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werewolfbansheelove · 2 years

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The Sallie House Pt. 1

A/N: I'm trying something new so I love Sam and Colby, even though I get creeped out by the scary things they put out but I still like their content.

Summary: Sam and Colby take you a Empathic to investigate the Sallie House and see what goes on.

Warnings: Sallie, (I'm counting her as a warning) and Language

Words: 2k

You were anxious about the place you were going to and it was the Sallie House in Atchison, Kansas. You were a bit terrified and you weren't even in the house but the energy you felt was like somber and dark.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sam asked, as you were looking at the house and you were standing right beside him.

You shook your head and said. "No, something feel dark about this place and we're not even in the house yet."

"Why you say that?" Sam asked, now confused and inside a tiny bit scared.

"Well, for one, I had this instant feeling that shit's gonna go down. And last I didn’t want to get out of my car, that’s how bad I’m feeling about this place." Y/N said, looking anxious.

"Well we’re already here, we can’t turn back now." Sam said putting a hand on their shoulder.

They went inside of the house and they were hit by a gnarly smell. "It smells haunted." Nate said.

Sam and you sniffed the air and did smell a bad smell. But you could smell death with a hint of something burning. "Yeah, I hate the smell." The historian said, chuckling.

They walked in and you didn’t feel right about this place. "It feel musty in here." Colby comment.

"I hear people catch on fire in here, is that true?" Nate asked and you snorted in a laugh.

"No, they get scratched." The historian said, taking off her coat.

"Get scratched?" Colby asked.

"Men get scratched." She said and the boys groaned.

"That means three of us have a lot to worry about." Sam said and the historian and Y/N chuckled at him as Sam tried to figure it out.

"That means I’m safe for tonight." You said, grinning and doing a slight happy dance, which Colby and smiled at you.

The birds sat down as you didn’t want to sit down but watch. Sam took off his coat as Nate got really close to Sam’s face making Sam a bit uncomfortable and you laughed.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, uncomfortable.

"Yeah."

"Seth, you ready?" You asked, holding back a giggle.

He said yeah.

You let out the giggle that you held in. "They're silly." Colby said.

"Alright guys, we are here at the infamous Sallie House before we get started, we would love to hear a bit of the history and if you could introduce yourself to the house that would be awesome." Sam said looking at the historian.

"Hi, I'm Maryjane, I'm the big coordinator for the chamber of commerce and the manager of the Sallie House." Maryjane introduced herself. "I've met Sally. She's nice to me."

"You met her, so you have had paranormal experience here." Colby said.

"I have." Maryjane agreed.

“Yes.” You heard as you turned towards the stairs and saw tiny legs at the top of the stairs. You looked back at the boys as Maryjane was talking to the boys but she did notice that you looking towards the stairs. "Is everything ok?" Maryjane asked.

"Yeah, it's just... um..."

"Y/N’s our psychic medium." Colby said for them. You cleared your throat and Colby answered correctly. "Clairvoyant, sorry." He says looking at them.

"No problem, sweetie." You comment quietly. You don’t like being called Psychic, cause that just makes everybody look at you crazy, and you don’t like that.

"Ah." Maryjane realized and nod her head.

"Well, to catch everybody up to speed, could you kinda of give us the rundown of like why this place is haunted and kind of the history behind it." Sam said.

"Sure, I'd love to. The House was initially built in the mid-1800s, and back then a mom and her six year old little girl came bearing at the front door. Her daughter was having terrible stomach pains." Mary-Jane says and you heard like banging noises coming from upstairs, almost like footsteps running, you looked up at the ceiling as they slowly stopped and turned you attention to Maryjane. "The doctor lived here, they let him in and they said 'well, her appendicitis is going to burst.' They put her on the table Abe gave her some anesthesia and he started cutting on her stomach because she was in terrible, terrible pain." The boys groaned as you just cringed at the thought of it. "They didn’t wait long enough, they couldn’t because the herme's headaches had burst and they didn't wait enough she died on the operating table."

