#and i thought i hid it so well even though i had near constant headaches & lethargy until she said “katherine give me the red notebook”

[ef-1]

girlhood

#i have to fly out to capetown to see mother and im literally debating if i could land in the morning and leave at night on the same day #like. anything longer than that is going to ruin my year. #when she called and did her “katherine. you have to be here on the 10th” i literally sobbed in my bed for the rest of the day 😍😍😍 #not dyeing my hair black for a year and its getting lighter and lighter everyday and i look like her again #and my therapist telling me “you need to do things for yourself.” but like can i? sorry that woman traumatised me and i actually cant :) #like everything i do is informed by her #I'm going to go and just like everytime the only way to keep my sanity is to mirror her. talk and sit and speak and read and eat like her #and its such a terrifying experience bc i remember that im capable of emulating her viciousness and maybe i am my mother's daugher 🤢🤢🤢 #and im going to come back and its going to take fucking months for me to feel like myself again #“oh you look so beautiful just like your mother” i hope you DIE lol !!! the fact that my conception of beauty was shaped by her #growing up with this cruel beautiful detached woman and realising that at the intersection of beauty and wickness is a lifetime of pain #and still being so desperate for her approval- for any metaphysical proximity to her that i felt elated when #people would tell me i look like her. that it meant i was also beautiful like her and maybe she'll love me a little for it #but now i know for a fact that i do look like her and it makes saliva swell under my tongue - that moment right before you throw up- #when people mention it 😍 #last time i was in capetown my optic neuritis flared up (and i know for a fact it was that it was ms-stress related from having to see her) #and i thought i hid it so well even though i had near constant headaches & lethargy until she said “katherine give me the red notebook” #and i knew that she knew all along. it was so acutely humiliating standing there and knowing she knows i cant see which one is the red one #and she tilted her head and said “whats the matter? do you not know what red looks like?” #im never going to have kids. my mother and i read eachother so well it can only mean im never too far removed from becoming her #lol!!!!!!!!!

[badgersprite]

Fic: Hospitality (1/1)

Fandom: Critical Role

Characters: Imogen Temult, Laudna

Pairing: Imogen/Laudna

Story Rating: PG

Warnings: None.

Summary: Imogen Temult grew up hearing scary stories of witches in the woods, as everyone does. When news reaches her that a monstrous hag has taken root in the forest and cast a blight on her town, she’s desperate enough to find any means of controlling her powers and curing her headaches that she’s prepared to seek out this twisted creature, even if it kills her.

Author’s Note: A little headcanon I have for how Imogen and Laudna met, which I’m sure will be proven wrong in due course, but the writing bug struck me and I had to get it out. There’s a companion piece to this coming which doesn’t have to be read with this but which treats this meeting as canon.

(AO3 Link)

*     *.    *

Every kid grows up hearing scary stories of hags in the woods. Evil, misshapen witches clothed in rags with scraggly hair and long skinny fingers in grimy huts teeming with spiders and rats. Inevitably all those fables ended with some naughty children who wandered too far into the forest being cooked up in her giant cauldron while the wicked witch laughed her maniacal laugh and grinned the most terrifying, inhuman grin any five-year-old could conjure up in their imagination.

You were no different. You’d heard all those stories too. And you weren’t immune to them. You hid under your covers and checked real careful under your bed a couple times after hearing fairy stories about hags and witches when you were little, especially after you did something bad and you thought they might come through your window at night and eat you for it. 

You’d never heard tales of a real witch, though. Or hag. Not anywhere near you.

Not until all of a sudden the day comes along that you do.

As it so happens, things aren’t going your way. When are they ever?

Money’s tight. Always is. What little you can scrounge together that doesn’t go to keeping a roof over your head and food in your stomach goes towards sampling whatever treatments you can find for your ailment. Anything to ease the pain, since nothing ever quiets the whispers short of keeping your distance from folks.

Nothing ever works, but you haven’t given up yet. Giving up would mean, well, giving up. Accepting that you have to live like this forever. With this pain. This constant anxiety even being around people, because you know how much it hurts when you are. And if that’s your reality you’re not sure what you’ll fucking do to yourself, but you’re not ready to get that drastic.

You’ve been on your own for a while now. A good few years, you have to reckon. Ever since you were little, you’ve had…problems. And people noticed. Like, say, trouble keeping track of things you were told versus things you heard that you weren’t supposed to. Other folk never liked that. Not even your own family did.

Then again, you also liked your own kin less when you learned things about them they didn’t mean for you to find out. Not because you were prying, just because you could never help hearing thoughts that weren’t yours. Like who’d had affairs with who. When people were lying about not having had anything to drink. Who had hit who. Whether or not certain fathers were in fact the fathers of their presumed kids. And what your family really thought about you and your abilities.

So many secrets. So many fucking secrets. So many lies.

You never care if you see any of them again. They’re not family to you anymore. 

You’ve tried to control your powers. You’re still trying. You’d trade anything to be able to make this stop. To just be normal. Or, if not to be normal, then to not feel like your head is constantly exploding. To be able to focus on one specific person instead of hearing the thoughts of thirty people at once against your will.

But you can’t. You don’t even know where to begin.

The doorbell tingles on your way out of the apothecary as you stuff your satchel with a new remedy that most likely won’t do shit for your headaches when you’re jostled by some young boys racing past you. Their haste prompts you to glance up and take note of the commotion going on in the town square.

Ordinarily, you avoid crowds. Avoid noise. Mind your business. But something sparks your curiosity and compels you to take the risk today. To brave the pain.

Turns out the whole town is in a tizzy. Eye witnesses report their sightings of a monstrous hag in the forest around town. A shadowy, raven-haired witch clad in black rags has appeared in the area recently, and placed a curse upon the land.

Who else could be to blame for the poor harvest this year? For the sudden spike in rats? For old Mrs Baker falling ill all of a sudden, in a most unnatural way?

The crowd nods and murmurs in agreement, hearing sense being spoken.

The purpose of the meeting in the square is to spread the word that a militia is banding together, recruiting any able-bodied volunteers to track down the hag and deal with her, whether by driving her out or killing her. Some among the crowd seem to expect she’ll be too powerful to slay, especially without the aid of specialist adventuring types, but if they can locate her hut and purge it with fire perhaps she’ll simply get the message and move on of her own accord. 

Well, that is if she doesn’t seek vengeance on the town and murder everyone, but you don’t voice that thought out loud. Not your monkeys, not your circus.

It’s at about that point in the discussion that you stop listening and slip away, leaving them to it. It’s none of your business. You don’t feel much like partaking. Not to sound callous, but you don’t honestly care what happens one way or the other. Even though you’ve lived here your whole life, you still feel like a stranger. You’ve never belonged here. Never been able to form connections. Always been alone, even when surrounded by people. Hell, especially then.

Ideally, sure, you don’t want your town plagued by a malevolent witch, but your solution to that is equally just to be out of here tomorrow if the witch isn’t killed, just to be on the safe side. You wouldn’t be missing out on anything if you left.

That being said, though, it would be nice if you weren’t so powerless. If you could help. If you weren’t so...devoid of any agency and control over your own life. 

You have some abilities. You always have, but you don’t understand them well enough to where you could be of any use in a scrape. Worse, whenever you get the headaches and the whispers take hold, you become so...weak. So vulnerable. 

Whatever this magic is that made you this way, it’s a fuckin’ curse.

It’s only then as you’re on your way home that you stop in your tracks and start to think. Didn’t the hags you’d heard about in the stories always know things? Weren’t they privy to all kinds of secret, dark magics? Weren’t they exactly the sorts of twisted, malicious entities who cast curses like this on people? And weren’t they often willing to trade information, in exchange for deals?

Sure, dealing with hags always went bad for anyone in the stories, but those were just fairy stories to frighten children. You’re not a child. Even if things do go wrong, there’s a whole militia forming to deal with this hag. They’ll come along soon after and kill her anyway, right? Call it insurance - if things get hairy, you just have to survive long enough for the angry mob to come bail you out.

Besides, it’s not like you have any other options.

Hell, maybe this pain in your brain is all this witch’s fault to begin with. Maybe she was the one who did this to you in the first place. It’s not impossible. Cursing you when you were a baby and returning years later to mess with you as an adult for some insidious purpose? That sounds...vaguely hag-like.

Maybe she can fix you. Hags have powerful magic. They can do things. She’ll probably want something in exchange but, frankly, there are few things you won’t trade that aren’t worth it to you. Anything is better than living like this.

You’re desperate. You’ll do anything to make the pain stop. To have answers.

No matter how terrible an idea you know it is, you don’t really have a say in whether or not you’ll go. Your feet are already moving in that direction before your mind can come up with reasons why you shouldn’t.

It’ll be fine. Right? Yeah. Sure. It’ll be...It’ll be fine.

You chase down the person from the town square who was the last eye witness to the hag and gather as much information as you can about where to start your search, under the guise that you’re going to join the mob. You confirm the hunt for the hag is going to happen that night. That gives you a window of a couple of hours to find her before they burn the forest down to drive her out.

With that in mind, you collect your things and venture out without dilly-dallying. You can’t take the chance that this witch might know something about your condition, only to vanish without a trace before you can speak to her.

Predictably, you get lost in the woods. Of course you do. It’s not like you’re a seasoned explorer. It feels like you’ve been trudging around there in circles for an eternity getting absolutely nowhere when you trip over your own boots and cut a gash in your shirt on a stray branch.

You groan. That’s going to be a bitch to fix.

Just when you’ve convinced yourself that this is the single worst idea you’ve ever had in your life and you should head back so you aren’t still stranded out here by the time the sun sets and the forest is lit ablaze, you pause. You smell smoke.

You narrow in on the scent, and follow your senses.

Brown autumn leaves crunch underfoot as you come upon a small, barren grove. A damp campfire smoulders with weak flames under a skewering stick, cooking what appears to be two rats. From the looks of things, it can’t have been burning too long. There’s still fur on them.

Behind the fire stands a hut. It’s small, only one little room. It looks like a strong breeze could tear it apart. The frame is constructed out of damp, mossy, dark wood. Has it rained recently? You hadn’t noticed the weather these past few days, being shut in by yourself as you so often are.

Part of the structure is held together with vines and natural cording, but there’s also rope. Hempen rope, that you can tell. The rope you can make out looks to be old, frayed, like it’s been used and cut many times over.

If you had to hazard a guess, you’d figure the witch has been here for a little while. How else could she be as set up as this? Probably been here a couple weeks, at least, to build something of that nature. And, from the looks of things, she’s home.

Your ears twinge. You hear something. A voice. Maybe two? It’s not clear. Almost sounds like humming or singing, sort of. But real quiet. You can’t make out what it’s saying, if anything.

You swallow, suddenly wondering if you haven’t bitten off a whole lot more than you can chew coming out here alone.

“...Hello?” you call out.

The voices inside the hut fall quiet. Then you hear movement.

Your pulse starts racing before your eyes even see the looming shadow. Long, slender fingers curl around the doorframe. A glint of light flashes across dark, doll-like eyes. And then a mouth. An unhinged, toothy smile emerges.

And then she speaks.

“Pâté, my dear, we have company...” Her voice practically drips as she moves her hands together, long strands of black hair matching the scrappy strips that make up her dress.

You have to will yourself to keep from recoiling in instinctive fear and revulsion.

She looks...not entirely human, but close enough to be unsettling. Almost more like a corpse. A living corpse.

You can’t speak. Part of you wants to drop your shit and run. But you intuit that making a bad impression right now would end badly for you. Really badly. So perhaps being frozen in place isn’t the worst option you could’ve gone with.

If it gets you out of here alive, you’ll take it.

The witch outstretches her hands. Black cords snap around her fingertips. You dare to shift your eyes. They widen as you realise what you’re looking at.

“Don’t be rude!” the hag says in a different voice, puppeteering the body of a rat with the skull of a raven sewn onto it. “Invite her inside! Offer her tea!”

“Oh, you are quite right, Pâté. How terribly thoughtless of me,” the witch responds to herself in her original voice. She gestures to you. “Come, come. You must join me. This will be ever so delightful. It’s been so long since...” She trails off, and tilts her head at an extremely disconcerting angle. “You are real, aren’t you?”

You blink out of your horrified stupor. “What?”

“You exist?” she reiterates, with a little more urgency.

“I...I believe so, yes,” you half-stammer, surprised by the question. “But then how are any of us to know? I only know what I experience.”

You silently curse yourself as your response registers in your mind.

Why the fuck did you say that? Stop yammering before you get yourself killed.

The witch contemplates your reply for a moment. The rat-raven jolts disturbingly into motion again. “She makes a good point, you know,” the witch speaks in its over-exaggerated voice, animating its movements by plucking at its black, sinew-like strings. “At the end of the day, all of us experience a distinct subjective reality. It is impossible to prove or disprove the existence of consciousness in another being. But I, for one, do vouch for her authenticity as an autonomous living being; she is not a figment of your imagination.”

The witch nods. “Mhmm. Mhmm. Very well. Pâté has convinced me. Tea it is!”

With a swish of her long, tattered dress, she disappears back into the shadows of her hut, leaving you standing there at the edge of the grove, having not dared to shift so much as a single, solitary inch from when she first appeared.

You stare stunned, scarcely able to comprehend what you’ve just witnessed.

The townsfolk were right. The monster from the children’s stories is real. She was standing there in front of you. You just had a conversation with her.

And now you’re going to go inside her house and have tea with her.

Because you’re a fucking idiot.

But now you’re at the point where you can’t exactly refuse an invitation, can you? That would be discourteous. And being rude to a hag never ends well, does it? What kind of sick, twisted puppet would she turn you into if you rejected her hospitality, you wonder? You shudder at the thought. You’re really in a bind now.

You have to accept.

Tentatively, you approach the hut, and step inside.

It’s exactly as small on the inside as it looked from the outside. If there were any more than two people inside, it would start to get mighty uncomfortable.

You watch the witch gather some things together on a little makeshift kitchen bench under the window, casting a spell on a kettle to heat up the water. She pauses, cradling a teacup in her hands.

“Oh dear. That’s right. I only have…” She hesitates, tracing her fingernails against it as she glances over at you, then back at the singular teacup in her possession. A wide grin comes to her lips. “You are my guest. You must have it.”

With that, she pours the tea. 

You flinch. “Oh, no. I’m fine. Really, I--”

“Come, now. I must insist. I’m not a fool. I live quite a ways away from civilisation. I know you must have travelled some distance to reach here. So, please. Besides, I’ve no shortage of tea I can drink later. I’ll be quite alright.” She extends her hand, offering you the tea, not letting you wave your hand to decline it.

You sigh. She is being courteous to you. It would be rude to refuse.

Even if she isn’t planning on turning you into anything unnatural just for being uncivil, it’s in that very moment that you realise just how much it goes against every fibre of your upbringing to act disrespectfully right now. After all, you’re a guest in someone else’s home. And she’s (ostensibly) being friendly.

“Thank you,” you say, having no choice but to accept the tea against your will.

For fuck’s sake. Your habitual politeness is literally going to get you killed, isn’t it?

You sit down on a makeshift stool (little more than a very nicely chosen tree stump) by the shoddily handcrafted table in the hut. In your reluctance to take a sip of the tea lest you find out too late that it’s been poisoned somehow, you can’t help but notice all the little cracks in the cup. They’re minute, almost imperceptible. It’s as if the cup has been broken and mended a thousand times over.

You idly ponder what kind of life this fragile teacup has lived to carry so many scars. It almost makes you feel sorry for the poor thing.

Your eyes dart up, and lock on the witch. You’re momentarily startled to find her dilated pupils already fixed upon you from afar, watching you expectantly.

Well shit, you have to do this, don’t you?

You steel yourself, and take a sip. To your surprise, it’s good. Maybe not as sweet as you’re used to having it, but it ain’t half bad.

“This is very nice,” you say sincerely.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” she chirps with delight, clasping her hands together.

The witch practically floats over towards the table as if stepping on her tiptoes under her dress, a motion which is a little disconcerting. When she moves uncannily like that, it jolts you back to your senses. You remember what she is, and that there has to be some sort of catch to this, doesn’t there? This greeting people with tea at her door can only be an act, right? After all, look at her.

Just as the witch is about to take her seat across the table, she hesitates. Her face falls as she looks upon you. “Goodness. What happened to your shirt?”

You glance down, reflexively rubbing the hole. Aw, heck. You’d forgotten about that. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Had a fall on the way over. Got a tear, is all.”

“Well, that won’t do. Let me patch that up for you,” she says, stepping closer.

You involuntarily tense and try to shift back, deeply uncomfortable with the thought of her getting any nearer than she already is. “No! No, thank you. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. Here. Now. How are you?” You cringe, internally and externally. “Uh, what I mean is, I can sew this right up when I get home.”

“Nonsense. You are my guest. It’s been so lovely having you here, and I can’t stand the thought that any harm befell you on your way to visit me. Here, I insist.” She reaches out and touches your shirt where the hole is. You squeeze your eyes shut, and hold your breath, your whole body teeming with goosebumps, not sure what she intends for you as her hand moves. Then, a moment later… “Done!”

You open one eye, and look down. Your shirt is pristine. You can hardly believe it, examining for any trace of damage as the witch slips into her seat across from you, her head resting in her hands as she stares at you like she thinks you’re just the best darn thing in the world.

“I…” You know deep down that this has to be a trick. She has to be manipulating you. Just like the stories. Hags always deceive people to goad them into letting their guard down. To make themselves seem trustworthy when they aren’t. You know this. But, in the moment, all your instincts and social graces tell you to reciprocate kindness with kindness. “Thank you so much. This is honestly about the only shirt I have. You’ve, uh...You’ve been a most gracious host.”

“I’m pleased you think so! I’ve been practicing. Rehearsing, really. In my mind. For a very long time. You know, just on the off-chance someone might eventually pop by.” The witch gives a sort of flop of her wrists as she chats with you in her over-exaggerated sing-song like tone you’ve just started to grow accustomed to. “Speaking of which, if it’s not too much trouble, might I inquire...who are you and why are you here?” she asks, her wide smile not once changing shape.

