right. Unlike the other times you’d dealt with him, your feelings were actually pretty muted; you were almost begrudgingly amused if you had to admit it. “I guess not,” you finally answered, pulling him through Elysium’s gates and out into the main Underworld.

He chuckled, the sound breaking the silence that otherwise encompassed the two of you. “Then I guess that means you’re warming up to me?”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Springy. Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I’m not seriously considering it. You’re just lucky that I’m feeling merciful today.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that you’re pretty ruthless. The mortals said you’re cruel.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know about cruel. Yes, I’m strict and firm, but I don’t think that makes me cruel or evil. Death does not yield or make exceptions for anyone, and neither do I.” You cast a glance at him over your shoulder.

He was studying you like you were a novelty, completely intrigued by your whole being.

You shook your head as if it would shake off all thoughts of him. “Anyways.” You pulled him over to the Acheron and stopped at the bank. Turning to him, you fished a gold coin from your pocket. “Give me your hand.” He did so and you pressed the coin into his palm. “Give this to Phil and he’ll take you back to the living side. And this time I mean it when I say that you cannot come back here again. You do not belong in the Underworld and you must stay away. It’s not good for you to keep coming.”

“But I don’t think it’s good for me to keep my distance.” He gazed down at you, his lips puckered as he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together. “Hades, I want to know you, as insane as it makes me seem. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I feel like the fates wanted us to meet and I’m not going to stop until I figure out the reason. Like it or not, I’ll find a way to come back down again, and when I do, I’m just going to ask you questions because I want nothing more than to know you for who you are, not who everyone says you are. So,” he squeezed your hand and gave you a smile filled with so much sincerity you almost thought it was fake, “I guess I’ll see you later.” He let your hand go and took a step back. He retreated to the river bank where Phil was waiting for him, but he never took his eyes off of you, even as he paid Phil and climbed onto the boat.

You paused as you looked at him, your eyes locking on the back of his head in a timid fascination. Why was he so insistent on seeing you? Why was he so persistent? He knew nothing of you and yet that only made him try harder. It was bewildering.

But it was also endearing and you found yourself smiling softly.

The last you saw of him that day was his form sinking into the mist as he rode the boat to the land of the living, leaving you and the Underworld behind.

Deep down you knew that was not the last you were ever going to see him, and a part of you hoped he’d be back soon.

Next 6: He Never Listens

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drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

Text

Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love

It is a terrible thing to be in love with someone who you will outlive. [Recommended listening: A reading of W.H. Auden’s Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love or, for those who like music more, a musical cover by Madeline Peyroux.]

Henrik is so young.

Perhaps not to some, as they may consider fifty to be plenty old enough. Fifty years, after all, is five whole decades, one half of a century. People tend to think that that is quite a long time.

But Norway has lived for a thousand years, watched millions upon millions of humans be born and be snatched away from life, either by the hands of others or by the silent killers that are age and illness. Fifty years is a drop in the ocean to him.

Despite his age, Henrik’s beauty is timeless. It is hard to believe that he, too, is not a nation. His wild mane of golden hair is like the Netherlands’, his piercing blue eyes those of Sweden, his seemingly boundless energy resembling America’s. He seems better suited to be the personification of the Kingdom of Denmark than the current one. The day Norway saw him in Copenhagen, resplendent and radiant in the Royal Theatre, he nearly thought that Denmark himself had a makeover.

But not now. His untamed hair is splayed across the pillow, tickling Norway’s arm whenever he shifts. His sapphire eyes are glazed over with fever. He has never been so weak.

He is beautiful anyways.

Whatever illness is plaguing Henrik has no cure. It will snatch him away soon, stop his heart when he should’ve had twenty, thirty more years. Norway will lose him forever.

The two of them are curled up in Norway’s bedroom, in a tiny cottage far, far away from the city. He has taken each and every one of his lovers here at least once. On this bed, love has been made before, but today it will be lost. Henrik is clinging on to his arm, trembling with cold despite the heavy quilt over him. From the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room, all is black. The only light comes from a candle, its wick holding a flame as flickering as Henrik’s life.

They have laid like this before, lazy and love-drunk in each other’s arms. This might be the last time they share a bed.