You then heard a girl cry you knew that Sallie was listening to the conversation and you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. "She was still awake and the last thing she saw was a man with a knife, a doctor."

"So that's why she hate men?" Sam questioned.

"Yes definitely, that’s what we think, because she hasn’t done one thing to women or any kids or nobody." Mary-Jane says then you almost doubled over in pain, she felt a pain in her stomach almost like someone stabbing her stomach.

"Whoa!" You gripped your stomach.

"What happened?" Colby asked, the camera was on them now.

"I was just hit with a pain in my stomach, like someone was stabbing me." They said and the boys were concerned but Maryjane was confused. "I'm an empathic psychic well I like to call myself a clairvoyant well I used to. I can feel a ghost's pain when something bad happened to them in their past life and Sallie just gave me that." You finished and the pain slowly went away. "I'm good, now. Sallie was listening to us and hearing the story makes her worried."

"Speaking of, a month ago, I was here with some friends and we were in the kitchen actually and suddenly we heard this..." Maryjane knocked the side table. "You know and he was running on top of the ceiling, this guy said, 'well what’s that noise?' Sallie upstairs running a round the hallway."

The guys exclaimed in shocked.

"We heard it again and she ran back to her room, Sallie has a favorite toy up there and hopefully tonight she'll let you guys play with it because it'll start talking." The boys gaped in shock making y/n chuckle at them.

"Wait, wait, wait you've witnessed this as well." Colby said.

"Yeah, actually, the people that was in here yesterday, um yeah." Maryjane slightly chuckled.

"Yesterday. Wow." You said also in disbelief.

"Yeah, and then like I’ll be standing up or something and also you just feel something go past you. You know feel it." Maryjane said and the boys got creeped out and to your naked eye and hearing, you heard footsteps running on the stairs and looked to see a girl with brown wavy curly short hair running down the stairs and walked towards your group.

"Sallie's coming." You said and the boys were quiet but freaking out inside. You saw Sallie walk right past you and Colby. "She was just walking right past me, I felt a breeze on my leg. Colby, did you feel that?" You asked.

"Yeah, it felt cold for a sec." Colby answered.

"That was Sallie, she's going to the kitchen." You said looking towards the back of the living area.

"Follow her." Colby said as the boys stood back as Y/N followed the girl to the kitchen.

"Sallie?" You walked towards the kitchen and watched Sallie. "Sallie, please don’t hide from me." But you saw Sallie go through the walls not before she giggled. You walked back to the boys and had a frown on her face.

Which Seth noticed. "What’s happened?" He asked.

You stood by Colby. "She giggled as she vanished right in front of me. I hate it when I'm trying to help and they don’t fucking answer me. I have a feeling she's probably be a slight problem for us tonight." You said, crossing your arms as Colby touched your arm smiling at you since you respond back with.

"You guys may a change of getting activity tonight." Maryjane said.

"Why?" Nate asked.

"You have someone that can see her and Sallie is probably going to respond to you tonight because of them." Maeyjane says pointing to Y/n.

"Yeah, the Pickmans were around in the 1990s correct?" Colby asked. "That’s pretty recent.

"Yeah, 1993, they lived here with their family, things was always happening around the house and things would fall off the windows or the doors and the windows are open and the blinds are shut and the lights were dim that was the main thing." Mary Jane goes on but you were focusing on something else.

"Ask her about falling down the stairs.” You heard in your ear but didn’t feel or see a presence around you.

"Did you someone fall down the stairs?" You asked and you didn’t notice the boys looked shocked, they didn’t tell you one thing about what happens in places. They only tell you about where you were going.

"Yeah, Mr. Pickman did. He was going up the stairs and he was at the master bedroom as all the sudden the force was pushed him down the stairs just shoved him."

"Something pushed him." Colby said.

"He would get you know the scratches on his back." Maryjane said.

"Sallie was a six year old girl, right?