“Oh! I am so sorry, where are my manners?” you somewhat nervously reply, hoping you haven’t erred by disrespecting her hospitality. “I’m Imogen. Imogen Temult. I live in the town about three hours from here. Maybe closer to two if I knew better where I was going.”

“Imogen. Lovely to make your acquaintance. And I’m…” She trails off, the smile fading from her face. Your own expression flickers with interest as you study hers. Now what is that reaction?

Before the silence can linger, the puppet pops back out.

“Well, well, well, this is embarrassing! It’s been so long since you’ve talked to anyone, you’ve forgotten your name, haven’t you, you crazy bitch?” the puppet addresses its puppeteer, gesturing towards her with its little paws.

“Oh, Pâté, you’re so funny! To think I would forget my own name! How could you suggest such a thing? You really are too much.” The witch laughs off the suggestion like this is all part of a bit, and she’s in some sort of pantomime.

You know she’s lying. You don’t need to read her mind for that. The part you’re unsure about is whether this is all just some sort of ploy to get your sympathy.

Because, if it is, it’s...weirdly working.

And if it’s not an act, then...

“I do know my name. Of course I do! I was thinking about it so recently, I was just saying to myself, I was using it in a sentence, I…” A flash of recognition passes across her face. Her dark eyes light up as she lifts her gaze back to you. “Laudna. My name is Laudna. So, Imogen, what brings you to my abode?” she asks, her tone practically dancing on every word, as if revelling in this conversation.

You blink and shake your head, still thrown by what happened a moment ago, and not sure what to make of the woman across from you. “I’m, uh...I’m looking for help, I guess,” you elect to be honest with her. This is why you’re here, after all.

“Help?” Laudna echoes, intrigued.

“Of the arcane variety,” you specify, toying with the teacup. “Ever since I was little, I’ve had...abilities. Not ones I ever had to work for, I just do. And I don’t know why, or how, but I’m desperate for answers. Because the way things are now, I can’t control it. All I know is it hurts, and I can’t be around people, and I--”

Laudna’s fingers touch your wrist, as if to calm you. Strangely, this time, you don’t recoil or flinch. It doesn’t even occur to you that you should until long after the impulse would have passed.

You swallow, realising you were rambling. “Anyway, I heard about you bein’ in the area and, well, seein’ as you might know a thing or two about magic, I wondered if you might be able to help.”

“Could you show me these abilities?” Laudna asks, her voice softening, losing its prior flamboyance. If you didn’t know better, you would swear on your life that she’s actually taking your problem extremely seriously right now. “Not if it will hurt you, of course, but I do know a little of magic.”

You hesitate. You’ve been in this position before. Told people what you can do. Trusted them. Had them ask you to do things. Only for them not to be able to handle what you really are, whatever that is. What you can really do. For them to leave you. Betray you. Disappoint you.

“Are you sure?” you check.

Laudna nods.

You exhale.

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

But you do it anyway.

You open your mind. And you touch her thoughts.

There are only two of you there. It’s not a crowd. So you’re able to handle it. This is the ideal. You don’t get a headache. Not that being alone is a guarantee that you won’t. But today you don’t.

You hear her voice clearly inside your mind.

And it’s not what you expect.

I hope I can help her. Imogen has been so kind to me. It would be awful if there’s nothing I can do. I hope she won’t hate me if I can’t offer her any answers.

Your eyebrow twitches. Huh?

Do you think she likes me? She’s been so much nicer than anyone else I’ve ever met. She hasn’t run me out or tried to hurt me yet. That must be a good sign. 

A different voice pops in. A darker voice. A whisper.

Don’t be a fool. Of course she doesn’t like you. Nobody does.

“I like you just fine, Laudna,” you speak up before you even know what you’re saying. A look of astonishment passes across her face. You almost kick yourself for your careless words, knowing this could backfire. But, then again, she did ask you to demonstrate your abilities. “You’ve been nothing but courteous to me.”

“Oh my word. That is...impressive.” She curls her fingers under her chin, rubbing it in contemplation. “Can you do anything else?”

You look down at the teacup. You place both your hands on the table, so Laudna can see them. Without moving a finger or uttering a sound, using nothing but the power of your mind, you imagine a spectral hand lifting the teacup. Lo and behold, it levitates in front of you, as delicately as if you’d picked it up with your fingers.

“...Bravo.” Laudna gives a little clap as you put the teacup back down.

While she applauds, you silently focus on her, not sure whether you trust the surface thoughts you read a moment ago. She’s a powerful witch, right? Wouldn’t it be easy for her to put up some kind of illusory front to fool you? Those thoughts you heard before couldn’t be real. Could they?

“I must say, you seem to be quite preternaturally gifted, Imogen. A talent like yours is something that should be nurtured, not feared. I can certainly help you practice your magic if you desire such assistance, which would mean you gain more control, but...if I am to be completely honest with you, I know little more of the arcane than you do. I wish I did, but I have many questions of my own. I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you,” she reluctantly confesses.

You don’t believe her. You refuse to. You didn’t come all this way for nothing.

You dig deeper into her mind. Pushing further, while you still have time.

“What questions do you have?” you ask, distracting her from what you’re doing. By the time she feels it, it will be too late.

“Oh. You know. The usual,” Laudna deflects, giving a little waggle of her head, falling back into her more flamboyant voice and gesturing while she talks.

This is the only good first impression you’ve made in...what year is it? You can’t ruin it, Laudna. If she sees what you are, she’ll react just like everyone else.

“I don’t know, actually,” you press, pushing deeper. 

Laudna arches a single eyebrow at you, tenting her fingers together. “I can feel you doing that,” says Laudna. She knows. When you go beyond the surface, they always know you’re doing it.

“Should I stop?” you challenge, mirroring her expression, seeing how she’ll react.

You’ve already dug one layer further.

You feel it. Laudna’s nervous, but more uncertain than outright scared. She’s hiding something from you. And there’s something else. Something...sad. You don’t quite know how to describe it. Like a sense of resignation. Knowing the outcome of something before it even happens.

Laudna continues to hold your stare. She’s not angry at what you’re doing. Not frightened of you. Not upset. If anything, it’s more like she’s impressed by your boldness and daring. She’s not threatened by you.

She could fight back against your probing. But she’s not. She’s not resisting you.

And then you realise why.

“No secrets between friends, Imogen,” she says. You feel her emotions shift as she makes that decision - that decision that she’s going to take a leap of faith.

She trusts you.

And she opens her mind like a book to you, breaking down that last barrier so you don’t even have to do it against her will.

She exposes everything to you, as completely as she can. And you’re blown away.

You see so much.

You see more than you’ve ever seen from another person.

It’s as if years - literal years of memories and lived experiences and emotions flash through your mind in the span of about six seconds.

For a moment, you feel what it’s like to die a horrible death, and wake up not entirely the same as you were before. You experience what it is to wander the world a shadow of what you once were, not understanding why everyone now perceives you as their waking nightmare.

You feel what it is to be alone for decades. Decades. So long that you can’t even comprehend how much time is passing. And through it all you’re drowning. You’re drowning in so much loneliness that it feels like it’s never going to end.

You choke. Sobs tear themselves from your throat so violently you can’t breathe.

Laudna’s soul has touched yours.

You’ve seen her. 

You know her, more completely than you’ve ever known anybody. Even yourself.

And she’s not a monster. Far from it.

She’s a person.

She’s literally just a person. A broken, damaged person who has been through so much trauma that you can’t stand it. And yet, despite being murdered and isolated and feared by anyone who came across her just for her appearance, she’s somehow maintained this genuine, heartfelt sweetness, so much so that all she wanted to do when she met you was be nice to you and make a friend.

It would have been so easy to hate the entire world and everyone in it, but not Laudna. Despite outward appearances, even after death corrupted her body, she never succumbed to that inner darkness. She’s just been lonely. Wanting to love, and be loved. Forgetting how to be a person. Being treated like a monster.

And you were the same.

You were the same as everyone else.

What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you assume the worst about her?

Laudna kneels at your side, touching your arms as you weep, completely and utterly wrecked. You can feel the concern radiating off of her in waves.

Even now, she’s thinking about you. Not herself.

“Imogen? Are you alright? What’s wr--”

Before Laudna even knows what’s happening, you’re hugging her. So tightly. This time, she’s the one who flinches. You don’t care. She doesn’t know that you know it’s the first time she’s been hugged in decades. Or maybe she does.

“I...Imogen?” she stammers, confused.

As you hold her, you regret using your abilities on her the way you did. You know you shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t fair. To know things that aren’t yours to know. And yet you also don’t. Because Laudna trusted you to know what you do. And, if you hadn’t done it, maybe you never would have seen her for who she really is. Maybe you would have kept judging her unfairly, and never realised what an incredible human being you’ve stumbled across. Albeit, an undead one.

“You’re a good person, Laudna,” you tell her. You need her to know that.

You feel her tilt her head. “...I am?” 

You nod into her shoulder. “You’re nice. And sweet. And kind. Fuck everyone else who doesn’t see it.”

Laudna stiffens at that, but relents and gives you a light pat on the back of the head, uneasily surrendering to your embrace. “Well, I think you are nice, and sweet, and kind, and a good person. You are, after all, the first person who has...spoken to me without attacking me in quite some time,” she admits as she gently grips your arms and awkwardly pulls away from the hug.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Laudna says to herself in her Pâté voice.

“I said person, Pâté. You are a dead rat with a raven skull,” Laudna answers back.

You giggle to yourself. Everything that once seemed scary and frightening about Laudna is now just...well, it’s still weird and kooky, sure, but it’s just Laudna being Laudna. And in retrospect you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

She’s not hurting anyone. This is just how she’s survived. Being perceived as a monster by the world and forced to live alone for as long as she has would drive anyone a little mad. Who are you to judge her coping mechanisms?

That thought sends a spark of recognition through your head.

“Oh, shit,” you curse as you remember. You grab her wrist. “Laudna, I have to tell you. You’re not safe here. There are people coming. As in tonight. We need to leave. We need to get you out of here,” you warn her.

“What? Oh, but I was just starting to like this place. Things were really looking up--” Her visible disappointment freezes mid-sentence. “...What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We. You and I. Plural first person pronoun,” you answer, finishing the last of the tea. You don’t even need to think about it. You’ve already made the decision, before you even knew you had. “I’m coming with you.”

“You…” Laudna trembles a little as the thought registers. She turns away, and moves to stand over in the corner.

Pâté comes out. “Sorry, but Laudna is not available right now. She’s having one of her frequent mental breakdowns! Please leave a message and she’ll get back to you as soon as she’s recovered a baseline level of sanity.”

You smirk, pulling up your backpack and placing it on the table. “Sure thing, Pâté. I know you’ve been through this a couple times. You can let me know if there’s anything Laudna needs help packin’.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, you are signing up to travel into uncharted territory all by yourself with a demonstrably unstable lunatic,” Pâté speaks to you. Laudna remains staunchly facing the corner, refusing to acknowledge your existence even as she puppets the rat. “For all you know, she’s a bloody psychopath and you’re going to be murdered in your sleep! Why are you doin’ this?”

You laugh at that. A few minutes ago, that reasoning would have made complete sense. But you’ve looked into her soul now. You know damn well Laudna isn’t going to murder you, whether in your sleep or otherwise. Laudna wouldn’t...well, okay, Laudna would hurt flies. But only ‘cause those fuckers have it coming.

You’re not a fly, though.

You’ve felt Laudna’s loyalty. The trust she placed in you. You’ve...honestly never felt this comfortable around another person before. This secure. This open.

You literally never need to question whether she’ll be there for you.

You already know the answer.

“I already told Laudna,” you respond to Pâté. “I like her. I think she’s a kind person. Plus, she has been great company. I enjoyed myself a lot today. We hit it off real well. I, for one, would like to keep a good thing goin’.”

“But you’re not like her,” Pâté argues. “You’re...normal.”

You chuckle self-deprecatingly. “I’m not, actually.”

“You don’t talk to dead rats,” Pâté points out.

“That is currently exactly what I’m doing,” you counter.

“...You’ve got me there. But, nevertheless, you do come off as a charming and amiable young lady. And, if I may say so, you are indeed very attractive.” You arch an eyebrow at that, and clear your throat a little. Is that the rat talking, or Laudna? “Wouldn’t you prefer to live in a town? Surrounded by regular people? Friends? Shops? Everything you won’t have if you leave with this batty tart?”

You’ve already stepped forward by the time Laudna-via-Pâté finishes that question. You place your hand on Laudna’s arm, gently guiding her to put the puppet down, and stop hiding her very real insecurities behind that façade.

“Laudna,” you begin. She doesn’t need to face you if she’s not ready, but you’re talking to her, directly. No rats. “I fucking hate my life. I hate it. I can’t...I can’t stand being around people because the whispers get so loud that it hurts. Being with you? It’s the quietest my mind has ever been. I actually feel safe here, especially now that I know I can trust you. Really trust you. And what you said before, about working with you to practice my powers, I want to do that. I do,” you implore her to believe you. “I...I know you’re not freaked out by me--”

“Why would anyone be ‘freaked out’ by you?” Laudna asks without moving, genuinely baffled by that proposition. “You’re…”

“Not you?” you take a guess at what she’s thinking. You utter a snort. “Listen, the world’s full of dicks. You’re not the only one who’s been treated badly by folks. You’ve just...had it worse than most. A lot worse.” You sigh, not wanting to read her mind to see if this is reaching her. “Look, what I’m saying is that I’d rather be alone with the one, real, decent person I’ve met who actually seems to care about me, and who could really use a friend, than be...I don’t know…”

“...Surrounded by dicks?” Laudna suggests, the hint of a smile in her voice.

You laugh. “Yeah. See? Glad we’re in agreement.”

You head back to your backpack. Laudna still hasn’t faced you, but you figure there’s not really anything she can do to stop you going with her. You’re coming with her whether she wants you or not.

And she does want you there.

You know she does.

She wants you there so badly her soul is crying out for it. She’s been alone for so long. But, then, that’s also why she’s hesitant. Because she’s Laudna. And she’s kind. And it tears her apart to think that she might be subjecting you to the exact same isolation and torment she’s been suffering with alone for the past...she doesn’t know how many years.

At long last, she turns, determined to put an end to this foolish idea.

“Imogen,” she calls out to you, a protestation layered with all sorts of reasons why you should reconsider and why this isn’t going to work and why she’s afraid you’re going to leave her. You wait, your hand half in your backpack. She hesitates. She has too many things she could say, all of them far too complex to give voice to. The singular objection she settles on as black tears start to trickle from her eyes is, “I only have one teacup.”

You chuckle, shrugging off the thought. “I’ll pick one up some place. Then we’ll have two.” You flash her something between a smile and a smirk. “Sound good?”

Laudna’s throat is so strangled with emotion she can only contain herself enough to choke out a half-whispered, “...Yes. That sounds lovely.”

She wants to break down and cry but she doesn’t. She keeps her composure. And gathers her things. After all, the two of you are leaving together. And she wouldn’t want to hold you up.

“You’ll have to show me how you make these huts, it’s very impressive,” you comment to make conversation as you and Laudna start to take your leave.

She clears her throat. “Of course. I’ve, uh...got it down to a bit of a fine art.” Her grin comes back, and so does the flamboyant voice as you both exit through the front door. “It’s certainly going to be easier with two sets of hands. Even being out here as long as I have, I can’t exactly claim it’s made me any ‘brawnier’.”

“Oh, no, really?” you feign shock. From what you’ve seen of Laudna, her arms are about as close you can get to just literally being skin on bones. “I mean, I’m not exactly a lifter, either. I mean, I can lift books.”

“Two bodies still work faster than one,” Laudna happily points out, not about to criticise you. Laudna collects the two rats that she cooked over the fire, offering you one. You politely decline. You’re sure you’ll get used to her diet soon enough but not just yet - not while you’ve still got rations.

You never fully forgive yourself for your initial reaction to Laudna being exactly the same as everyone else’s. But it also means you don’t really blame or judge others when they’re frightened of her. How can you, when you were?

As long as they’re willing to give her a chance, and look past that exterior, that’s all you can ask. That’s all it takes to realise what an incredible person she is.

And now you have a reason to concentrate on your abilities. Develop them, rather than suppress them. Work on them, rather than just hide them. Because you don’t merely want to get stronger in some ethereal sense.

No. You have a clear motive, at least for the short term. And that’s to get strong enough that, if anyone tries to hurt Laudna again, you can fucking kill them.

#fic #critical role #southern gothic #femslash #imogen temult #laudna

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [7]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself busy.

Note: I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided... You were overly alert and entirely uncertain. 

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, how would you even pick him out? You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has-- Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. A lot.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

“I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because...you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet. 

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself. 

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn't mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big--”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need--”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t--”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant--” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk. 

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #au

[rwby-grimm-guardians]

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 2

Side White I: Family Drama

Welcome back to Separate Union! Here is Side White, which revolves around Weiss and Arktis’s experience in Atlas. The constant theme of this side is, obviously, Arktis...or rather, WILLOW becoming more frustrated and angry with Jacques. Willow will be referred as Willow and not Arktis for this arc...and maybe onward.

A specific theme of this chapter is the former heiress and Klein talking about how they can make sure Willow can prevent her children from ending up like their father. As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

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

(Several months after the Fall of Beacon, in Schnee Manor, Altas…)

Late at night, Willow Arktis Schnee sat in the manor’s library, reading a random book. Despite looking at the pages, she wasn't paying attention to it. She was more focused on what had happened earlier in the day… “Fuck…” The former heiress sighed, tossing the book on the table, before rubbing her eyes. These past few months have been… Well, increasingly frustrating for her. Not just because of what happened to Beacon, but also because of her husband, Jacques… Or was he her widow now?

She had no clue. Hell, for what Jacques and the rest of Atlas knew, Willow was still dead. “Maybe it’s better that I STAY that way to them.” She mumbled, laying on the couch and closing her eyes as she recalled the events leading up to now…

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

(Over the past few months…)

1st Month

Willow and Weiss had returned to Atlas, where they were immediately greeted by a few individuals. Firstly was, quite predictably, General Ironwood and the Atlas Military, who had also returned quite recently. While he gave them a brief rundown of what had happened in Beacon, it was mostly information that the two already knew. That is, until he brought up what had happened to the headmaster.