Henrik coughs. His chest spasms. Norway holds him closer and rubs his back soothingly, lips pressed tight to the crown of his head as he shakes. “Easy now,” he murmurs, “take deep breaths.”

His breath is rattling. Henrik curls into the warmth of his chest. “Water,” he rasps. His loud, robust voice has been reduced to this.

Norway hands him a glass and holds him steady as he sips from it. “Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiles feebly. Even when weak, he is utterly charming. “Just need you.”

He settles back in bed, his head resting on Norway’s arm. His eyes flutter closed. His breathing slows. Norway’s mind is left to wander again.

He has never had a human die beside him - at least, not one of his lovers. They left him far before it was their time, always choosing another mortal partner over one that stayed eerily, eternally young. Henrik is the only one who was loyal - or would “foolish” be a better word? - enough to stay for thirty whole years.

Some people may speak when they see this middle-aged man holding hands with one who looks not a day over twenty. But the words mortals say are nothing compared to the nations’ silent scrutiny. He isn’t like France, with the lovers he wears through half a decade at a time, but they stare all the same. I’m sorry, England’s eyes say. What a pity, Finland’s sigh. They all know how a relationship with a human will end.

That is still nothing compared to the heavy, defeated acknowledgement that weighs down on Henrik when he is sad. No, no glare from the nations could hurt Norway as much as seeing Henrik reflect on the fact that yes, after he is gone from this world, not a century will pass before Norway will have forgotten him and found someone else. He is not special.

And perhaps that will be the case one day, though he can never be sure; not even a nation like him can see the future. But now, all he can focus on is Henrik, trembling beside him.

Henrik’s eyes flutter open again. That beautiful blue gaze is dulling. Perhaps he will not last the night. But his grin is very much filled with life. Norway brushes his hair away from his clammy forehead, asking “how do you feel?”

“Tired. But I’m always tired now.”

“Does anything hurt?”

He shakes his head slightly, exhaling with a puff. Even the tiniest movements exhaust him now. “Nothing. I want a kiss, though.”

Norway obliges him, pressing his lips to Henrik’s and pretending they are just having another night together despite the air of illness and near-death that constantly lingers now. Outside the window, the sun is just beginning to rise. Day will come soon. Henrik nuzzles his neck. “Wish this could last forever,” he mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“Just you and me. In bed together. Forever and ever.” He has to stop to catch his breath. The fingers that have been clinging to Norway’s nightshirt since last evening grow weak.

For him, it may well be eternal. He kisses Henrik again, square on the lips. To Hell if he catches whatever disease his lover has; he can survive it. His mortality means nothing.

Birds are calling. Henrik groans in his half-sleeping state.

While the night slips away, Norway takes hold of his hand, running his fingers over the thin skin of his hand that is just starting to wrinkle. If only he were not dying.

The only way to save Henrik from the inevitable grasp of death is to rid him of his humanity entirely. A couple decades ago, during the Second World War, Norway heard tales of England refusing to let a boy he thought his son depart from him, and in a fit of desperation christened him the Principality of Sealand so that he would live.

He could do that, make Henrik the personification of Narvik, maybe, or Ålesund, or another small place so he could live forever without the stress of the rest of the personified world. But would Henrik want that?

Sealand, or Peter as he calls himself, hated England after being immortalised, after being doomed to be a child forever. He cursed England for making it so that he’d never grow up, never know how it’d feel to be an adult. What if Henrik hated him the same way?

They have never once talked about that possibility. Now that Henrik is barely clinging on to life, it might be a good time to. Norway runs his fingers through his hair, waiting for the next time he is coherent.

Once again, his eyes flutter open. The light in them is almost extinguished.

“Does anything hurt?” Norway asks again.

“No.”

He sighs. “I wish I could magically cure you.”

“It’s all right.” Henrik’s hand grows limper, fingers barely brushing his nightshirt. “Even if I - if I die, I’ll be happy.”

“I could change you.” He can hear the desperation in his own voice. “I could let you personify a village, a small town, something like that. You could stay alive.”

“No,” Henrik whispers.

“Why not?”

“Y-You deserve better.” He coughs, curling up in a ball. “Better... than me.”