"She was six years old." Maryjane nods.

"But there’s no documentation of her actual existence, this is just kind of legend, right." Colby said.

"A legend, yeah. Another thing to is like right you guys are on the couch." She gestured to the the couch that Nate, Sam and Seth were sitting on. "Afghan behind you," The boys turned and saw a type of centerpiece. "A lot of times that um, people would have nice and folded like that over the thing and they go upstairs, and do whatever and come down it's all white in a ball sitting on the cushions or on the floor."

The boys and you thought that was interesting. "Almost like a kid was playing with it." Nate said.

"Exactly, and back to Sallie, she loves playing with toys and you'll see that upstairs well say Sallie if you want to play, you know throw your ball down the stairs. They wouldn’t throw down the ball down the stairs but she'd look up there and there was a ball at the top of the stairs."

"I’ve aleo heard there's rumors of rumors of possibly a pentagram in the basement, is that right?" Sam asked.

"It's gone. We'd burned it." Maryjane said and Y/N was stunned, that’s not good to know.

"What do you mean?"

"It’s gone painted over it and it's all black."

"Is burned it like a ritual?" Nate asked.

"I think he just painted over it looked burnt, I don’t know what he did, do you wanna a hear a story that happened yesterday?" They all said yes. "The guy was here doing paranormal investigation and he was here before his team was here. He was coming in and this guy was leaving and it was a priest. He said he was sitting here in the living room and All the setting the basement door slams shut."

"Where's the basement door, just around here." Colby asked, turning around and pointing down the direction where Y/N went.

"Yeah, behind the kitchen. Then all the sudden he heard something else slammed a door upstairs. He kept heading noises and he'd walk through and I guess he hit a really bad vibe but everyone gets really good film here."

"Good sign for tonight." Sam said.

"She likes music and I don’t know why it's not on now nine times out of ten the owner of the house would leave the music on cause Sallie like the music, so I don’t know why it’s not on, but now during the night if she wants to listen to it'll come on." She said.

Boy, you were nervous more then ever.

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock imagine #sam and colby imagine #colby brock x reader #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach x reader #xplr club

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marauderverse · 3 months

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With Love// F.W x Reader pt.3

Summary: Y/n Dursley of number 4 Privet Drive hates her life. That was, of course, until the summer before grade 9, after an oddly charming redhead and his brothers helped her cousin escape. it was probably a good thing he forgot to return that key.

word count: 1.5k

Dear y/n,

It was nice to see you the other day; you’re looking even more beautiful than I remember. I wish I had been able to write to you earlier, but a lot has happened since. There was an attack at the Quidditch World Cup, but don’t worry, everyone is safe mum has been more overbearing since. She confiscated all our tongue-tonne toffee before we left, so we had to start again.

Anyway I know I've been saying this for almost a year, but I really hope we can catch up over the coming summer I’ll be of age so hopefully mum will let me go to London by myself, and even if she doesn’t, I’ll slip away to see you.

With love, Fred

Dear Fred,

I did see what happened. Since Harry told me what happened last year with Sirius, I’ve been getting the daily prophet delivered here, which until now I didn’t realise I could do until now. But I saw it and was halfway through writing a letter to Harry before your letter arrived. I do hope that the muggle family were alright afterwards. But I would love to meet up with you in London over the summer, anything to get away from these crazy people.

Make sure Harry writes back to me as well. I think he’s been ignoring my letters lately.

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

George and I have been playing with a new prank idea. Basically, it's a custard creme that turns into a giant bird when someone eats it. We aren't entirely sure how we will do it, but what do you think?

Anyway, we are going back to Hogwarts soon, and Bill, Charlie, Percy and Dad have been acting really weird lately, they keep dropping hints about something that’s going to happen at Hogwarts this year, but they aren’t allowed to say. I think that's bullshit, they just like tormenting us.