At the moment and according to their current understanding, Beacon Headmaster Evergreen Ozpin Brown was dead... Needless to say, neither of them had expected that information…

The two went into the Manor afterwards, hoping to think over the events at Beacon...and comprehend them. They were soon greeted by a very worried Winter, who hugged them tightly. “Are you two okay? What happened? Are your friends alright?” She began asking, receiving a small smile from her mother. “Slow down, hun. Breathe…” Willow said. “Yes, we’re safe. Yes, our friends are safe...or as safe as they can be, at least…” “A...lot of chaos happened in Beacon.” She sighed tiredly.

The two Schnees then gave Winter a run down of the recent events. “Lieber Gott…” The Special Operative whispered. Willow nodded, “Dear god is right… Yang, Ruby, and her family are safe and healing. So are Blake and Gambol.” Winter nodded, “What of the headmaster…?” The former heiress froze, before looking at the floor with a sorrowful expression. Hesitantly, Weiss said, “He’s...gone… We don’t know...if that means he’s been captured or…” She didn’t dare finish the sentence.

“What happens now?” Weiss asked. Winter held her sister’s shoulders and looked at her in the eye, “Right now, we settle down for a while. You two need to heal as well.” She turned to her mother, saying, “I’ll be here for a while, but I won’t be staying at the Manor. You know why.” Nodding, the former heiress sighed, “Damn straight, I do.” After Winter and Weiss entered the teenager’s bedroom, Willow walked to where she knew an old friend would be waiting for her.

Entering the kitchen, Willow leaned against the door frame, saying, “We’re home.” The butler jumped, almost dropping the tea set as he rushed over and hugged the former heiress tightly. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Would you like something? Where’s Weiss?” He began asking, panicking out of his mind as Willow gave a tried smile. “Gods, I missed you, Klein.” She said. “To answer your questions, we are...doing okay, we are safe, and we would like some tea please…”

Klein nodded, before immediately preparing some tea. “A lot has changed while you were gone…” He sighed. Willow raised an eyebrow, “Not in a good way, I assume?” The butler gave a nod, “Whitley...is not doing well...mentally.” “What the hell did that bastard do to him?” The former heiress growled, figuring that this was Jacques’s doing. “You don’t want to know the specifics…” The butler gave a sad sigh. “He’s still alive, but...Jacques is...morphing him. MOLDING him.”

Willow swore she felt her heart stop. Though, despite knowing that information, she never got to see Whitley that month… Even though she actively tried.

2nd Month

The next month, Willow actually MANAGED to see Whitley….and right away, she could tell that Klein was right. Whitley was becoming more like Jacques, even if he didn’t want to. Somehow...he was even looking up to him, despite the fact Jacques was manipulative and controlling. ‘What did you do to my baby boy, you fucker?’ Willow thought as she felt tension between her and Whitley. ‘What the fuck did you do to my children, Jacques…?’

She continued to watch over her children’s interactions with the man, even though Winter had gone back to the military...

3rd Month

The next month, Willow’s depression reared its unwanted head again. Just when she thought she was finally over it, turns out she wasn’t.

She started to blame herself for failing to protect her son, her youngest child,...from becoming like Jacques. As far as she was concerned, it was true...

She was dead for several years…and it was because she committed suicide. As far as she was concerned, she left to escape her own selfish pain...and in doing so, left her three children with a monster.

“Fuck this feeling…” The former heiress whispered, grabbing a bottle of wine and began drinking it. “Fuck it all…” She then blacked out.

She woke up the next day with a massive hangover...and Klein watching over her.

4th Month

Klein, to help Willow, hid and locked the alcohol away. If he wanted to help her overcome her depression, he needed to first help her get sober again. The next morning after he did that, the former heiress awoke with a groan and splitting headache. She groaned, “Verdammte Hölle.” She was in Weiss’s room, with said teenager playing the piano. “Good morning.” Her daughter said. Willow just grunted, her head throbbing, “How was I…?”

“Klein brought you here.” Her daughter said. The heiress then went over and sat on the edge of the bed, asking, “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Willow raised an eyebrow, before sighing, “What is there to say when I’m sure you already know?” “Try me.” Weiss said. The former heiress looked at her daughter for a few moments, before sighing. “So...my depression returned.” She said.

As Weiss gave the woman a cup of tea, Willow explained that it was triggered by thoughts of thinking she failed her children. “I left you three…in the most permanent and selfish way…” She sighed. “I… I committed suicide to….escape my own suffering.” She then looked at her daughter in the eye, “And yet, I made you three suffer because of it.” The heiress said nothing as her mother went on to say, “I KNOW it will NEVER change what I did...or redeem my actions, but I’m sorry….”

“I’m sorry for leaving you three… I’m sorry for not returning sooner…” Willow said, her hand shaking with the cup in her grasp. “I… I’m sorry...for being a terrible mother…” She then felt Weiss wrap her arms around her. The former heiress kept whispering apologies as tears ran down her face....while her daughter held her. Then...there was silence. Weiss looked down as Willow had passed out with the tea cup in her hand. Sighing, she put the cup on the bedside table , before laying her mother back down.

“Mom…” The teenager said, despite knowing her mother couldn’t hear her. “I won’t deny that what you did was wrong. You left us…” She then bit her lip, “But you came back. You’ve been given a chance to redeem yourself for what you did. You can STILL protect and care for us…” “To me….” Weiss started, before holding Willow’s hand. “I think you’ve been doing a good job as a mother since you came back… You just need some help getting on the right track.”

Subconsciously, the former heiress’s hand gripped her daughter’s. It wasn’t much, but it gave Weiss some hope that maybe...just maybe she heard her. “It’ll get better…” The teenager gave a small smile. “Nothing stays bad for long…” With that, she went back to the piano, continuing to play it as Willow slept peacefully.

5th Month

By the time the fifth month came around, Willow had stopped her drinking habits once more. This time, she hoped it would be for good.

6th Month

By the time the sixth month came up, the former heiress had stopped feeling depressed once more. She knew it wouldn’t stay like that….but she prayed that her depression wouldn’t be as severe as it was the next it showed up. Her anger with Jacques, however, was now nearing its boiling point with the man’s demanding behaviour towards Weiss as the Schnee Dust Company’s next heiress.

Willow couldn’t have been more disgusted and furious with Jacques.

7th Month

Finally, after three months of self-hatred and self-blaming, Willow had stopped blaming herself. She now knew that she needed to focus on the now and future. For herself. For Klein. For her children and friends.

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

(Present day…)

Willow perked up when the family butler, Klein entered the room, holding two cups of tea. “Care to have a chat?” He asked with a smile. The former heiress nodded, sitting up as Klein sat next to her. Handing her a cup of tea, the butler sighed, “Winter, Weiss, and Whitley are struggling…” “I know…” Willow said. “Winter has escaped via the military. But who knows how much damage has been done?” Klein nodded, “She’s strong, old friend. But she needs help.”

The woman nodded, “Whitley seems almost beyond repair, given his reactions.” The butler sighed, “That is true… But there IS hope for him.” “Weiss needs to escape.” He said. “She needs a chance...to make things right again.” Willow sighed, “She needs to do what she thinks is right, Klein. Believe me, I want her to get to safety too, but in the end, we can NOT make the decision for her.” “We’d be no better than Jacques if we did…” She explained.

“But she’s…!” Klein started, only to be cut off by his old friend. “In danger? Yes, I know…” She sighed. “However, she’s mature enough to make her own decisions. She is more than capable...of making decisions to protect herself from Jacques. She just needs encouragement to make those decisions.” Willow put the cup on the table, “What we need to ask...is how I am going to be able to protect them… And how am I going to stop that son of a bitch who is their father…”

Klein smiled, “Well, I’m willing to help out as much as I can. You know that.” “Klein, you’re going to get into serious trouble if you do that!” The former heiress nearly shouted. The butler shrugged, “I don't mind. Besides, I’m sure Jacques is planning on letting me go sooner or later.” Willow sighed, “That fucker… We need to get the kids or Jacques out of here as soon as possible.” Klein nodded, “Agreed. The children are not safe with him around. And you WILL save them. I know you can...”

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

Yeah, not the best to end it, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I tried my best to explain the reasons why Arktis is becoming more and more frustrated with Jacques and her struggle on how she’s going to protect her kids…

Next chapter will be the start of both Side Black and Yellow, as it has Blake and Yang chatting. Thought that would make sense. See ya then.

#rwby #rwby au #grimm guardians au #rwby fanfiction #willow schnee #weiss schnee #whitley schnee #klein rwby #tw alchoholism

[rushmanatalie]

and we’ll watch the world crumble (watch the world burn)

Summary: In a galaxy falling apart at its seams, two broken souls find solace in their forbidden connection. But when darkness threatens to destroy everything they know, Rey finds herself forced to choose between what can, and what could have been.

Chapter One

A/N: Of all the things I thought I would be doing this quarantine, I really didn’t expect writing my first reylo fic to be part of it but I guess here we are! Please be gentle, I’m still trying to get all my Star Wars lore correct :) 

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Rey couldn’t sleep.

But then again, after everything that had happened since leaving Jakku, sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for her. Even in the comfort of a sizable cot in her own section of the cave, safe in the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss, Rey felt uneasy giving in to the vulnerability of sleep. As exhausted as she was, falling asleep meant putting her walls down and letting the nightmares and monsters in.

Monsters like him.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his. Warm brown irises flooded with desperation, looking at her, no, into her, as the world around them crashed and burned. In that moment, she saw him clearer than he would ever see himself: a terrified boy, pleading for acceptance and understanding, from a scavenger, nonetheless. She couldn’t help but wonder if he saw her too. Did he see how much she had wanted to take his hand? If only for some form of purpose and clarity, for a chance to no longer feel achingly lonely. Or had he seen the moment she made her decision? The moment she went for the saber.

Luke’s saber. Rey eyed the broken weapon sitting on a bench across from her bed. She had felt wrong in keeping it, knowing it was all the legendary Skywalker had left behind, but Leia’s insistence helped assuage her guilt.

“It’s what he would have wanted,” the general said softly, gently wrapping Rey’s fingers around the saber’s cracked hilt. “You might not think you’re the last Jedi, Rey. But you are the last hope.”

And what a burden it proved to be. Since her floating rock stunt saved the Resistance on Crait, everyone seemed to be constantly staring at her, almost eerily wary of her every move. For a girl who spent most of her life alone in a desert, Rey wasn’t used to being the center of so much attention. But what scared her the most was her inability to discern whether people were looking at her with curiosity or fear. Or, as Poe would put it, a healthy combination of both.

Getting to know Poe was, in many ways, like getting to know a droid. It was very clear from the start that the man was programmed for war. More than once, Rey has caught herself overhearing Poe and Leia discussing weaponry, strategies, treaties, and negotiations, all of which sound like another language to Rey. But Rey soon learned that Poe’s skills as commander were equally matched with his penchant for sarcasm and light-hearted jokes as he and Finn constantly bickered during meal breaks.

Finn, Rey was thrilled to see, had made a full recovery since she had last seen him wounded after the battle on Starkiller base. As her first, and now best friend, Finn shared Rey’s anxieties about fitting in with the Resistance. A turned stormtrooper wasn’t exactly a leading example of a light-side warrior, and though he never voiced his concerns to Rey, Rey could tell Finn was trying to prove his place among the Resistance ranks through his enthusiasm in volunteering for even the simplest of missions.

His new friend, Rose, however, was exactly what Rey imagined Resistance members were like. Of course, it didn’t take much for Rey to like Rose given that she had saved Finn’s life, but Rose was truly sunshine personified. Despite the recent loss of her sister, Rose never ceased to smile. Her kindness toward Rey was more than welcome amidst the wordless stares from most others, and for the first time in her life, Rey found herself glad to be in the company of a woman closer to her age.

Rey huffed a sigh at the thought. It felt so strange that almost a year ago she was alone on Jakku, barely getting by on the meager portions she was able to receive, waiting for a family that would never return. Now she’s a force-sensitive fighting a war, no longer hungry, no longer chained by her past. No longer alone.

She tossed around in her bed, her blankets every bit too warm, but the room too cold all at once. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, letting her mind drift ever so slightly, but to no avail.

Of course, the recent onslaught of piercing headaches didn’t help either. For the past couple weeks, Rey had been experiencing strange migraines. They all start with a slight disturbance in the force, an unexplainable shift that never fails to give Rey goosebumps. Then waves of pain crash through her mind without any more of a warning, as if her brain is being torn to shreds. Luckily for her, they often leave as suddenly as they come, but they’re never any less painful. Unable to do anything about it, the medical droids left Rey to wonder when the next headache would hit, and which one would ultimately kill her in the end.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

The familiar presence slipped so suddenly into Rey’s mind, she sprang up from her sheets. How much had he just heard?

“Get out!”

Kylo Ren sat across from her on the bench, next to the broken shards of his uncle’s parting gift. She couldn’t tell where he was, and for her sake and the Resistance’s, she hoped he couldn’t either.

Rey allowed her eyes to roam over the Supreme Leader, a self defense tactic, she decided, to see if he appeared as a threat. She quickly noted the absence of his lightsaber and stopped herself from reaching for her blaster. Even though she knew from their previous encounters that the weapons didn’t work through their connection, it never hurt to be safe. He donned his usual black tunic and trousers, with heavy duty boots to match, but seemed to forego the formalities of his cape and cowl. The wide belt at his waist emphasized the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His folded hands remained gloved as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

And yet, the one thing that caught her attention the most was the lack of his mask.

Something about his face felt alluring to Rey, and not just in its undeniable vanity. Ever since he had first taken off his mask in front of her, Rey was aware of the vulnerability he allowed himself in her presence. As if she was the only person who could still see the slivers of Ben Solo behind his hardened facade.

Only there was no facade. Not this time. Kylo’s eyes were dark, red-rimmed with sleeplessness and—oh.

Sadness. No, this wasn’t just sadness. This was deeper than that. This was the kind of sadness that eats at the soul, even when there is nothing left but emptiness and a deep, dark ache, and Rey knew the feeling well. But she wasn’t easily fooled.

“I said, get out!”

“You know I would if I could.” He spoke calmly, with little to no antagonization, to Rey’s surprise. If anything, all she could detect was a hint of dejection in his tone.

Rey shook her head in denial. “I don’t understand. Why is this still happening? Snoke’s...”

Kylo’s eye twitched at the mention of his deceased master. “I’m sure you can put it together yourself.”

“He lied,” she finished, more for herself than for him. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised given how the Sith usually deal with manipulation.” She looked at him to see if the jab had struck a nerve, but was disappointed when he remained passive to her comment.

He stood from his seat and walked to the door-like opening where Rey’s little nook met the larger portion of the cave. Avoiding her glare, he stared out the entrance with a pensiveness that reminded Rey of Leia and Rey couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking at in his perspective.

After a moment’s silence, she added, “So how do we end this?”

He heaved a sigh, his gaze falling down to his feet. Rey tried not to notice the way one of his obsidian locks fell over his face. “I don’t know.” The words sounded foreign and almost disturbing coming from him, but Rey hid her discomfort behind knit brows and a tight scowl.

“You don’t know? You’re the Supreme Leader, aren’t you supposed to know about these things? Or were Force Bonds not covered in the murderer handbook?”

“Not one like this.” There was an edge to his voice now that he was growing more and more impatient, but she wasn’t fazed.

“Fine then, I’ll figure out a way to get rid of it since you won’t, you coward.” She let the insult roll off her tongue and watched as it washed over him.

It was as if she had finally pulled the right trigger because all of Kylo’s anger came bubbling up to the surface as he turned to face her. “You don’t think I want to?” He took a step closer and Rey felt herself backing up against the head of her bed as he neared her. Suddenly, reaching for her blaster seemed like a good idea. “I’ve spent the past three weeks trying to sever you from my mind, but each time I do—” He stops, as if trying to put his thoughts into words. “It feels like I’m tearing my own brain apart.”

That explained the headaches. “So that was you. I felt it too.” A chill ran down Rey’s spine as she came to the ugly conclusion, the one neither wanted to acknowledge. “Does that mean...”

The frustration in his eyes turned into an acceptance as his expression hardened. “That’s the only way it ends.”

A month ago, Rey wouldn’t have thought twice about killing Kylo Ren. Hell, she even had a fair try at it, the jagged scar across his face serving as a constant reminder of his close defeat. But after they had touched hands on Ahch To, things were...different. Somehow, the thought of him dead now made her stomach churn and her eyes burn, and yet she couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be. Not if…if...” she trailed off.

“If what?” he challenged.

“You know what.”

“Say it, Rey.” She shivered at her name, spoken like a curse. “I want you to say it.”

It would be so easy to continue fighting him, but she didn’t see the point. Reluctantly, she said what he wanted to hear. “If you turned. Joined the Resistance.” Joined me. “Why didn’t you?”

This was the first time she had really asked him sincerely, the question that had been plaguing her mind. He turned away from her again, and for a second, Rey didn’t think he was going to respond, but his low voice broke the silence. “The same reason why you didn’t accept my offer.” He squared his shoulders, back still to her, and though his mask was nowhere to be seen, Rey felt as if he had just put it back on. “We are who we are. What’s the use in fighting it if it’s what we’re destined to be?”

She let the question fall from her lips before she could stop herself. “What do you think we’re destined to be?”

The connection cut out before she could get an answer.

#my writing #ficrec #reylo #reylo fic #star wars #sw #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #rey #ben solo #kylo ren

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe {20}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Fluff

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️  ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 20: Life is a Beach

-Chris-

  He sat in his baseball hat, and sunglasses and watched Ella as she ran through the playground with all the energy of the roadrunner in the cartoons from his childhood. He couldn’t help but smile. She was amazing. He’d never marveled at a child more than this tiny human—his tiny human. It was still surreal to think that. It had been two and a half, three weeks since the diner with Vixen and in those three weeks, they’d taken small steps. Neither of them had ever done this, and he sure as hell didn’t know what to do or how they were supposed to act. So, the two of you made your own rules. He’d had dinner with them twice a week usually Mondays and Thursdays, Nexus invited him over any time she watched Ella for you, and he was grateful for it. She’d assured him that she didn’t know until the day she met him.