Tears, hot and shameful, blur Norway’s vision for a brief moment. “I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

The smile that Henrik gives him is feeble, fleeting. It is so unlike his smiles from when he was healthy, grins radiant enough to light up the night sky. “You will.”

He lets the tears fall. “But - “

“You make me happy.” His other hand, clutched in Norway’s, twitches. He gently traces his hand with his thumb. “I won’t be happy if - “ he coughs again - “if I change.”

He finally lets himself cry, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Henrik’s weak hand stretches out to catch some of his teardrops. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. “Not... not over me.”

The slowly-brightening sky is almost blinding to him. He wipes his eyes, feeling a cold, hollow emptiness take over him. How idiotic he must look, crying when he is the powerful, undying one.

Henrik closes his eyes again. Norway forces himself to calm down. If only he were Belarus - harsh, hostile Belarus who despises humankind and refuses to befriend any, let alone love one. If he were like her, he would never have subjected himself to this sorrow over and over again.

He rests a hand on Henrik’s chest. His heart is beating sluggishly, so weak that Norway can hardly hear it. In a few hours, it will stop altogether.

How could he have taken those thirty years for granted? How could he have called his greatest love a fool, teased him for his many whims, when every second they spent should’ve been treasured? Are human lovers like this, too, in which they never care for the times they spend with their partners until it is all over? Or are they the logical ones here? Maybe they live every loving moment to the fullest.

As Henrik lies quivering beside him, Norway thinks of lovers from the times before - Hans and Harald, Oscar and Alfred, Gilbert and Gordon. How easy their love was, in comparison to his! How easy it is to be a man who can only love other men, compared to an immortal cursed to love a human. Better die together than to outlive one’s many loves. Yes, humans with their mayfly years have it easy.

“Nor?” Henrik is awake again, despite having closed his eyes no more than fifteen minutes ago.

“Yes, dear?”

“You should sleep.”

“No, no.” Norway bends down to press a kiss to his cheek, breathing in his scent beneath the stench of illness. “I have to take care of you.”

He shifts slightly, laying his head in the crook of his elbow. His fingers entwine with Norway’s. “You have work.” Henrik gasps, choking on his own breath. Once he can breathe again, he continues, “so you need rest. And I want to cuddle you.” He tries to wink.

He has never been able to deny Henrik anything for long. He slides so that he’s lying down next to his lover and bundles him to his chest. It has always been the other way around, with Henrik squeezing him tight with steady arms. But he will have to be the strong one tonight.

What did Henrik ever see in him? He does not have Italy’s charisma nor China’s beauty, nor Switzerland’s riches. He is a wisp of a man, awkward at best. He never thought he would attract humans.

But he did. And the latest one, about to be stolen away like all the others, is in his arms. Norway kisses his forehead, hums a song they both know and love. Henrik laughs, a pained wheezing sound that sounds like he’s choking. He might be.

The sun is about to breach the horizon. Henrik’s heart, pumping laboriously against his arm, will not last much longer. His breaths have grown shallower, too. He will die before the day comes.

Fighting back tears, he kisses him again. The blanket settles warm and heavy over them. The mattress is soft. Aflame with fever, Henrik is almost too warm in his embrace. His head is buried in Norway’s shoulder; their fingers are still laced together. “Good morning and goodnight, Nor,” he mumbles.

For Henrik’s sake, he forces himself to smile. “Good morning and goodnight, Henrik.”

“I love you.”

I adore you, Norway wants to say. I worship you, I would die for you, I would do anything to see you in good health once more. I live for you and you only. I love you even if I will forget you one day.

But pretty words are worthless now. He kisses Henrik a third time, right on his chapped lips, and whispers, “I love you too.”

He closes his eyes, afraid to open them again, for he knows what he will see.

When Norway awakens, it is noon. The sun is high in the sky, blessing all the world with its golden light.

Henrik is still snuggled into his shoulder. The fingers lacing his are cold.

Norway sits up, slowly easing Henrik down onto the pillows. He brushes his blond locks aside to take a look at him.

Henrik’s eyes are closed. He is smiling softly. He looks so young.

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing #aph suffering #hahahahhahahaha #hope y'all enjoyed the p a i n #no happy endings in my house oh no #only pain

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