Anyway, all is fine here, I hope to hear from you soon.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

Sorry for not getting back sooner, I’ve been doing a lot of back-to-school preparation, that and all the summer work I’ve been neglecting to do until now. But good luck with school tomorrow, I hope you have a good year, I know I won’t. And send me a letter as soon as you find out what’s happening at Hogwarts this year that sounds very exciting.

I have to get all my information from you now because Harry won’t tell me anything anymore.

Don’t get into too much trouble.

With Love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

You’re never going to believe what’s happening this year at Hogwarts.

The Triwizard tournament.

I know you don’t know what that means, but I guess it would be comparable to the Olympics. But they stopped doing it for a long long time because it was super dangerous and stuff, but they are bringing it back and Hogwarts is hosting this year. And we are having students from the french and bulgarian wizarding schools.

Anyway, they aren’t coming for a few more weeks now.

I wish you were a witch i could see you more.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

You’re right, I have no idea what it means. But how do you know about the olympics? Anyway, I wish my school was as exciting as that. The only thing that's happened so far is Jenny and Ella got into a huge fight over some guy they were both seeing. It was pretty brutal. I think one of them lost a tooth.

It's dull here, since Harry left Dudley has taken to tormenting me instead, he brings his friends around sometimes and they creep me out.

Anyway, are you thinking of entering the tournament? Are you even allowed to?

With love, y/n

Dear y/n

I know about the Olympics because I take a muggle studies class which is exactly what it sounds like. We learn a whole heap here, Percy told me it would be a cop out when I put my name down to do it but you know what I think about Percy and his opinions. It’s actually a lot of fun, I’ve learned quite a bit and it was one of the three subjects I got an O.W.L in (which I think might be similar to your GCSEs?)

Anyway yes I am thinking about entering and so if George it sounds amazing and there’s a 1000 galleon prize for the winner and we’ve decided if we win it’s going straight to our joke shop. And if we get the money there will be no need for us to go back next year.

I know mum won’t be pleased about that at all, but she’ll have to accept it.

The students from the other schools are. coming soon and I’m excited to see what they’re like.

With love, Fred

Dear Y/n,

I haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything okay? George says I’ve been sulking but i haven’t. There’s not much to report on my end. But i hope to hear from you soon.

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

I’m sorry it’s been so long. Dudley had his creepy little friends over a few weeks ago and one of them was creeping into my room I accidentally on purpose pushed him down the steps and he may or may not have fractured a wrist or two. And I’ve been grounded for a month.

I hope you have a good Halloween, Harry told me you guys go all out. I’m so jealous I wish we didn’t have to do Dudley’s stupid diet, I'm withing away to nothing here.

Anyway, were you and George able to get into the tournament?

I’m sorry this letter isn’t very substantial but nothing has been happening here.

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

No, George and I weren’t able to enter we arent’t old enough. That prat Diggory is the hogwarts champion, you know the one i was telling you about last year?

Something strange happened tho, Harry’s name was drawn as well and no one knows how, you know since he isn’t of age and stuff.

But all us in Gryffindor are so excited, i know he’s gonna crush diggory.

I can’t wait for the summer, i really want to see your beautiful face again.

With Love, Fred

Dear Fred,

How did Harry’s name get drawn? You old me the tournament is really dangerouse is there nothing anyone can do? Is that even legal?

Can you get Harry to write me a letter please, guilt trip him or something but i hate that i had to find this out from you. Please keep me updated on him i don’t know why he won’t write back.

But I also can’t wait to see you again.

With Love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

You should have seen Harry today, I know you’ve been stressed about him but like I said he’s just too good.

He had to get past a dragon and everyone else did really boring stuff but Harry flew! He summoned his broom and flew past the dragons it was amazing.

Anyway, we’re having a ball soon and I’m supposed to ask a girl to go with me but I wish I could take you. I think I’ll end up taking my friend Angelina though.

With love, Fred

Dear Fred,

Merry Christmas!