   That knowledge made it easier to be around her, and it made it easier to see how cool she was. She even tried to put in a good word or two for you hoping it would ease his hidden anger with you. He didn’t know if it was successful because sometimes he would look at Ella as she did something and he’d think he missed it because he wasn’t around, and he wasn’t around because you’d lied to him. Those moments hurt and he always had to go off by himself to put it back into perspective. He realized it was a constant struggle for him.

   Every interaction with Ella left him in awe. She was so smart and so full of life he loved every minute. The first few dinners she looked at him occasionally, and every time he caught her looking she’d look away. If you said something and involved him she’d talk, but otherwise, she kept close to you. He understood, he was relatively a stranger. It hurt but again he put it into perspective. He didn’t speak to you unless he had to and if he did it was about Ella. You were free with the information, you’d told him about her first words, first steps, fears, joys, and any other tidbits he asked. He could tell though that you seemed standoffish and he wondered if it was because you were cautious about him being in Ella’s life, or you were apprehensive letting your guard down given what you’d done. He didn’t press the issue, but he watched you.

He didn’t want to watch you. He didn’t want to notice the way your eyes sparkled when you played with Ella. He didn’t want to notice the ample swell of your breasts; he didn’t want to notice that they were bigger than they were three years. He didn’t want to notice how enticing your thighs looked, or how soft your lips looked, and he definitely didn’t want to notice the perfectness of your ass.

   Still, he took notice of it all. His favorite thing to take note of was how much Ella lite up when she was around you and vice versa. He noticed how completely enamored you were with her and every single time he saw that his heart skipped a beat. At times that made him even angrier.

   “I have a day of freedom tomorrow; Ella loves the beach. I was going to check one out,” you began. He tore his eyes from Ella and looked to you. “You should, California beaches are nice, well some of them.” You nodded and smiled as you continued to watch Ella, then you looked to him. “Any suggestions? I’m still pretty new to LA.” He looked back out to the playground and watched Ella squeal as she went down a slide with her hands up. She was fearless. He smiled because he knew he was the same as a kid.

   “Maybe try Santa Monica Beach, there’s a nice one in Laguna and Malibu.”

   “Are those paparazzi free?”

   “I’m sorry about the paps. If I--,” he began before you interrupted. “I get it, it’s the life you live. I was shocked to not see our faces in the magazines.”

   He scoffed; he’d had to get his PR team on that one quick. He threatened everyone and their grandmother that if any of those pictures were published, he’d slap them with the biggest lawsuit on endangering the welfare of a child. There were some people the paps knew not to mess with, and his particular PR team was filled with some of those people. Of course, he worried that now that he went through so much trouble that they’d take notice and dig. “I do have some pull still,” he explained.

   He could feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t look at you. “Thank you. I don’t know what life would be if it were all public knowledge. My parents would kill me,” you said. He snorted because he knew his mother would definitely kill him too but not before she gave him the worst tongue lashing and possible ass kicking. He took a deep breath because he knew one way or another he had to tell her. He’d have to tell her, his father and his siblings. That was another headache.

  Ella ran up to you then crashed herself into your waiting arms. “Hello, my sweet. Having fun?” She nodded enthusiastically before she showed you her handful of sand. “Wook.” You lite up and smiled widely at her while pretending this was the first time you’d seen sand. “You like sand huh.” She nodded again. He smiled. He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this.

   “Pfeiffer Beach.” You looked at him quizzically. “What?” He smiled again and sighed. “The beach recommendation, it has to be Pfeiffer.”

   “Why?” He looked down then back to the playground. “It’s out the way, off the beaten track, no paps, and she’ll love the sand.”

   “Okay.” Ella, who still had a small handful of sand hurled it at him. You gasped and grabbed her hands. “Oh my god, no Kristella.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s all right. No harm no foul. You really like sand huh.” He couldn’t stop laughing which made Ella laugh as she nodded. “No, she has to know it’s not okay to throw things at people.” He looked to you, the smile dropped. “People? But I’m not people right?” Your expression changed as you realized what you’d said.

   “That’s not what I meant--,” you began.

  “No, I wouldn’t be people if you’d--.” Seeing the train wreck ahead he stopped himself. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

   “Each mama?” You gave Ella a small smile and nodded. “Oooh each, each, each!” He looked at her getting lost in her excitement; seeing it made some of the anger he felt fade. “Cwis come oo, mama?” Her big beautiful eyes peered up at you waiting for an answer.

   “Uh, well you have to ask him babygirl.” Ella then dropped her face into your lap before giggling. You smiled then rolled your eyes. “She always acts shy.” He smiled and watched. Ella peeked at him then hid her face again before you lifted her into your arms. “Kristella Raelle,” you said in a sing-song voice.

   Ella looked to him and he damn near melted. “Cwis come each.” He couldn’t help but smile like a fool.

   “Are we missing a word?” She smiled. “Pwease.” He could have died a happy man then. “I’d love to. Thank you.” She giggled, slid out your arms and ran away on her small legs. You sighed beside him, and he did the same. “Kristella?” Groaning, an embarrassed look came across your face.

   “Yeah, it was the only thing that made sense. I couldn’t decide on a name the whole nine months. My mom said when you see her, it’ll come to you. So, I waited and when the doctors put her on my chest, and she looked at me--,” you paused as if trying to find the right words, but he saw the gleam of tears cloud your eyes. You avoided his eyes, turning your head to the right you cleared your throat. “It just fit.”

   “That could mean damn near anything.”

   He took a deep breath and continued to watch his daughter until he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. When he looked at it, he was shocked to realize they’d sat there for hours. The message from his agent was what brought reality back. “I have to go.”

   You nodded. “Okay. Thanks for coming.” He looked at you, and you were once again collected and distant. He didn’t like that it bothered him.

   “Should I come by your place tomorrow morning?” You nodded, standing. “Tell me a time; we’ll be ready.” Ella ran up to you and again crashed into your legs. He had a stray thought that he too wanted to crash into your legs.

   Baffled at how he could even think that let alone want it especially given everything he shook his head. “I think six is good, it takes a few hours to get there, and you want to have some good time there.” You lifted Ella into your arms, and the press of her against your body made your breasts jut out. Naturally, that is where his eyes went. Instantly he caught himself and looked away and took up the small backpack you’d rested on the bench between your bodies. “I’ll carry this.” Smiling your thanks, you took up your bag and walked beside him.

   “Any special requests?” He looked at you, trying to decipher what you meant. He had a few requests in mind. “Like?” Jostling Ella higher on your hip, she shoved her hand into your top. You didn’t seem to notice; this must be every day for you he thought.

 “Food. I usually make some things for a day at the beach. Ella loves to picnic there and don’t let her fool you; she eats a lot.” He smiled wider and nodded. “Uh, anything you make it’ll be fine.” You nodded, and the two of you approached your car.

   When you bent over to put Ella in her car seat, his eyes instinctively dropped to your backside. He knew this wasn’t the first time he’d looked at it, but it felt like the first time. He vaguely remembered from years ago how you felt but it was clear you were different. His hands itched to touch; he felt like an old perv, and it was something that was new. He hadn’t felt this unable to control his thoughts or wants since those nights with you.

   Clearing his throat he stepped back and looked around making sure the paps had not found him. He wanted to protect this for as long as possible. After thanking him and confirming the details for the next day he was off to stress about everything that could happen the next day.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  -Vixen-

   “One piece or bikini?”

   Nexus rolled her eyes as she dropped her head on the bed. “God Vix, you’re killing me. It’s literally the ass crack of dawn, fuck dawn hasn’t even shown her ass yet. I am half asleep. We’ve been doing this for an hour. It’s a simple bathing suit. It doesn’t matter.” Her whining was a lot more pronounced now. You felt bad, a little but this was serious.

   “I’m sorry, but I can’t just wear any old thing.” You picked up one of the twenty bathing suits tossed across your bed and put it to your robed body for the fiftieth time. “Fuck this is stressful.” You dropped onto the bed and groaned. “Why is this stressful? Vix, it’s the beach with your one-and-a-half-year-old child that you share with your ex-husband, it’s not like you’re going to have sex on the beach with your kid between you.”

   You rolled your eyes and stared into the ceiling. She was right; it wasn’t a big deal. It was a beach with your kid; nothing would happen. You didn’t know why you were fussing so much.

   “Relax, just take it down a notch. It’s just a day, just the beach.” You took a deep breath and released it hoping it worked to calm your nerves. “Have you slept?” You jumped up and walked out the door. “Not yet, I had to make food.” You could hear Nexus groan as you walked to the kitchen to pack the dishes you’d made.

   “God, Vixen.”

   Chewing your bottom lip, you finished packing the food into the picnic bag and ignored Nexus and your nerves. After yesterday at the park you could tell that things could either go left or right with no indication and you were anxious.  With the way he threw the fact that you’d hidden Ella from him it was safe to say he was still angry about it and you knew it would come up again. Part of you understood while you didn’t do what you did to spite him or to be a vindictive bitch your intentions didn’t matter; it was the action that did. You understood his anger. If you were honest with yourself you deserved it. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize you were motionless, standing in front of the counter just staring out.

   “What is it now?” Sighing you shook your head and hopefully the feelings away.

  “Nothing, you’re right—as always. I’m bugging out, and I need to chill. I will.” You took a few deep breaths and closed the bag you’d packed.

“Better?” You nodded to Nexus and put on a satisfied smile. Nexus studied you, but instead of calling you on your bull she shook her head. “The two-piece, your body after Ella is incredible, so if you got it flaunt it.” You smirked and nodded.

  Once in your room again Nex took up a skimpy two-piece, you eyed her like she was crazy.

“What?” Snorting you took it and held it up to inspect it. It left nearly nothing to the imagination.

   “You’re kidding.” Nex smiled and shook her head. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, and I can tell he wants to see it again,” Next boasted. The smile you wore fell, and the butterflies in your stomach took flight.

  “What?” Nex laughed and sat back on your bed snuggling into your sheets. “Vix, it’s obvious. I saw it all over his face when he came over for dinner.” You went over your memories from that night and tried to see if she was right. In the midst of it, you stopped yourself.

  “No, Nex, no. That’s not true, and that’s that on that.” She looked even more amused. “You still like him,” she accused.

   You turned your back to her and went through your drawer to look for a bathing suit that didn’t show off too much but was still cute. “I do not. I never liked him.” Nexus laughed even louder; then you felt a bottle hit your back.

  “Ouch!” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a liar. You do not have sex with just anyone much less marry them. You liked, liked him. Sometimes I thought you lo--.” Clearing your throat loudly you cut her off before she uttered the ridiculous word. As you walked into the bathroom you heard Nexus scoff. You changed into the bathing suit and then spent the next five minutes or so looking over your body at every angle. You were nervous, and you knew it was stupid.

   Once you emerged from the bathroom, Nexus was holding a bright-eyed Ella who had a waffle in one hand and her hair in the other. “Good morning princess.” She smiled then dropped her head onto Nex’s shoulder. You dropped kisses all across her face then pulled on a pair of denim shorts and the crop top you’d picked from the night before. When you looked at the clock on your nightstand you saw you had just a little over thirty minutes before Chris was supposed to arrive. That was when you became frazzled, you still had yet to get Ella together or the toys and supplies you needed for a beach trip. You’d intended to do it the night before, but when you came home you stressed the entire night. Now you were feeling the stress.

   By the time the doorbell rang, Ella was running around the house in her bathing suit, and you were frantically trying to pack the last minute things you’d need. Nex was the one to open the door and let him in. When you came out you had three bags. Chris immediately came forward to take them. “Good morning.” He smiled as he said it and you caught the scent of his cologne, and your belly did flips.

   “That is my belly, right?”

   “Sure, you packed enough?” You snapped out of it and shrugged. “Never know with a kid. I like to be prepared for anything, and with Ella, anything is possible.” He smiled, and god did he look beautiful. Ella’s loud babbling increased to an almost deafening decibel.

  “She is so gonna crash once she gets in the car,” Nex joked. You nodded your agreement, and that was when she ran out with her shorts off her body and on her head shouting before she crashed into your legs.

   “Ella why’d you take off your shorts?” She pouted and held one hand in the air and put the other on her hip. “Piwate!” Pinching your lips together you nodded. “Really?” She nodded. “Pink piwate!” It was then Chris laughed out loud to which Ella’s pout became more pronounced before she glared at him.

  “No waugh, I pwetty piwate!” Chris quickly straightened his face. “The prettiest pirate I ever did see.” Ella broke character and smiled widely before she hid behind your legs. “All right you, let’s put these shorts back where they belong.” You bent down and dressed her appropriately. “I’ll bring these to the car,” Chris informed before he walked back out the door hands completely filled. Nexus’ expression caught your eye. It was an expression that said she approved.

   “All right, have fun,” Nex said. You stood holding Ella.

  “What’re you going to do all day?” She shrugged. “Get some sleep, maybe shop a little and just lounge. Nothing much.” You studied her not fully believing her. “Go, although I know he’ll wait forever for you don’t make him.”

  Rolling your eyes, you took the last bag and your purse and the stroller and walked out the door. “Say bye-bye auntie Nex.” Ella waved and leaned out toward Nex with her lips puckered then let out an exaggerated loud kiss.

  “Ayye!” Nex did the same with a broad smile on her face. You walked down the path toward Chris’ car. He met you halfway and took your bags, and the stroller then loaded them in his trunk.

   Before you got to the door, you stopped. “Ah, the car seat.” Before you turned back to your car Chris’ voice stopped you. “Actually, I have that covered.” He opened the backdoor, and you saw a car seat that was identical to yours ready and waiting. Staring at it and then to him you were speechless. “Is it the wrong one? I was sure it was the same one you had.” Snapping out of it you nodded.

  “Yes, no it’s the same.” Chris smiled and doing your best to suppress the increasing butterflies you buckled Ella into the seat taking full notice that it was correctly installed. Once you closed the door you saw him holding open the passenger door for you, and again the butterflies increased. Nex was standing at the door still watching, and you could see the smile on her face as well as a look that was a mixture of “told you” and “he’s a keeper.” Thanking him you got in and once he came around you were off.

   The drive was a quiet one in the beginning. It took ten minutes flat for Ella to fall asleep which left the two of you alone in an enclosed space for the next two hours. For the most part, it was a quiet ride, he kept his eyes on the road, and you tried to keep yours off of him. You failed miserably. The chino shorts he wore that fell just at his knees before now sat a few inches above it giving you a glimpse of some thigh. Though he was a thin guy his thighs didn’t look it, they looked defined, muscular and completely inviting. You sat there staring at them for far longer than was appropriate. Every time you tried to think of something else, another thing caught your eye. For instance, his hands gripping the steering wheel, that made you take notice of how big his hands were and made you think back to how his hand cupped your breast and ass with ease.

   When you scolded yourself for your thoughts and forced it back onto something neutral, something else caught your eye. Soon his arms were the subject of your gawking. You remembered everything about them, but he’d buffed up even more, and it was wreaking havoc on your desires. You felt like a horny teenager, and you hated it. Once you realized it was horniness you felt, it hit you that you hadn’t had sex with anyone since him. That realization was all it took for you to freak out.

   “Are you okay?” you snapped your head to him, he looked concerned. Not able to get any words out you nodded then looked back out your window. “We should be there in another forty minutes or so.” Again you nodded, and silence filled the car. “Did I do something?” shocked you looked to him. “No. God no. why would you think that?”

   “You’ve barely said five sentences this entire drive.”

   “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just lost in my thoughts, I guess.” You could feel his eyes on you for a few seconds before he looked back to road then again to you. “I get that, more than you know,” he admitted releasing an exasperated breath. You felt the car pull to the side of the road, and you looked around, expecting that you’d arrived. Chris turned to you giving you his full attention.

   “Let’s make a deal. You don’t go getting lost in your thoughts, and I won’t go getting lost in mine. No doubt we both are all over the place the last few weeks, but I remember we were able to have a good time together. I’m hoping that’s still the same. So, let’s agree to that and just be—present.” His eyes went to Ella in the backseat, and a soft smile teased his lips. “I can make that deal if you can,” he finished before his eyes landed back on you.

   You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Deal.” He smiled slowly and nodded. “Deal,” he repeated. The both of you smiled, and he resumed the trip giving you the time to calm those butterflies he awoke with just a smile.

  When you arrived, Ella was wide awake and ready for fun. Chris carried the majority of the bags while you carried Ella and your purse. You could smell the sea salt, and you knew Ella could too because her big blue eyes scanned everywhere in search of what she knew she was there for. When the three of you rounded a cluster of rocks you stopped in your tracks at the beauty before you. Ella must have been surprised too because she didn’t say anything, she just looked wide-eyed. “Oh yie god,” Ella repeated what you said, and Chris laughed. You looked to him and just looked shocked. “Wow, this is amazing.”

 “Welcome to Pfeiffer Beach,” he said, spreading his arms out around him. You looked at Ella, and she looked at you. “Each?” You nodded. “Beach.” She squealed loudly and began kicking her legs signaling she wanted to be put down. Quickly you put her on the concrete, and she took off down the rest of the path. All she kept screaming was beach. Once the road ended Ella stopped and looked back to you and Chris. “Sand?” Chris nodded. Ella paused and bent down to take up a handful. “Poepul.” You stood next to her and looked at the purple sand in her tiny hand. “This is what makes this beach pretty cool. I thought she’d like it.”

   “Poepul! I wike it. I wike it!” Without wasting any more time she ran off across the sand prompting a hearty laugh from Chris. Sensing her intention to run off into the water you ran after her and scooped her up before she got too far.

   “Hold on you little mermaid, let’s set up first.” Kicking her little legs the entire way you and Chris found a nice spot and set up the blanket and other items. After a few minutes Ella had enough stalling.

  “Wato!” Chris smiled. “I think she wants that water now.” Taking her cue from him she nodded.

  “Wato now!” Planting the most defiant look on her face, you just stared at her until the look faded and was replaced with a smile. “Pwease mama.” Unable to be too stern, you smiled and shook your head. “Fine.” She squealed and clapped her hands.

   You took off your hat and began undressing. Once you’d finished, you looked across to Chris who was standing there scanning your body, but it was a quick once over. You didn’t think anything of it.  Taking Ella’s hand, you walked toward the water then ran once she picked up speed. Once at the shore you led Ella out until the water reached her waist. Without warning, she jumped to you shouting “wee.” Laughing the two of you played in the water splashing each other and everywhere around you. Her squeals and laughs were music to your ears. After a few minutes, you looked back to where you’d left Chris. He was watching, but you couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

   “Aren’t you coming?” Right on cue Ella spun her head to him. “Come in wato Cwis!” You smiled.

  “See, the mermaid princess has spoken!” He smiled and shrugged then lifted his shirt.

 “Holy fucking shit, mother of Mary and holy sweet baby in a manger!”

   Every action he made was in slow motion from then on. Your eyes scanned his perfect chest down to each of his six ab muscles. Once you got to his waist, your jaw dropped seeing those indentations that drove women to forget how to speak English. He ran to the water, and you heard the theme song to Baywatch playing in your head.

   Once he ran into the water even the drops moved in slow motion as they splashed across his chest and slowly ran down his skin. Before you knew it he was standing in front of you, and your eyes were glued below his neck. Suddenly water splashed in your face, sputtering you wiped it away to see Ella laughing.

   “Even my kid knows I’m thirsty.”

   Trying to ignore the overwhelming desire you felt you splashed around with her, Chris joined in. Soon he was the one splashing the two of you with his massive arms. Ella loved every second of it when a tsunami sized splash landed on her; she screamed and laughed. When a wave came in she cried for a different reason and held on tightly to you. You and Chris tried to reassure her it was okay, but she would not be soothed unless you moved back to the shore. So every time the waves stopped you inched out further but when it came in she made you run back to shore. It was exhausting.

   When you made it back to the blanket for a break, she dropped in the sand and began building a castle. It was then you decided you deserved food. When you opened the containers, Chris let out a loud “mmm.” “That smells too good.” Ella rushed over and fell on your lap. “Hungry baby?” She nodded.

   You placed the container to the side and rinsed off her hands with a bottle of water then a sani wipe. “So, I may have gone overboard with the food. Once I start cooking it’s next to impossible for me to keep it simple or stop.” Chris smiled and watched as you opened the containers one by one. “This is pasta salad with some crab and lobster. Please tell me you’re not allergic to shellfish.”

   “Nope, I love seafood.” You smiled and nodded. “All right good. These are buffalo, and BBQ chicken wraps with a dollop of pesto and on the bbq ones.” You handed Ella one of the bbq wraps, she sat and moaned her pleasure on the first bite. “This is mac and cheese, but not that box stuff this is authentic mac and cheese—black mac and cheese.” Chris snorted.

   “Then some fruit kabobs and a strawberry vinaigrette salad kabob. Ella loves strawberries.”

   Chris sat there looking at all the food with an impressed expression. “Wow. This all looks amazing. I don’t know why you think you went overboard; I like to eat.” You couldn’t stifle the laugh that escaped you, so you motioned for him to dig in. The three of you sat there enjoying the sun, breeze, and food and for a while, it felt perfect.

“So, I see you accomplished your dream, your restaurant.” You smiled and nodded. “I did.” He took another bite of food then looked back to you. “Congratulations, I knew you’d make it happen. I could sense your determination. I saw something in you that said you’d make it happen.” You looked away from him to Ella, who played with her toys with one hand and ate with the other.

  “Yeah, part of the dream. It was hard, don’t get it twisted. It was crazy hard, especially when Ella came around, but with the grace of God and my family I was lucky.”

   “Nah, luck has nothing to do with it. You made it happen Vixen.” Glancing at him, you saw the stern look on his face. Nodding, you decided to take the implied compliment. He looked away, and a comfortable silence fell between you. “What do you mean by part of the dream?”

   “Well, the dream was to start a chain of restaurants. I have one in San Fran and soon one here in LA, so I guess the dream will then be accomplished,” you explained with a smile realizing your reality and all you’d accomplished.

  “You’re opening a restaurant here?” You nodded. “Really?”

   “Yeah, I came across an opportunity, and I got lucky, and that’s why I’m here. We’re building it up from the start.” He looked shocked.

   “Wow, Vixen that is incredible. Wow! I’m happy for you.” Smiling, you tried to ignore the feelings bubbling at the surface. “Congratulations.”

   “Thank you.” He looked like he meant what he said, and it warmed your heart.

   “Mama, castle pwease.” Seeing that you weren’t finished Chris wiped his hands. “Can I?” You nodded, and he slid to Ella.

   “I know I’m not mama, but can I make a castle with you?” Ella looked to his face, but she looked as if she were looking right through him. “My eye.” She looked to you at the same time Chris did. He looked confused, but you knew what she meant.

  “Yes baby, you have the same eyes.” She looked away, but Chris didn’t. “Okay, castle Cwis.” His eyes didn’t leave yours; the moment was a heavy one. Sensing you were close to losing it, you slipped on your sunglasses and watched them build castles. She freely chattered away, and Chris responded to what he understood, it was the cutest thing.

   When they were finished you took pictures of their masterpiece, then Ella began posing, which had Chris laughing up a storm before he joined in for the pictures at Ella’s wishes. So, it suddenly turned into an impromptu photoshoot. Chris took your phone and made you get into the pictures with Ella. After every snap he would shout out “new pose” and Ella ate it up.

   After a few minutes, an elderly couple approached. “Why don’t you get in there too? We’ll get a good picture of the family.” Chris looked at you, and you smiled and nodded. When he slipped in he stood behind you and Ella. Without needing to be told Ella shouted out. “Cheeee.” Everyone laughed as the picture was taken. You put Ella down and walked to the couple to thank them. “No thank you necessary. You make a beautiful family, and it warms my heart to see so much love between a young couple.”

   A gentle breeze could have toppled you over. Neither you nor Chris spoke up to correct her though. Your overactive mind wanted to dissect that alone, but you pushed it aside. “Do you want to know the secret to how we’ve stayed married so long?” The older man looked between you and Chris but didn’t wait for an answer. “I see her the same way I did the first time I ever laid eyes on her and I never forget how I felt.” You couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was. “If you do that, everything else falls into place.” As quickly as they appeared they walked off leaving the two of you stunned.

   When you turned around and returned to the blanket Chris and Ella were stomping on the castle completely destroying it. Chris was pretending to be Godzilla and roared with each slow motioned stomp and Ella imitated him. You sat and just watched as your heart swelled utterly falling in love with the sight of them together. Chris then pretending to go after her and chased her around the beach to her absolute delight.

   When she tried to run not the water Chris was there to block her. When a wave crashed into Chris unexpectedly he stumbled and fell to the sand. Ella let loose an uproar of laughter then jumped right onto his belly. While he groaned an incoming wave came in and before it crashed on them he lifted her into the air with one of his arms. She began screaming but stopped once she realized she was okay. That turned into him pretending she was an airplane which she loved. Your heart melted; this was the first time she’d allowed him to touch her. It was her way of showing she’d opened up to someone new. It was also a sight that made a tear roll down your cheek.

   By the time you made it back home, it was night, and again Ella was knocked out. Chris took the bags inside while you packed up the toys she had strewn around the backseat. When he came back you got out on the opposite side and walked around to him. Taking notice that your hands were full, he looked to Ella. “Uh—you got her or need some help?”

   You motioned to her, “Yeah, go ahead; it’s okay.” He looked at you as if he were cautious.  “Are you sure?” Nodding you walked onto the lawn. Chris bent inside the car and slowly wrapped his arms around her lifting her. When he turned you knew you weren’t prepared for the sight.

   You walked to the house with Chris following closely behind you. “Follow me.” You walked up the stairs and to her room with pink and purple letters spelling out her name. “Right on the bed.” Chris walked in and across to her bed where he gently laid her down. He sat there, momentarily, and stared. From where you stood you could hear the purring you loved. Chris looked at you and smiled.

   “She does purr.” You smiled and nodded. For the next few minutes, no words were needed. The two of you just sat there staring in awe at the tiny human you’d created together. When he crossed the room back to you, you pressed your back onto the wall. He didn’t stop until he was a few inches from you.

   “She’s perfect Vixen.” Again, you nodded. “She is,” you whispered back. His eyes searched yours. You were full of so many thoughts and emotions. You were afraid to speak, afraid to move and could barely breathe. You watched his tongue snake out and slowly trail across his bottom lip. Instinctively you did the same, that was when his eyes dropped to your mouth.

   “Shit, do I want him to kiss me? Would I move if he did?”

   You bit your bottom lip, and your body moved on its own leaning your lower half off the wall while your back remained against it. “You’re a good mom.” Your smile was full, and your heart fluttered. Chris took another step to you, and your heart rate increased. His hand went out and touched your hip, and every nerve in your body fired off creating an electric feeling that sparked through you.

  As if getting a jumpstart, your memory flashed back to three years ago when he did the same thing. Back then what came next was him kissing you, pulling you to his body so you could feel every line, and slope of his hard body. Then his hand would snake around you to cup your backside, and from there you knew you’d end up in bed.  

   “Would it end the same way? Would he be the same?”

   Anxiety flared and with it fear and all the embarrassment and hurt you felt three years ago. You stepped back, clearing your throat. “Em, it’s really late.” Where his fingers were digging into the meat of your hip, now they relaxed as if waiting for the rest of that sentence, a sentence you didn’t finish.

   “Yeah,” Chris agreed before he cleared his throat as well. He took a few steps back and looked back to Ella in her bed. “It is.” He looked down and sighed. “I’ll walk you out.” You walked out of the room and down the stairs. You got to the front door a few seconds before he did. It was enough time to slow your racing heart and put on a calm exterior.

   “Thank you for letting me come along today.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you looked down to your feet. “No, thank you for finding such an amazing beach. She had a really, really good time.”

   “I did too but was it just she and I who had a good time?” You looked up and finally met his eyes. You’d never seen this look before; it looked like the look of an unsure man. “No, it was a lot of fun.” Chris nodded then looked at his own feet. “Okay, so I’m going to head out.”

   “Yeah, drive safe.” He nodded, turned, and walked back to his car. You stood there and watched him debating in your head if you’d done the right thing.

   “You knew where this would have led Vix. You’ve been done that road already. You would have gotten your feelings hurt again, and he would have had the last laugh. You did the right thing. You did what you should have done three years ago.”

   Though part of you said that, when you saw him put his head on his steering wheel before he pulled off, you had to question that part. Had you done the right thing?

~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@sarahboseman  @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr  @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06  @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219  @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites@hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh@lunaerly @theoutereffect@twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism@maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere@laketaj24  @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne@loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis  @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711@geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@darkandlovely94   @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829@chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http@madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn@dolphinpink310 @yourwonderbelle  @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000   @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg  @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku   @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97  @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea  @ursapharoh05  @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans   @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie  @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@sweettea-and-honeybutter@thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld@cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger@amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu @cherrystainedlipsbaby @behindthesehazeleyes27 @areubeingserved  @kelbabyblue @academic-glowup  @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @squeackygee @noramushroom @titty-teetee @ab-baybay @kreolemami

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

[presidentlauraroslin]

Drabble prompts: 49 for Chrisjen/Amos, 29 for Chrisjen/Cotyar, or 6 for Madam Satan/Zelda Spellmann

I suck at making choices, so I just did all of them. 

49. “Wellthis is awkward…” – Chrisjen/Amos 

“Ohfuck! Must be the wrong deck.” Amos turned around and it took him a second, orten, to connect the dots between seeing Avasarala, the way her eyebrows rosewhen she looked at him and the fact that he had just stepped out of the shower.With their limited crew, he had never seen the need to lock the door, but ithad possibly slipped his mind that their unlikely refugees were occupying the quartersright above him. He guessed for a mostly earthbound politician, a mistakebetween decks was easily made.

“Well,this is awkward,” he said dryly, taking his time to move his towel to a morestrategic place, mostly because he assumed Naomi would have some choice wordsfor him if she saw him with his dick out near Avasarala, or any guests on theship. Even if there was something about the politician, especially in thatflight suit. Or maybe it had just been too long since they had had a propershore leave.

Butwhere most guests probably would have made a quick exit, Avasarala remained onthe threshold of his quarters, studying him for a moment. “Unless it isn’t.Wanna come in?” 

Avasaralatilted her head. If she were shocked by his proposition, she hid it well. Butshe hadn’t balked when he had hinted at his past. Perhaps there was very littlethat would phase her. Her eyes travelled over his body, her expression completelyguarded. “Tempting as that is, I have much biggerthings to worry about.”

Hechuckled at that. It was a cheap dig, not necessarily what he had been expectingfrom her, but it did dissolve whatever tension had been in the recycled air. Thoughthat didn’t stop him from briefly looking down, enjoying the way the white fabricstretched over her tits. It had definitely been too long since shore leave. “Maybeafter we blow up this clusterfuck on Io.”

Sherolled her eyes at him and took a step back, the barest hint of a smile playingon her lips. “With all due respect, Amos, fuck off.”

29. “Ithought you were dead” – Chrisjen/Cotyar 

Thefirst thing he notices when he wakes up, is how goddamn nauseous he is. Thesecond thing is that he is actually waking up. The last thing he remembers is sabotagingthe Agatha King’s engine, rigging it to blow up as his vac suit practicallyscreamed at him that he was running out of oxygen. He remembers his soliloquy tohimself, to Charanpal. It has been easer than saying goodbye to her. Charanpalis the ghost in the back of his head, the memory of his failure, easier toignore. Chrisjen is the constant headache, the heaviness in his heart, theguilt on his shoulders. The warmth in his chest when she smiles at him.

“Ithought you were dead.” The words are soft, a slight tremble in them, but thereis no mistaking that voice. Of course. Wherever he is, whatever medicalfacility, whatever ship, because he sure as hell isn’t on a planet, she would behere. Cracking open an eye, he can vaguely make out her shape, an unfamiliarwhite suit on her body. His vision is agonizingly slowly sharpening until he canmake out the dark circles under her eyes, her clenched fists and the hint of reliefin her expression.

“So didI.” It had almost seemed appropriate, dying to stop the protomolecule, to helpChrisjen’s cause. His last move, still for her. Her hand settles on his chestand it feels warm and familiar through his shirt. He can’t help but notice thatit’s trembling ever so slightly. He shouldn’t care that she cares so much, buthe knows how much she has lost already and it’s nice to know that him coming backfrom the dead means something to her.

“If youever do that again, I will take extreme pleasure in watching Bobbie beat the fuckingshit out of you.” He tries to chuckle, but it hurts and it comes out more as acough. On a halfway decent day, he would have retorted, but he settles for asmile. Chrisjen shakes her head at him and leans in, pressing a kiss to hisforehead. Her lips are soft and gentle and just for that, he’s grateful he didn’tdie.

6. “Isthere a reason you’re naked in my bed?” – Madam Satan/Zelda Spellman

Zeldastopped on the threshold of their room, no her room. Hilda had her own now,which, considering the display that greeted her, was probably for the best. Fora moment she could only stare and then she remembered that the house was verymuch not empty and if anyone were to walk past, she would have to answer a lotof questions she had no desire of ever being asked. Stepping inside her room,she slammed the door behind her.

“Isthere a reason you’re naked in my bed?” she asked, hating that her voicebetrayed just how much she was affected by the sight before her. Mary Wardwell justgrinned at her, the kind that sent cold shivers down Zelda’s spine, her fingersmoving unwaveringly between her legs.

“I’mnot.” Zelda managed to look away from Mary long enough to see a psychopompsettling on the windowsill. She has half a mind to yell at the witch for beingso irresponsible, but Mary whimpered, pinching her nipple and suddenly her mouthwas dry and she felt her composure slipping.

“You’reusing astral projection to masturbate in my bed?” Straightening her skirt, shesat down at the edge of her bed, close enough to touch, to taste, to smell, ifthat were possible. Mary stretched out a leg, allowing Zelda a better view ofher fingers circling her clit, teasing her entrance.

“It isthe most effective way to teach you ‘look, don’t touch’, isn’t it?” Her voicehad taken on that teacher quality that Zelda always pretended to hate, but Maryhad figured out during the first time turned her on. She had a point. She waskeeping her hands in her lap, despite her rising need to kiss those red lips,feel Mary’s breast, bury her face between her thighs. Apparently, the knowledgethat she couldn’t touch, was helping.

“If you’rewilling to risk death, just to be a tease, then I suppose it is,” she managedthrough clenched teeth, her legs pressed together to try and relieve some ofthe ache building up. Mary always did have a cruel streak, but this one wasgetting to her and clearly, it was showing on her face, because the damnedwitch chuckled and moaned, arching up into her own touch. If she weren’t one ofthe best lovers she had taken in centuries, Zelda would have cursed her thenand there. Instead she watched, enraged, enraptured.

“Oh, Imust be off,” Mary said, glancing at the psychopomps that had gathered and witha wink, she was gone. Groaning, Zelda let herself fall back on her bed. That womanwas almost more trouble than she was worth. Almost.

#margotgrissom #the expanse #chrisjen avasarala #cotyar ghazi #amos burton #chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman #madam satan #fanfic

[raspberrytummytickles]

My One True Omega

Wincest Writing Challenge: November 2017 @wincestytypeoflove vs @wincensfw Prompt: Strength (Tarot Cards) Rating: Teen | Wordcount: 3k+ | Round 14 Tags: Unrelated Wincest, Pinning Sam Winchester, Unrequited Love, A/B/O Dynamics, Moment of Destiel, Arranged Marriage, Love at First Sight, @wincestwritingchallenge Summary: Sam’s loved Dean ever since he first saw him. He just want’s his love reciprocated.