Sorry, this letter is a few days late I got grounded again and school is getting a bit crazy. I hope it’s not weird that I’m sending you something. But as an explanation, those are a few records of my favourite muggle artists. Harry told me that modern electronics don't work because of the magical interference but he said that there was an old record player in Gryffindor Tower and it worked so hopefully they work.

You can ask him to show you how to use them, I taught him how to use Dad's one when he was younger so he should remember.

Also was that your mother who sent me the sweater? It didn’t come with a note but Harry has a few that look similar and he said they were from her.

Anyway, I hope the ball was fun, we have dances at our school but I've never been to one.

With love, Y/n

Dear Y/n,

Thank you so much for the gifts they’re brilliant.

We’ve actually learnt how to use electronics in muggle studies. The record player still worked and i listened to all the records. I really enjoyed the band nirvana and queen.

The ball was kind of boring if im being honest, i think it would have been more fun if you were there.

Harrys second task is coming closer as well and im excited to see what he does for that one.

Also yes it was my mum who sent you that sweater, now you're apart of the family officially. I think she said she made ours the same colour so we can match now.

With Love, Fred

tagged: @aki-ham @ashdoctor @

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #fred weasly x reader

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sinner-sunflower · 2 months

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A HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Thanks to your support, I am so committed to this. When I finish this, I plan to make it into a long, proper, one-shot- better format and everything!

I've been doing these chapters in the middle of work lmao, so if you see a typo or some edits, it's me rereading it after work.

I'm trying to include more Alastor but he's pretty hard to write.

I used Velvette so much here cos I love her as that bitch you love to hate. She is obviously the spokesperson of the Vees

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

The hotel lobby is filled with unbearable silence as hell's overlords and high members of the Ars Goetia arrive one by one.

Just a few hours ago, Alastor heard from Carmila Carmine that the king had called a meeting for the top ruling people of hell. Charlie doesn't know why her dad called for it in the hotel.

The Ars Goetia (minus Stolas) were whispering among themselves and shooting the sinner overlords dirty looks every now and again. The overlords were good at pretending they couldn't hear anything. Apparently, they at least have the sense to know that that would be a fight they cannot win.

The hotel's residents collectively claimed it as their spot. Husk is talking with Angel quietly, keeping him distracted and out of view of Valentino, Vaggie is holding her spear as she keeps a close eye on the strangers in their home, Nifty is obsessively cleaning a corner of the bar (Husk keeps telling her that it is still dirty just so she won't venture elsewhere), and Cherri is playing with an unlit bomb in her hand.

Rosie and Stolas decided to approach Charlie and Alastor at the bar at the same time, both slightly bowed to her.

Charlie: Prince Stolas. Rosie.

Stolas: Hello, princess.

Charlie: How's Octavia?

Stolas: Via misses your outings together. But she is fine. She's with her mother today.

Rosie: Not that I'm not happy to see ya, Alastor. But why exactly are we here? Our Carmila has not stated a reason why.

Alastor: You know as much as me, my dear.

Stolas: It must be dire. His majesty rarely calls for the Goetia's presence. He is not here yet?

Charlie: No. He went down in Sloth earlier. I'm worried. After what happened yesterday, I..

Rosie: Yesterday? Did something happen, sweetie?

Charlie realizes the slip up and backtracks.

Charlie: Nothing, Rosie!

Rosie gives her a look that tells her they're going to be talking about it later. She gives the overlord a weak thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Velvette decides enough is enough and they have wasted too much time waiting.

Velvette: Ugh! Vois, let's go. This is a fuckin' joke.

Carmila: Velvette, calm yourself.

Valentino: Why should she? I had very important shit to shoot today and me being here is making me lose money.

Alastor: Then perhaps you should step down. Having to attend the bare minimum duty of their title must be so difficult for someone so... undeserving.

The Radio Demon has a giant patronizing grin plastered on his face. Alastor's comment prompted Vox to speak up.

Vox: Oh, you timely piece of shit! Fight us right now, Alastor!