Dean woke with a groan, long warm arms around his waist and a needy nose poking his shoulder. He spared a glance at the pair of eyes gazing at him in adoration and sighed, shaking off the cuddly omega.

“Morning, Dean,” Sam said brightly, warm hands rubbing the crooks of Dean’s back. Dean grunted in greeting and pushed the omega more firmly away, getting up. He padded to the kitchen in only his boxers, Sam following behind him talking about something unimportant to Dean.

He fixed his morning coffee, per usual, as Sam puttered around the cooking space and started on breakfast. Dean rubbed his temples, a headache forming at the constant chatter. He remembered a point in time when he thought it was kinda cute but now? Dean could barely stand it.

“Here ya go!” Sam said cheerily, placing down a plate of eggs, toast, cheese, bacon, salami and a small bowl of fruit.

“Sam,” Dean growled. “I don’t eat fruit so stop giving it to me.”

“You need it so shut up and eat,” Sam snorted, popping a grape in his mouth. They had this argument every morning and while tiring, Sam secretly loved it. He could pretend that Dean actually loved him and that this was a sleepy lover’s quarrel. Of course, that wasn’t what it was in all honesty.

Dean didn’t love Sam, it was clear as day that the alpha wouldn’t have chosen Sam for a mate if he thought he had a better choice. Sam, however, was deeply in love with Dean, with his green eyes and adorable freckles. He felt safe around the alpha and would do anything for him. They hadn’t officially mated, Dean putting off actually knotting him but Sam relished in whatever closeness he could get with Dean.

And when he saw Dean had finished his food, including the fruit cup, he called it a win.

—- —- —-

Dean watched the older omega a few seats away with a sad sigh. Castiel Novak was the most gorgeous omega Dean had ever laid eyes on. His scent drove Dean crazy along with his cute little head tilt when he was confused and messy hair plus the brightest pair of blue eyes Dean had ever seen. He wanted Cas so bad but he was stuck with Sam. Dean glanced at the younger omega next to him and wrinkled his nose. Sam didn’t smell bad, he just wasn’t what Dean wanted or needed.

Sam easily hid the hurt he felt whenever Dean’s eyes strayed. He knew he wasn’t who Dean wanted but the alpha could try to at least be less obvious. The thing is, Dean’s father arranged a marriage between them, because the Campbell heir needed a mate. Both were reasonably upset at first, though the omega sometimes thinks Dean is still upset, but then Sam had fallen head over heels for Dean. The Alpha, however, never made an effort like Sam did. They’d been together for four years and Sam was honestly getting a little tired of the rejection and the hate.

Seeing his friends with their perfect mates and swollen with pups was hard when he was downright miserable trying to keep his alpha happy. The thoughts made Sam want to cry but he never dared in front of Dean in fear the alpha would tease him or berate him.

Sam pushed the depression away, focusing back on the paper he was supposedly reading and grimaced.

“This new Alpha leader is shitty at doing his job.”

Dean looked at him with barely concealed annoyance. Omega’s were supposed to be seen, not heard.

“He’s trying to make arranged marriages a law instead of just pack traditions,” Sam elaborated.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, “That’s just the way things are. Best to make it official before controversy breaks out.”

“I’d rather marry for love,” Sam said lightly, even though that’s what he did.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said, turning back to stare at Cas.

Sam just pushed the tears back because he was fine. He always was.

— —- —–

While Sam and Dean weren’t close, sex between them was amazing. Dean was always rough with Sam, pounding into his hole until the omega was weeping both from his eyes and from his cock. Sam wasn’t one who normally enjoyed rough sex but with Dean, Sam felt like he could take anything.

Sam cried and whimpered, calling Dean’s name. He knows Dean doesn’t like it very much when he’s loud. Sam wasn’t supposed to speak. He wouldn’t call what they do making love but there was definitely that spark of connection between them.

Usually a bond between two mates was strong, you could feel it ripple beneath your skin since it is a part of you. But, Sam barely felt a twinge of their bond unless Dean was mad or during sex. So, Sam relished in what little he had with Dean. Call him clingy but he wanted Dean and Sam wished the feelings were reciprocated. When they finished, both reaching a release, Sam rolled so he was curled on Dean’s chest. The Alpha sighed but didn’t move or make any other attempt to touch Sam.

And it really, really fucking hurt.

—–

Sam was honestly tired of being unwanted, especially so openly. Gabriel, Castiel’s alpha brother who once tried courting Sam, hated how the pretty omega was being treated. He and Dean didn’t get along at all because of that. Gabriel hated how Sam was treated and hated how Dean made the omega feel so worthless. He couldn’t let the alpha near his little brother either if he could help it, but Cas made his own decisions if proven beneficial.

“You deserve better,” Gabe would say, golden eyes worried and sad.

Sam would smile and nod, “I know. But, I need him.”

And the subject would be dropped.

——

Jealousy pulled through Dean as he watched Balthazar openly flirt with Castiel. The omega took the compliments perfectly, head held high and a shy smile on his face along with a pink blush. It made Dean’s skin crawl. He wanted to be the one that brought Cas great joy.

Last time he spoke with the omega, he flirted consistently. Until, Castiel stopped him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you already have an omega?”

“We never mated but technically yes,” Dean sighed honestly. Castiel had hummed but no longer responded to Dean’s flirting like before.

Just another way Sam ruined his life.

It wasn’t Sam’s fault, Dean knew. He was just taking his anger out on the omega. Sam was an okay guy, super sweet and smart. But he wasn’t like any normal omega and that’s what Dean wanted. Sam was tall instead of small and lean. Sam formed his own opinions and spoke his mind about everything, even ice cream flavors. He ate burgers with Dean and drank beer instead of apple juice and fruits (though Sam did love forcing an occasional salad).

A hand intertwining with his own caught Dean’s attention. He glanced at Sam, ready to snap and ask why the hell they were suddenly holding hands when he saw what Sam was looking at. An alpha named Jody and her little beta mate, Donna. In her arms was an adorable blonde-haired baby that they had just had three months ago. Dean felt a slight pang for Sam who obviously ached for a family but was stuck with Dean. He let Sam hold his hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

Sam looked at Dean in surprise, looking like he was expecting a reprimand. Dean rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to Cas who he found was staring at him curiously. Dean dropped Sam’s hand as if it were fire and smiled charmingly at Castiel. He didn’t notice Sam’s hurt, resigned expression like Cas did.

They had come home that evening, Dean in a sour mood per usual when his flirting with Castiel didn’t go as planned. Sam just looked tired, done.

“Dean,” Sam asked, getting his Alpha’s attention.

“What?”

“Are we ever gonna mate?”

“Excuse me?” Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I see all these omegas or betas with their mates, happily mated and forming a family and I’m just wondering―”

“Sam, you do know that we are never gonna do that, right?” Dean asked carefully, ignoring Sam’s crestfallen look. “I’m never gonna knot you. Look, I get it, seeing everyone with kids and stuff and you not having any but seriously? Can you honestly see us together?”

“Yes,” Sam said softly.

“Well, I can’t.”

“Cause all you see is Castiel.”

Dean heard the bitterness in his voice and grimaced.

“I don’t love you, Sam,” Dean was getting frustrated. “So, I’m not gonna mate with you.” “That’s it then?” Sam snapped. “Just-Just pining after an omega who doesn’t want you when there is someone right here who would die for you to give them an ounce of the attention you bestow on Cas!”

“Shut the hell up!” Dean growled.

“I want to be your mate, Dean! We have a bond but you won’t let it grow because you want Castiel. Well, I want you Dean!”

“I don’t want you, Sam, and I never will.”

“What can I do?!”

“You can leave!” Dean shouted. “You can just get out of my fucking life! I never wanted to be married to you, I never wanted you as my bond mate and I never wanted to spend my life with you! Just get out and don’t come back!”

He was panting, the tension clearing up and Dean got a good look at the omega. Sam’s eyes were watering, a crushed resigned look on his face. He looked like someone ripped out his heart and trampled on it and that’s pretty much what happened.

Sam tuned and walked away from Dean, into their bedroom. Dean stayed where he was, guilt twisting his stomach. Sam returned with a black backpack and headed to the door, eyes blank, losing the life that was always filled in them.

“I hope you get who you want, Dean,” Sam said gently as he walked out the door, placing something in Dean’s hand.

Dean took a breath, turning and watching his husband of four years walk out the door. He looked down in his hand and felt his heart ache as he rolled around the wedding ring he gave Sam that night, four years ago. Dean took a breath and walked to their (now his) room and flopped on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

——–

The first few nights without Sam was torture. Absolute torture. He couldn’t sleep without imagining that warm body invading his personal space and flopping on him.

At first, Dean played it off as missing the sex because it honestly was amazing but it turned into more. Dean hated having that big bed all to himself. He laid there, eyes tracing the ceiling, mind on overdrive.

Where was Sam now? Was he okay? Did he find somewhere to stay for the night?

The questions wouldn’t leave him alone and Dean worried himself for three days straight before knowing he needed to make his move and get a distraction.

——–

“Castiel?” Dean got the omega’s attention. Those gorgeous blue eyes that had once caught Dean’s attention were no match for Sam’s ever-changing orbs, but Dean pushed that thought away. He’s never noticed them before, why should they matter now?

“Dean,” He greeted in his low voice. Dean found himself suddenly wishing for a slightly higher one with a mischievously defiant tone. “Can I help you?”

“I wish to court you, Cas. I have been wanting to since we first met. Will you except me and become my mate?”

Castiel looked at Dean unblinkingly for a second, eyes slightly narrowed. “What about Samuel?”

“He…He left,” Dean admitted. God, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. He should be happy the cheeky loveable omega was gone.

Castiel continued staring before giving a swift nod. “Then yes, courting me would be adequate.”

Dean beamed happily, kissing the back of Castiel’s hand. This is what he’d been waiting for since he first laid eyes on the older omega. And while he was happy, Dean couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.

——–

Courting Castiel was…not what Dean expected. The omega had a schedule to keep, always up at a certain time. The omega didn’t want to stay in bed and cuddle in the morning like Dean had grown used too. Dean found himself longing for a warm body to curl into, for cold toes to press against his thighs and soft whispers of comfort that always managed to awaken Dean, those soft pink petal lips brushing against his temple until Dean pushed him away. Castiel made Dean a breakfast of eggs, meats, breads, cheeses, and not a hint of fruit, just like Dean wanted. Castiel, however, had a little bowl of strawberries and blueberries, and never once tried stealing from Deans bowl like Sam was so fond of doing.

Dean found himself longing for a small bowl of grapes and kiwi.

Castiel also didn’t have any views, he just agreed to Dean’s stand points like a good little omega. Dean, though acting like he hated it, loved when Sam argued his beliefs with Dean, always keeping the alpha on his toes. Castiel, on the other hand, quietly agreed with Dean like how old tradition said. Omegas should be seen but not heard. Sam always made himself known and had pride in what he believed, something Dean once thought was a bad thing but now, couldn’t help missing since Sam was usually right anyway.

Dean found himself longing for the debate partner he lost.

Since nothing was like how Dean planned it would go, he at least hoped fucking Castiel would be good. It had been a fantasy of his for years to get his cock into that tight hole and have the omega squeal his name as he came.

Turned out, Castiel didn’t make any noise, something Dean would usually beg for. But, he wanted to hear Castiel’s whimpers, hear the cries and moans that Dean knew would escape him. Dean wanted to see Castiel’s face flushed and in sheer ecstasy. But, none of that happened. Cas was quiet, only small grunts from every thrust. He also wasn’t very adventurous in bed like Sam was. Sam would try out anything, getting just as or more excited about whatever they were doing, making sex fun and different every time. With Cas though, it was sorta…boring.

Dean pulled out of Castiel before his knot came spitting out, noticeably smaller than any other knot Dean had made compared to when he was screwing Sam. He star-fished on the bed, waiting for his post-sex cuddle but Cas stayed on his side of the bed respectfully.

The alpha was miserable, to be frank. This isn’t at all what he wanted or who he wanted. He pulled out the necklace he wore around his neck, the wedding ring Sam had given back to him hanging on the silver chain. The aching in his chest grew and Dean felt like a part of him had been ripped out and never returned. It didn’t take long for Dean to figure out what he was feeling.

Dean found himself longing for Sam.

———  

“I’m sorry Cas….I just…I cant…anymore…I’m sorry…”

“I understand.”

“You….do?”

“Yes, it is plain as day that you and Sam Campbell are meant for each other.”

Dean flushed, realizing that he was probably the only person who didn’t know.

———

Now that Dean had this new revelation, he had to find his mate. Sam was his and the guilt that had been piling on Dean grew with every moment he thought about the fight they had. Sam had looked so heartbroken and crushed, like the love of his life rejected him.

Dean thought back to all the times Sam stuck with him. Sam comforted him when he was upset, took care of him when he was sick, fed him and always made sure Dean was okay. He didn’t have to do that. Sam could’ve thrown the towel in so much earlier than he did because Dean was a major dick. But Sam stayed because he loved Dean.

And Dean loved Sam.

He loved those adorable dimpled grins that looked like sunshine. He loved his narrow waist and firm stomach. His broad shoulders that always help Dean carry the weight of the burdens he thrusts upon them. Sam always looks on the bright, optimistic side, helping Dean see there are good things in life. Sam’s hugs were the best, especially from behind because he could lean into his omegas arms and soak in the love he always freely gave.

Dean was deeply, madly in love with Sam Campbell and he threw it all away for an omega who did things by the book.

Dean needed to find Sam and tell him he was sorry. Hopefully, the omega would listen and take him back.

He searched all the usual places he knew Sam would be, like the library, the bookstore, the fountain in the middle of a huge garden and even the park. Sam loved nature and animals; Dean remembered from their first year married and how Sam would drag Dean to all the nature reserves, pointing out different birds and flowers. At that point, Dean thought maybe they would have a chance at a happy marriage. But then he met Castiel and everything flew to shit.

Dean sighed, about to walk out of the park to find somewhere else to look when he saw something—or rather someone—laying down across one of the benches. Dean made his way to the bench, picking up his pace as he realized who it was.

“Sam?” He called, finally reaching the bench. He knelt by the omega, frown deep on his face as he saw the shivering form. “How long have you been here?”

Sam, having heard the noise, woke up blinking at Dean. He jerked up, startled, eyes wide as he stared at his ex-husband. “Dean?”

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean muttered softly.

Sam was surprised; Dean hadn’t called him Sammy since their first year of marriage. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Castiel?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Dean winced. “Aw Sammy. I’m so sorry babe.”

Sam didn’t look at Dean and instead rummaged through his bag. He started in surprise as something dangled in front of him. It was the wedding ring on the necklace.

“You kept it?”

Dean smiled at the awe in Sam’s voice.

“I never would have been able to throw it away.”

Sam was shocked into silence, eyes still on the wedding ring. Dean gently used his pointer finger to swipe Sam’s bangs from his eyes and behind his ear, easily making the movement tilt Sam’s chin up so they were eye to eye.

“I’m a stupid alpha,” He said softly.

“I could’ve told you that,” Sam teased wetly, eyes watering a bit. Dean snorted in amusement.

“I never looked right in front of me, never saw the most beautiful, smart, loving omega just waiting for me to see them. I never saw you and I am so sorry.” Dean pressed his nose against Sam’s cheek, breathing in the cinnamon and cream smell with a sigh of relief. “I love you, Sammy.”

Sam gasped, looking into Dean’s eyes for confirmation, to see if he truly meant it. The bond Dean had been blocking suddenly overflowed with emotion. Love poured through both of them as their soul intertwined. Dean looked at Sam with warm eye, leaning forward and gently kissing the soft chapped lips. Sam happily gave himself to Dean, the alpha making him feel strong.

Dean slipped the ring onto Sam’s finger, kissing his hand. Sam hiccupped, smiling brighter than ever. Dean gave Sam one last kiss, mumbling,

“Let’s go home.”

~Fin~

#wincest writing challenge #Wincensfw #wincest #fanfic #challenge #done #sorta late #oops

[parkhabits]

Like We Used To {Part 5}

Mark x Reader x Jackson Genre: Angst/Fluff/ Light Smut Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Seven days left. Mark was in panic mode now. If he couldn't find a way out he would be marrying Monica. Sure there was divorce or annulment, but since Monica was so set on marrying him, he didn’t even ponder the idea that she would agree to that. Even if there was a chance at that happening then what about you? Would he tell you everything and ask you to wait until he's divorced or the marriage is annulled? Wait for everything to settle down and blow over, how long would that take? Another thing that constantly lingered in his mind was Jackson.Would he have to yet again step aside and watch you love another man? If that were the case he knew he would go insane. There were so many constant questions and scenarios that he thought about that lead to a throbbing dull ache in Mark’s head as he rubbed his fingers over his temple. His patience and temper were starting to wear thin.

"Mark, are you listening to me?" Monica snapped, waving her hands in front of his face.

His attention focused back to Monica as she sat across from him. The headache still prominent. She was going over once again the plan for the night's rehearsal dinner. Mark still never understood what it was that had Monica digging her claws into him. Using you as leverage to force him to marry her. In the time that he had been with Monica he hadn’t known her to be like this. He didn’t want to hate her and had no idea why it had to be like this between the two of them. He wasn’t even sure if she had feelings for him.

Mark had been there through it all with you and your family. He was there when your family was near close to bankrupt. It was his family that you stayed with when your parent’s didn’t want you to see the struggle they were going through to make ends meat and support you. He was the one that held you when you cried and he had been there when things started to get better. He watched how hard your father worked to bring his tiny business back up again. Mark admired your father for his perseverance and willingness to try and do everything for his family. When everything started to stabilize, your family became whole again. There were no more arguments between your parents, no more times when you had come running into his arms crying. Everything had gotten better compared to the way things were before and he saw happiness once again with your family. Monica had threatened to take that all away.

Monica’s father owned one of the largest property management companies in the city. When things had started to pick up with your father’s company, he had decided to make a deal with Monica’s father. Investing everything he had worked for into that deal. The night Mark went to break off the engagement Monica had known it was because of you. If Mark were to break off the engagement she would tell her father it was your fault. Her father had already put in a large sum of money towards the wedding. Monica would make sure that the deal between your two fathers would never go through. By doing so, everything that your father had invested would be gone. Leaving your family in an even worse state than before and Mark didn't know how your family would overcome that. Mark would do anything to make sure that you and your family never experienced that again. Even if it meant marrying Monica.

You used to talk about weddings all the time with Monica and at one point you loved hearing about all of her plans and wanted to be involved as much as possible. You had to admit you weren’t fulfilling your duties as a maid of honor. Perhaps it was the guilty conscience you had felt because of your night with Mark or maybe it was the fact that no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get over your feelings for him. Seeing Monica plan her wedding with him was too hard. You stared down at the piece of paper in front of you. If you were struggling this much to write a little speech to say for their rehearsal dinner, you didn't know how you would manage writing your speech on their wedding day. You glanced at the clock that hung on your kitchen wall, an hour and a half left until the rehearsal and still nothing. Perhaps winging it was the best option, maybe the words would just spring out in the moment. You brushed the hair away from your face in frustration. You felt like the worst maid of honour ever; you couldn't think of any words to say to your best friend. Standing up from the table you rubbed at the tension in your shoulders from sitting too long. You might as well start getting ready if you weren't making any progress and you made your way to your bedroom.

Jackson was going to pick you up. You didn't really know what your relationship with him was. Last week things had escalated too quickly for you. You weren't going to deny that there was an attraction to him, but you wondered if some of that attraction stemmed from your desire to get over Mark. Everything was so sudden and you felt like you were overcompensating with Jackson as a way to avoid the feelings of hurt Mark had left you with. Stripping off your clothes you made your way to the shower, still deep in thought as you thought about everything that had happened in the last 3 weeks. The water ran hot over your body, easing some of the tension that had built from sitting in the chair all day. Last week after lunch with Monica and Mark, things had gotten heated with Jackson really quickly. You ended up at his place. That night had been spent getting to know each other more intimately. However it wasn't on the physical aspect like you had anticipated but on an emotional level. Though the kiss, if you would even call that steamy makeout session in the parking lot a kiss, hinted at the burning eagerness for each other; Jackson had gone back to being a gentlemen when you two arrived at his place. You appreciated that he wanted to take things slow and were willing to follow the pace he wanted, but you wouldn’t deny that after that kiss it left you with a profound ache.Without even planning it you had spent the night with Jackson, falling asleep while talking to him and waking up the next morning being held in his arms. It reminded you of how you used to be with Mark and it surprised your how easily you were able to fall into that with Jackson. Turning off the water, you hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself as you made your way towards your closet. You normally hated  shopping but yesterday’s excursion was entertaining as you searched for a dress to wear for the rehearsal dinner. You pulled out the satin dress laying it on your bed while you got ready. Although navy was a simple and ordinary color, the dress itself was not. It cut deep in the back with two slits along the side, revealing your legs whenever you walked. You had to admit it had fit your body perfectly, accentuating the curves of your body ideally. You let your hair fall loose, only adding a bit of tousled curls to it. The doorbell rang just when you had finished adding the final touches to your makeup.

Slipping on your heels you went to answer the door. Shopping had been worth it when you saw Jackson’s face once he saw you. His eyes trailed down your body to your legs then back up and you thought you saw a glint in his eyes hidden quickly by his smile.

“Wow, Y/N. You look stunning,” Jackson said as he stepped inside.

Jackson looked good too, wearing a grey dress shirt with a mandarin collar that showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist. “Thank you. Are those for me?” Your eyes trailed to the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He stuck them out for you, “Of course” when you reached for them he pulled them away. “Except I don't know if I should let you hold these.”

“And why is that?” You frowned.

“They don't look as pretty compared to you,”  he said smoothly.

You laughed, enjoying his compliment. That's one thing you learned about Jackson. He always said the right things and always came off so smooth. A part of you wondered if he was like that with all the other women he had seen and been with before. The thought had a developed a little feeling of jealousy that caught you off guard.

“Well they will look pretty in a vase on my coffee table,” you said as you grabbed the flowers and walked over to the kitchen. Jackson followed you, admiring the exposed skin of your back and the way the slits revealed more of your legs as you walked.

You moved around the kitchen  searching for a vase while Jackson leaned against the archway. Enjoying the way the material clung to you as you reached to the shelf to grab something to put the flowers in. When you found the vase you wanted, you filled it with water then walked over to the living room as you placed the vase on the coffee table. You glanced up while arranging the flowers, catching Jackson staring at you while leaning against the archway still, a grin on his face.

“What?” you blushed.

He sauntered over to you, “Nothing, it’s just..” his hands roamed over your waist as he felt the satin material that clung to your body. “You’re really beautiful.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” you said coyly.

“It makes me worried bringing you out in public. I might have to punch every guy who stares at my girl longer than three seconds,” Jackson teased.

You cocked your eyebrow at him, a fleeting feeling rushing over you. “Your girl?”

“Ah, I guess I should ask first before I say that,” he beamed.

“You probably should,” you replied playfully, all the while your heart was pounding against your chest.

“Y/N, be my girlfriend,”

You poked his chest as you laughed, “I thought you said you were going to ask. That sounded more like a command.”

Jackson chuckled, his hands still holding your waist as he brought you closer. “Okay okay. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You hoped you hid your hesitation well from Jackson. The hesitation that sprung from the image of Mark crossing your mind. If you said yes to Jackson that would be it. You would actively try and push all of your feelings for Mark out of your mind like you were supposed to. If you said yes, you would dedicate your feelings to Jackson. If you said yes, you would let go of any hope that you and Mark would be together.

“Yes,” you answered, linking your arms around his neck.  

Jackson grinned as he leaned down. His lips gently meeting yours then he rested his forehead against yours. “We might be a little late to the rehearsal dinner,”

“We’re already late,” you quipped.

He pressed his body against yours, his fingers brushing you hair over your shoulders and exposing your neck as his lips roamed over it causing you to shudder, “If we’re already late then I guess there’s no hurry.”

Mark scanned the room, close friends and family were all gathered for the rehearsal dinner. All except the one he was desperate to see. Where were you? He wondered. Every time someone had walked through the door he had hoped for you but was left with disappointment when he didn't see you. He had decided that he needed to tell you. He had to let you know that he was in love with you, that marrying Monica was only to protect you and your family.

“Mark,” Monica walked over to him smiling waving at people she knew. “Where the hell is y/n? It doesn't look good on me if my maid of honor isn't here.” She said through gritted teeth, but acted as though she was saying something very sweet to Mark.

“I’m not sure,” you were barely ever late and Mark had started to worry. What if you got into an accident on the way here or something happened to you?

“Call her, dinner and speeches will be starting.” Monica walked away.

You laughed against his lips when Jackson lowered you onto the couch in the living room. His body pressing into yours as his hands roamed down to your thigh.

“Jackson, we’re late,” you squirmed underneath him, excited by the way his body felt against yours.  

“Should I be fast?” Jackson grazed his tongue along your lower lip, “or slow?” He murmured as he deepened the kiss, running his fingers along your thigh as he inched your dress higher up your legs.

The dull ache Jackson left you with before was back, as you arched up against him. Only answering his question by digging your fingers into his shoulder and bringing him closer.

“As much as I think this dress is beautiful. I’d love to see what’s underneath.” His hand slipped under your dress until it met the delicate lace material. You bit down on you lower lip when you felt his thumb graze over the thin fabric, then slip under the waistband. When Jackson pulled his hand away you looked at him with confusion.

“Your phone is ringing,” he chuckled, seeing the dazed and confused look on your face.

Reaching over to the table, he picked up your cell phone and answered it. He still remained kneeling between your legs, your dress hiked up barely revealing anything.

He cleared his throat before answering, “Hello?” Jackson smiled, giving you a quick wink.

Mark stopped his anxious pacing when he heard another voice pick up your phone. Quickly he checked to make sure he called the right number and he had. “Is Y/N there?”

“She’s…” Jackson looked down at you lying on the sofa just beneath him then cleared his throat. “Getting ready at the moment,” he grinned at you.

Mark recognized the voice on the other line now, a pitting feeling forming in his gut that mixed with jealousy and anger. “Can you let her know that Monica is waiting for her,”

“Oh, hi Mark. We’ll be there soon. ”

You froze when you heard his name. You didn't know why a guilty feeling swarmed over you. The sexual desire that loomed in the air completely vanishing as you sat up, shifting yourself away from Jackson. Without saying anything Mark ended the call. Jackson looked at your phone then back at you.

“That was Mark?” You asked, suddenly reminded of the abiding feelings that still remained.

“Yeah,” Jackson tossed the phone onto the table, “He said Monica is waiting for you. Now where were we?” Jackson leaned in but you placed your hand against his chest.

“We should go now,” you pulled down the hem of your dress.

“Sure, we’ll continue later?” He kissed you and you stiffened, “Everything alright?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m just nervous for my speech.” you laughed half heartedly but knew it was more than that

“You’ll do great. You’ve been friends with them for a long time. You love them,” One more than the other,you thought to yourself.  Jackson kissed your forehead. “Let’s go,”

Mark stood there, Monica clinging to his arm while she continued to ramble on about something he didn’t care about to her father’s business partners. His eyes kept glancing over to the entrance, waiting for you to walk in.

“Isn’t that right Mark?” Monica squeezed his arm.

He nodded and smiled but his mind was elsewhere. Then he saw you walk in with Jackson.

“Excuse me,” Mark said, unlinking his arms with Monica as he made his way towards you.

“Y/N,” he said when he approached you.

There it was, the fluttering in your chest that only Mark brought ever since your night together. “Hi Mark,”

“Hi Mark. Sorry we’re late, you know how women are when they get changed” Jackson laughed, placing his hand on your lower back.

Mark had no patience for Jackson and ignored him. His main focus was you, “Y/N do you mind if I talk to you for a minute,”

“Y/N there you are! I was wondering why you weren’t here yet!”

“Hi Mom,” you kissed her cheek and Mark stepped aside. “Where’s dad?” you asked looking around. Quickly taking in the venue of the country club.

“He’s over there talking to Monica’s father. Business talk most likely,” she laughed, “Y/N, there’s a young gentlemen holding onto your waist.” Your mom teased.

You cleared your throat, “Mom this is Jackson…My boyfriend,” without being able to help it you looked at Mark.

Mark’s chest constricted. Boyfriend?

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Jackson. Why don’t you escort me to the bar while I interrogate you.” She laughed.

“It will be my pleasure,” Jackson held out his arm, “Can I get you anything?” he asked you.

You shook your head, “I’m okay,” though maybe a drink would settle your nerves, Jackson and your mom walked off.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Where’s Monica? Maybe I should go see her before she kills me,” you started to walk off but Mark grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he started to lead you away.

“Y/N! You’re late.” Monica emerged from the crowd a frown on her face. “And you’re the first to make the toast. Go to the mic,” she ordered, giving you a nudge towards the stand. Not wanting to argue and upset her any further you made your way towards the mic. When you were at a far enough distance she turned and scowled at Mark. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I just need to talk to her,”

“Think about your actions Mark,” she tilted her head towards where your father stood talking with her father.

“I get it Monica,” Mark said through gritted teeth.

There was a wave of panic materializing in you as you walked towards the podium. What were you going to say? “Hi, everybody.” There were hushes among the crowd and conversations died down as everyone’s attention started to focus on you. “I hope everyone is having a wonderful evening.” You gulped, your hands growing clammy. You waited until most people settled into their seats, Mark and Monica sat down right in front of you. “For those of you who don’t know I’m Y/N, Monica’s maid of honor and Mark’s best friend since childhood. I’ll keep things short and hopefully sweet and save the rest for their actual wedding day,” and hopefully be more prepared than you were right now, “Monica, you’ve waited for your wedding day since as long as I can remember, and I’m really truly excited that the day is finally approaching.” You made eye contact with Mark who was staring at you, causing a slight pull in your chest, “Speaking as someone who has known Mark his entire life, I just wanted to say how lucky you are.” You didn’t break eye contact with Mark and he didn’t either. There was a burning sensation that was starting to build up in the back of your throat as you started to feel the tears well up in your eyes, too many emotions were hitting you all at once. “Mark, since childhood you were always the one I would go to when things got hard. You were always my rock and the one I knew I can depend and lean on. There is no other man like you and I love you.” You choked back your tears at the truth behind those words. No matter what, no guy was going to be like Mark. You weren't going to love anyone the way you loved him, no matter how hard you tried to get over him. A tear rolled down your cheek as you saw the man you loved sitting beside his fiancée, the one he loved. In what way do you love me? Mark sat there wondering. Did you love him the way he loved you? Or had you gone back to saying those words as his best friend only? You wiped at the tear that rolled down, clearing your throat, “So Mark, just as you had been for me. I hope you can now be Monica’s rock, the one she can depend and rely on. Monica you have truly found an amazing guy.If we could all raise our glasses and share in a toast at how lucky they are to have each other.” You watched as everyone raised their glasses, the sound of clinking glass and cheers filled the room but your mood didn’t match the atmosphere of the room.

Jackson had been waiting for you at the end of the podium. Smiling and clapping like everyone else was. “That was great Y/N, see I told you it would be fine.” He kissed your forehead.

Your head spun and you felt light headed. It was too hard. You couldn’t deny it any further that you loved Mark. Seeing him marry Monica was going to be too much for you, you felt your chest constrict.

“Jackson, do you think we can go home?” you asked.

“Everything alright?”

You nodded, “I finished my maid of honor duties for the night. Maybe we can finish what we started earlier?” you suggested. You felt guilty for hoping Jackson would help you forget about all your feelings for Mark.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but a smile formed on his face. You nodded, “Okay, I’ll get the car.” He kissed you then walked off.

“I’ll get my jacket,” you smiled.

You glanced around hoping to find Monica to tell her goodbye. You would make up an excuse that you weren't feeling well. When you couldn't find her you decided you would just call her later. You made your way to the coat room. When you entered, you rummaged through the racks to find where Jackson had placed it. You heard the door open behind you and you turned around to see Mark. He shut the door behind him and locked it. He finally had a chance to talk and be with you alone  and he wasn’t going to let anyone else interrupt him.

“Mark, sorry I was going to try and find you two. I’m not feeling very well,” you lied. Mark didn’t say anything, “Jackson’s waiting in the car. I’ll see you guys later,” You didn’t want to stay any longer alone with Mark, you might say something you might regret. When you walked past, Mark stopped you, grabbing hold of your wrist and turning you around to face him.

“Don’t leave,”

You hoped Mark couldn’t feel your thready pulse under his hand. “Mark-”

“Don’t leave with Jackson.” Mark interrupted. “Don’t be with Jackson.”  He was supposed to tell you everything that Monica held against him but something else came over him. A yearning and desperate desire for you was all he felt.

In a swift motion Mark pulled you against him, his lips meeting yours hungrily. At first you resisted, not because you didn’t want to but because you knew just beyond the door Monica, Jackson, your family and friends were there. It was wrong but felt so right as you parted your lips for him, no longer pushing against his chest but fisting your hands into his dress shirt and pulling him closer. There was a surging fire in your veins at the taste of Mark’s lips sending a slow burn straight to your core. You wouldn’t fight against it as your body quivered under his greedy hands and your lips moved against his ravenous mouth. You both felt it, the need for each other. Unlike the first time, you couldn’t blame the alcohol for influencing both of your actions right now. Mark’s lips had you drunk, head spinning as he hiked your dress up, bringing the lace material down your legs, letting them fall onto the floor around you. His hands digging into your waist and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands moved down, fumbling against his belt buckle as you desperately undid them. You felt him press against your core, hard and ready. Both of your breathing labored as you two moved swiftly to feel each other. He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as your back pressed against the door of the coat room.

“Y/N,” he murmured as his lips explored your neck.

“Don’t stop Mark please,” you whimpered as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

Your breath hitched when he slid into you, bracing you against the door, as his mouth moved back to ravage your mouth. Muffled moans and arduous breathing filled the coat room as he thrusted into you. He groaned at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“Mark,” you moaned, descending into the pleasure as Mark brought you closer and closer to the edge.

An animalistic possessive need took over. You were his. No longer would he hold himself back from you, giving another man the opportunity to be with you. No, not anymore. “You’re mine Y/N,”

“Yours,” you breathed, feeling the wave approaching.

Mark gripped your hips harder as he felt himself on the verge of letting go as he continued to move in and out of you. You were the first to experience the unwinding wave of ecstasy, moaning as you clenched around him, driving Mark over the edge as he joined you into the sinking pleasure. Your body was limp but Mark still held onto you. When he was sure he could feel his legs again he put you down. Still holding onto you to make sure you could feel your legs too. He rested his forehead against yours as he strived to catch his breath. Your body still tingled from the moment’s pleasure but your mind was all over the place as you tried to recollect what just happened.

“Mark, what did we just do?”

“Y/N, I love you.”

It was everything you wanted to hear from him. What you waited so long for after the first time he told you. Before you could respond you heard a knock against the door.

“Y/N?” Jackson’s voice called out.

Lea ♡ A/N: This was a really long chapter. Sorry for the long wait xox

#mark tuan #kwriterskollection #g7hyungnet #got7snet #thekpopnet #got7 mark #mark tuan smut #got7 #got7 smut #got7 fic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan x reader #jackson wang #got7 jackson #jackson wang suggestive #mark tuan series #mark tuan fanfic

[ultimaxell]

Until We Fall : Vampire AU

It was like all the air was being pulled from her, the second those fingers traced over her cheek, electricity simmering over her skin at the feeling. She did not want to admit it, did not want to say it had actually happened but she could feel as she pressed her cheek closer to the warmth of those fingertips. A shiver running up the length of her spine in the same moment the little whine of desperation escaped her lips, those fingers moving to pull the gag from her lips. She wanted to say it had been so long since she had felt any affectionate contact, that was why she let her captor touch her so softly. That she missed the connection between another person and herself that did not bring the pain filled side effects.

But those were all excuses to a truth that she did not want to admit to herself. A truth that, if she was staying with this honesty thing, was as far from the reality she wished to live.