Alastor: How unbecoming. Throwing tantrums in front of royalty!

Velvette: I for one, don't want to sit here waiting for a no-show fossil

Charlie's demon side flares as the demon insults her dad.

Charlie: How fucking dare you?!

Random Goetia: You shall know better than to disrespect your king, insolent pest.

Velvette: Ha! You think we're scared of a bunch of birds?

Alastor: Should have known you three cannot behave for a simple meeting haha!

Soon everyone was yelling obscenities at each other, filling the hotel with chaos. Before a proper fight could break out, the door opens with a bang, silencing every demon.

Lucifer has arrived, following him were the other Sins. They were arguing amongst themselves from behind him. Charlie can only catch glimpses of what is being said as voices overlap each other.

Beelzebub: Bel-

Mammon: Are you fuckin-

Satan: Wrath is-

Leviathan: We cannot-

Asmodeus: Evacuation-

Belphegor: Grown another mile-

Lucifer says nothing the entire time and just takes a seat in the middle of the semi-circle table he conjured up. With the way the table was placed in front of everyone else, Charlie gets the feeling of deja vu of her hearing in heaven. But now her dad will be the one passing judgment.

Most of the sinners in the room back up as the Sins continue to argue with their full form.

Lucifer sits back and raises a hand and the yelling stops.

Back then, she never really understood why demons were afraid of her dad. He was always a silly and happy guy when spending time with her. But one time, she sneaks into his rare meetings with the Sins and sees why he was called the devil.

The anger she saw then could have given her Uncle Satan a run for Uncle Mammon's money.

Lucifer: Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I will cut to the chase. I have called you all here because something is brewing at the very depths of hell. Something that may affect us all.

Stolas: The Ars Goetia is at your disposal, sire. But may I ask what is this about?

Belphegor: I can answer that. A few months ago, an anomaly appeared at the edge of Sloth. It was not a problem until-

She pressed her touchpad and a hologram screen appeared showing the infected ground.

Not a single demon didn't widen their eyes.

Angel: What the fuck is that?

Belphegor: We wouldn't have called you all here if it was not this severe.

She taps and shows a mutilated demon pig.

Belphegor: This is Patient Zero. An animal on a nearby farm made contact with the anomaly. It instantly infected the whole body, controlling the creature whilst killing it slowly. If it can affect an animal like this, we fear what it may do to-

Velvette: And what do you expect us to do about it exactly? Why the fuck would we care about some old place we can't even go to.

Belphegor is briefly stunned by the interruption but ignores the sinner's disrespect.

Belphegor: Because you would have to be naive to think that it will stop in Sloth. We cannot be too careful.

Velvette: So you think we would risk our lives? Yeah. No thanks. How do we even know that it will affect us? It's just a pig. The worst we can get is horrible floor decor.

Lucifer stands up and moves silently towards the middle for everyone to see.

Lucifer: Free will does not mean you are free from consequences.

The king starts to remove his shirt to everyone's panic, except Belphegor.

Mammon: Woah woah, mate. The fuck ya doin?

Lucifer shrugs off the last piece of clothing to reveal the glowing, infected marks. It has not been a day since he touched it but the veins are already covering the entire right half of his torso.

Charlie: Dad!

The princess attempts to go to her father's side but Vaggie holds her back.

Lucifer: Shall we proceed without any more interruptions?

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

What to look forward to in Part 5:

the rest of the meeting

more dialogue from the other Sins. Cannot decide what personality to give to Leviathan.

My HC for Satan is he's like one of those old butler types but has a jacked body (I know he has that workout app, but I'm leaning more of the liver king type of a gentle strongman with anger issues. I don't want him to be a fuckboy gymbro)

more badass lucifer

the Vees getting scolded like the children they are

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missmaywemeetagain · 26 days

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Broken Glass Chapter 10 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Ahhhh, my babies, we've finally reached the chapter I've been itching to tell you about for ages! And I cannot WAIT to hear what you think about it!