  Her chest rose and fell, a heave to the motion that she could not stop as the shutters ran up the length of her spine. Those fingers moving again to loosen the blindfold, her eyes locked onto multicolored eyes that she never wanted to see again. A face of an angel, perfection personified, with the heart of a devil underneath stared back at her. Those eyes deceiving as always, something soft swam behind them. Something warm and inviting, something she wanted to fall into, and could feel herself lean into that hand. Those fingers that moved under her chin only to make her peer up directly at him.

  A low whine pitched somewhere in her chest, as those eyes took her in. A plague of emotions behind those lids, confusion, worry, and something else. Her heart was hammering as he pulled her up, her blood screaming at her when those fingers once again caught her chin, his thumb finger running right underneath the split in her lip. Those eyes lingering before drawing back up to her own eyes. There was actual concern behind them. A feat that she did not need to fall into but easily did.

  Everything hurt, everything was sore and singing in pain. But she wouldn’t tell him, would not allow her dignity to drop so low as to admit to the leech what he more than likely wanted to hear.

  She had not noticed her own eyes until this moment, of which she hadn’t realized were brimming with tears. The burn that settled behind her eyes seemed obnoxious now. She was terrified, her body shaking in his fingers even though he touched her so softly, his words nothing less than heaven on her ears. But still, her heart was in her throat, her teeth clattered as she swallowed, trying to push some of the pride she had, the little bit of dignity she still owned back up to the fore front of her being.

 “Lucky?... That’s what you call this? Being bound and gagged daily? Being beaten, watching the person I want to protect be beaten? Sitting and waiting and wondering when or how our deaths are going to take place?”

  But god, he smelt, good. His hands felt heaven sent against her flesh and his eyes had her almost melting on sight. There was something lying underneath it all, something screaming at her to fight him, something screaming at her to revolt, retaliate in any way just to get away from the man. He had done terrible things, left her to die and only decided in the last seconds of her life to spare her. No this was a man that would take her life without a second glance, a man that would tear into with a smile gracing those perfect lips.

  Then there was the part of her that was yielding, yielding to nothing but the desire of his touch. Yielding to the comfort that was brought along by his being.

  “In all respect, fuck you, your majesty.”

 -----

  The first thing she heard was footsteps. It was her first clue, besides the voice that had shot out, had answered the men who had brought her here with a hardened voice that resonated with the shiver of a leader. Instinctively, Ashlin’s head snapped up, eyes that could not see turning toward the sound of approaching footfalls, each thump matching another of her heard, every rhythmic sound sending her nerves into a frenzy. The sound of them stopped before her, Ashlin not9ing that though whoever it was did not touch her, kept a careful distance of a few inches between them, she could feel them, sense them like she could sense the coming of a storm, all cool wind and soft breezes along her body. Their body was warm, close enough that she could heard his breath, the slow intake of air as he looked down at her, her lips pulling into a thin line as she lifted her head slightly, a slight effort to look more dignified than she felt. Her throat burned, her body ached and her head pounded with this unknown poison racing through her veins, but she refused to let it show, refused to allow it to show on her Face

 That is, until he touched her.

 The next thing she could feel was fire, bright hot need, burning and vivid along her skin as she felt his fingertips run, lightly, along her skin. It was a soft touch, hardly anything notable but it stung like she had been slapped, the brush of his skin lighting up her skin like fireworks. She stiffened, feeling as he ran his fingers through her her hair, to find the tie that held the cloth over her eyes. She marveled, silently, at how he made quick work of the knot on the back of her head, the cloth falling away to reveal closed lids, ones that she moved, opened slowly as she swallowed thickly enough for everyone in the room to hear. Her gaze remained steady on the floor, violet eyes locked on the chaos of the man before her, taking in every stitch, every slight shuffle as he stood before her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he forced what he wanted out of her, before she would have to look up at him.

 Her gaze traveled, moving up his legs, his hips. His waist, taking not that though clothing blocked her view of his naked for, it did little to hid the strength that slide under his skin. She could see it in his broad shoulders, wide chest, his arms and legs thick with muscles that could easily annihilate her with a single twitch. He seemed easy in his kin, something that warned her that he was used to having power, and he must have been used to using it, considering he held no hesitation to his movement, simply went in for what he wanted, paying no mind to consequences he might have or may he simply didn’t see her as a threat

 Ashlin believed it to the later more than anything.

 Ashlin was not…. Strong, not in the common sense of the word.  She was small, weighing only about 100 pounds soaking wet and standing at 5’3, that was incredibly small. Her body sported little to no muscles, and he didn’t strike a very intimidating picture when you first met her. She had always been… willowy, waifish in terms of body, but it had never held a problem before, for her aim was more than enough to make up for any physical limitation she may have had. People say her as an easy target…. But you could not kill what you could not touch, and Ashlin’s aim always rang true.

 But her aim did her no good here, and the man before her didn’t seem worried that she might retaliate in the slightest.

 Her heart pounded, exasperating the headache that sang through her veins and made her whole-body ache, made her whole figure shake with some unspoken need, something in her calling, harsher now that he was close, louder now that his hands were on her and that she could feel his breath brushing over the tops of her hair. Her knees felt weak, wobbly, as she trailed her eyes higher, past his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Before she found herself staring at his face, dark blue locked with vivid violet as her eyes widened, and that need she had just barely been managing to keep contained exploded past her hold.

 “A-a….”

 There was no uncertain amount of distress in her voice. No uncertain amount of terror on her face as she realized the words would not come, her lips refusing to form the words that should have fell easily from her tongue. His thumb brushed over her lip. Drawing a sharp breath from the girl who usually had such good control over what she did, had a commander hold on her own emotions.  She stared at him, his features, his face, all new but somehow she knew them, knew them almost as well as her own, and she was absolutely drowning in them, hair as brown and thick as the oak of her home town, eyes bluer then the darkest pits of the ocean.

 Ashlin turned her head, yanking her chin away from him as she breathed in, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She meant to get away from him, to take a step back. But her body betrayed her, instead of moving backwards like she wanted, the moment she began to move she tilted, like something had pushed her, straight into his hold, between his lifted arms as her fore head pressed against his chest, her body shaking hearing his hammering heart just under skin and bone. It matched hers, at the very least.

 She wanted to talk, to say something articulate to make it seem like she wasn’t just throwing herself at him. But there was something in her, something strong, powerful that refused to unbind her mind, pulling tighter against her thoughts the more she struggled against it. This need… It was overwhelming, and there was only so much Ashlin could fight after five days of constant attack from this poison in her veins, the one that refused to go away. Everything hurt, her body, her mind, her soul, and just being near him… seemed to make that pain edge.

 “It’s Ashlin…. What have you done to me?”

 Her voice was dry, hoarse from disuse and pain. She felt both like she was drowning and like she was dying of thirst, her senses overwhelmed as her head pounded with his heart and her mind, not nearly as sharp as it was before, not nearly as calculated as it had been before.

 “What’s wrong with me? What did you do?”

   ------

 Later, he would account his unraveling to the little whine, that little hum of despair that fell past her pretty pink

lips as she leaned into his hand, leaned into his touch like it was her only lifeline in a sea of despair that she could not escape. The sound…. Did something to him, tapped into the similar feeling that had been boiling in his chest for… days now, the aching feeling of needed blurred the lines between each day so that he could not accurately give a number as to how many days had passed in the blur of need, but hearing, hearing her desire something in him with just as much desperation as he had for her.

 It was enough to make his blood boil.

 It took everything in him not to take her then, to not take her at that tiny little sound and to keep his hands still. The feeling of her skin was heaven, silk, satin, lace and everything he equated with sensual desire and longing, but here it was, wrapped up in this tiny human slip of a girl, in one of the few humans he knew he would never be able to have as he truly wanted. Most vampires, who found a human they so liked, would take them, keep them as their own personal living blood source and servant until the end of their days. It was a fairly common practice, one his own court, their blood, their families were not immune to. Aiden himself had taken one long ago, and while Carson had never looked down on him for it, he had never really understood why it was Aiden, of all people, had decided to take a little wisp of a human in as his own, or as they were formally called in Court, as his pet.

 Now he could, and he figured he owed an apology of some sort to the red headed bodyguard, but if he was going to be honest, Aiden would never hear it.

 The only difference was, unlike Aiden’s, who had a long term dependency on him and seemed to wilt whenever Aiden would leave, who thrived when he showed her any bits of attention, despite the need that ran as rampant through him as it did her, this one seemed to despise him, hate his very being with everything she had even as her body was calling for him. There was a look in her eye, he mused as mismatched brown caught hold of watery blue eye, sparkling lakes in a thunderstorm that was the emotions she held, that screamed of her disdain, that cursed his name without even knowing it. It didn’t matter that her body was craving him, that she was leaning into him with the impatience’s of a lover, Requiem’s mind was far from broken, and that brought Carson a bright, vivid burst of joy.

 That joy was quickly diminished by the sudden anger that surged in his gut, burned his throat and eyes as her voice, pure, soft, perfection, filled the space between them.

 She chose to selectively hear what it was he was saying, answering only a part of it as she snapped her answer back at him. There was something seriously wrong with him. He knew, because her words on any other occasion would not have brought such a reaction out of him, and as much as he wanted to think logically, his mind burned, hazed over in rage and he could hardly see through the red fog that had built up around him. His hand moved, steadily, purposefully, catching either side of her face to press viciously into her jaw, feeling as her jaw was forced open, her cheeks, skin and fingers between teeth as he lifted, pulled her up, up up, until she was fighting to stand on her tiptoes, his eyes flashing with a warning most others did not see.

 Carson’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he held himself back from simply tearing into her like he wanted to. He watched her struggle for a moment, a second before his words came sliding through snapping teeth and bitter tongues, his hand crushing her jaw just slightly as he pulled her to him. Her breath was on his skin, and her lips brushed over his for a moment as he spoke, and really, it was the only thing keeping him grounded, from flying off the handle

 How strange that she made him so furious yet calmed him at the same time.

“You’re lucky, because I haven't found it in me to kill you yet. No doubt you’ll make some smart aleck reply on how that is your wish, how you want to die, but you know very, VERY little on what I can do. You’re scared, your fear is all over your face when you look at me, but compared to what I can do, what i am able to do… What I exposed you to was nothing. Death by a vampire is gruesome, but Death from a king is a whole other game. We don’t play nice, we don’t have mercy, and if you think I’ll stop at you, you're dead wrong. I had to stop because One motion I made almost killed you, and You are lucky that something in me made me save you.

 “You are alive simply because I wish it, you are here because I wanted you to be.  I suggest, if you like the privilege of seeing your little friend again…” He turned her head toward Ashlin, the little human now in Abram’s grasp, close enough that she couldn’t run, even if she wanted to, jerked it sharply enough to draw a gasp of pain from her, which only enticed yet another snarl from him, “You’ll start appreciating what it is I’ve done for you. Any and all inconveniences in your life are drawn from your nasty little habit of attacking every vampire that comes your way, so, in tandem, Fuck you, Princess.”

 Carson Dropped her face, letting her go so she could stand on her own two feet again. His hand moved, slid into his pocket to pull out a knife, the blade flicking out and gleaming in the low firelight.

 “Stay still.”

 Carson moved, grabbing her arms and pulling her closer, the blade sinking straight into the ropes that bound her hands and cutting them, letting them fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap. His expression never changing as he spun the blade between his fingers, a little flourish before he closed it and pocketed it once more.

 “My name is Carson, and you have been claimed by me. Meaning your life is in my hands, if you die, it will be by me. I would say you don’t have to worry about it, but you also seem to have a habit of running that pretty little mouth of yours and getting under people’s skin. Not a bad trait, I like a girl with a back bone, but I warn you, there’s only so much I will put up with.”

 ------

 Her hair fell across her face in a silky fall of brunette strands. Faintly shocked that he could see the individual colors, Abram could only stare at her hair. For one moment, he couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, drag air into his lungs. It was impossible, yet the hand he raised to the fall of brown hair was smeared red with blood. Blood that he wiped so tenderly off those lips. Red, not a muddy gray. His fingers brushed her hair back over her shoulder with exquisite gentleness, an instinct bred into his bones, exposing the line of her neck to him. She didn't seem to notice, working meticulously on trying to keep herself up right. Her skin was soft and inviting. Like satin. He bent his head forward, slowly, steadily, the fangs lengthening, the demon roaring, his body clenching. Her breath was warm against his skin. His teeth almost touched her pulse, that vulnerable pinpoint beckoning seductively.

  Her blouse gaped open, revealing exquisite breasts, lush and full and soft enough to pillow his head. He wanted to slip his hand inside her shirt and hold warm flesh as he bent to her neck. Her heartbeat more enticing than any he had ever heard.

  Her words were a melody on his ears, dancing through his mind as his fingers gripped the silk strand of hair, pulling back on them with enough force to snap her head back. His nose ran the length of her neck, his body crying out for hers as he pressed himself against the soft curves of her body.

  “Calm, Khaleen. I won’t let anything more happen to you. It’ll all be explained”

  She made a sound, frowning, still absorbed in her steady work, of steadying herself. Abram inhaled, taking the scent of her deep into his body. He didn't have control of her mind, and he was too enthralled to waste what was left of his control on working out the intricate puzzle. There was a nagging in his mind, screaming for him to claim what rightfully belonged to him. Something telling him to tie them together. And apparently when it came to his one he was a weak-willed man. He whipped up his arms, locking her body to his as his teeth sank deep into her neck.

White-hot pain lashed through Ashlin's body, danced like a whip of lightning through her bloodstream, heating her body so that every nerve ending was alive and pulsing with fire. The pain gave way to a dark, erotic, slumberous ecstasy she was helpless to resist. Abram was certain she struggled, but he was like iron, her softer body battering itself against his hard one, and he didn't seem to notice to the outer world. Didn’t seem to notice the screaming girl in the same room, he was internally lost. She felt the strength growing in him, spreading through him, even as her own strength seemed to slide away from her. There was a part of her that seemed to be separate, standing apart, watching and feeling in a kind of horror. There was fire in her blood, moving through her body, muscles clenching, tightening, going boneless, pliant in his ironlike grip.

  Abram glanced up at the camera trained on him, his mouth twisting in a humorless smile, flashing his white teeth. With his eyes staring straight at the lens, he lowered his head and stroked a caress across the pinpricks on her neck with his tongue. That look would tell them everything. He knew each of them, knew their scent; he knew his enemies. Their stench was in his very lungs, and he was a hunter. He had gone from prey to predator with one small infusion of blood. It wasn't enough to close the bond, but it was enough to allow his fate with hers to entwine. They wouldn’t take her from him, they would not be taking the one thing in this word that he already considered precious.

  He lifted the Ashlin's limp body easily bridal style, moving with a graceful show of strength. He had every intention of drawing his enemies to him and away from his family. But first he would destroy everything they had built out in the world. They hid their laboratory away from prying eyes. They hid their hideous torture chamber deep within the forest, thinking they were far from the law, far from justice, but he would show them who owned this part of the world, who had owned it for a long, long time.

  Ashlin erupted into a wild struggle, attempting to squirm away from him.

 But Abram only tightened his hold on her.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You have no way to escape. It is impossible. Lie still." His voice was a soft, menacing command.

  Ashlin lay quietly, feeling the enormous strength in his arms. She fought down her panic, trying desperately to think. Her body had become lead. It was an effort to lift her arm, make a fist, pound on his chest. She was dizzy and sick. His emotions were swamping her, a wild swirling of dark danger beating at her. She had never come close to feeling such overwhelming emotions. They welled up like a volcano, explosive, violent, very intense. She sensed something wild and untamed, a predator without equal. Her neck must have throbbed and burned as she wondered what manner of demon she had unleashed.

 He knew she felt the strength gathering in him. Felt it.

  Carefully, he helped the small slip of a female, retaining possession of the woman by holding her body close to his, until they made their way to a nook in the room. He felt her. Every inch, every curve. Her skin was unbelievably soft. He bent his head to her thick mane of flowing hair, inhaling the scent of her. It took a tremendous amount of self-control not to bury his face in the silken strands.

  She was very frightened, the fear swamping her despite the fact that he had tried to soothe her. Her brain patterns were different, the most difficult he had ever encountered. He caught her chin firmly in his hand and tipped her head back so her strange eyes were forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes were shaped liked a cat's, a deep violet in color. Her lashes were long and inky black color. He stared down into her eyes, a simple hypnotic technique that should have calmed her instantly, but instead he could hear the frantic rhythm of her heart pick up.

  Ashlin tried desperately to regain her energy. Her legs were very heavy, her arms still leaden and he knew this without even having to touch her mind. He was the only thing holding her up. She was dizzy. She blinked rapidly, trying to find a way to regain her ability to think clearly.

  "What's wrong with me?" Her mouth was dry and her voice sounded far away to her own ears.

  “I took your blood Khaleen, and I took a lot.” His knuckles brushed over her cheek bones, his thumb moving to trace over her bottom lip as he watched her every movements.

  Abram answered softly, honestly. "There is no need to fear me, I will replace what was lost." His arms tightened possessively, his body sliding over the length of hers so that he could watch those eyes that drew him in.

  Her eyes widened with horror as he stared at his hands, the wrist pressed against his own mouth until he bit into it, enough to draw the blood she needed in her system. Ashlin drew in on herself, stifling a gasp as he tore a long cut in his own wrist. Blood dripping as she watched in a fascinated horror. His own mouth working over the wound to draw more of the life-giving sustenance from himself.

  He bent his head to hers, her breath warm against his skin. His lips grazed over hers for a moment, before he moved his mouth against hers, nudging her lips open and pressing his tongue inside. She tasted hot, like spice and secrets, like warm summer nights and a midnight rendezvous. He found himself nudging her lips apart and pressing his tongue inside to get more of her, swallowing her grunts as she tried to push against his form.

  Blood trickled from the corner of their lips, meeting the lilac pillow underneath her head.

#XellWrites #UltimaWrites #renekostudios #Carson Dhouti #Requiem Bates #Ashlin Baxter #Abram Lee #Post 4 #Vampire AU #Until We Fall : Vampire AU #Story