We left off in Chapter 9 with poor Lori fighting physical exhaustion and a gamut of feelings for Elvis (who's being a stubborn idiot), and when they arrived home to Graceland, their frustrations came to a head. Elvis finally confronted her about her past and a terrified Lori didn't take it well.

Now in Elvis' perspective, we pick up immediately after her collapse. He is mortified and lovesick and convinced that he's harmed her beyond repair. Oh, Elvis. 💔

Like I said, I can't wait to hear your screams about the twists in this chapter, so please don't hold back! 😁 I hope you enjoy!

Much Love! xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: Please scroll to the end only if you need them--I don't want to spoil anything for those who hate spoilers!

Broken Glass Chapter 10

Shit shit shit shit, Elvis chants in his head as you vomit violently onto the pavement, go grey as a ghost, and your terrified eyes roll back into your head. His lean arms wrap around you quickly when you collapse, keeping you from falling into your own sick or hitting your head on the ground.

“Shit,” he curses, out loud this time, following your center of gravity and scooping you up into his arms. “Lori! Come on, darlin’, wake up f’me,” he pleads softly.

Your body seems awfully tiny and much too light for someone who’s presence he can never truly ignore, even when he wants to. His heart slams in his chest, his blood already up from his temper, though it fizzled out the moment you started shivering and sobbing and apologizing like he was sending you to the gallows. The look of resigned fear on your face was enough to give him nightmares and that was before you’d lost consciousness.

He is no stranger to fainting women, it being a staple of his fame since almost the beginning. While he never could quite understand why he of all people caused such a reaction in young ladies, he was always as calm and gentle as he could be. It was his fault they got overexcited, after all—they couldn’t control it just as much as he couldn’t.

But this was different.

You certainly hadn’t passed out because you were overcome by the joy of his presence. Instead, you look like death, and he’s not remotely calm about it.

“What the hell happened? What’d you do to her?” Gene asks accusatorily, running up behind him, followed by the rest of the guys in various states of concern.

“What’d I do…? Shut yer damn mouth ‘fore ya catch flies, ya idiot, and go call the doctor,” Elvis huffs back, hoisting you up into his arms, swinging around, and hightailing it towards the house.

The fear that lances through him at your pallor and lifelessness hits like a knife. The seed of anger he’s held on to so tightly this last week withers at the thought he’s done real damage here.

This is my fault.

He’s not exactly sure how but he knows. He only had to take one look at your face when he called you out to understand you hadn’t meant to hurt him and your past scared you enough to risk the lie. Stupidly, he’d wanted the satisfaction of confronting your wrongdoing, for you to have a smidge of the hurt he was feeling.

But he never wanted this.

How could he have missed something was wrong? You are so damn strong, meeting every challenge thrown your way that he never considered you might be unwell. Selfish idiot, he chastises himself.

He comes close to kicking down the door to his home, but Charlie scoots around him fast enough to open it before he resorts to property damage.

“Come on, Little Bird, wake up for me,” he murmurs softly as he oh so gently sets you on the long sofa. He hates the boneless way you settle, eyes closed and completely unconscious. Nerves shudder down his spine and he doesn’t bother to hide them.

“Did someone call the damn doctor?” he yells at Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s on his way.” Charlie has the sense to look worried, unlike his idiot cousin who peers over his shoulder.

“Wipe that dumbass look offa your face and go get her some water!” Elvis snaps at Gene, who looks at him wide eyed for a moment before disappearing.

Brushing a lock of hair off your forehead, he holds and rubs your cold little hand in his as he quietly talks to you.

“I’m sorry, Lo, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve come atchu like that. I-I realize now that, um, maybe you had your reasons f’not telling me ‘bout your past. I jus’ thought you knew you could trust me, and-and it hurt that you din’t and sometimes I just get so mad I can’t see straight but I shouldn’t take it out on you…” he rambles quietly, “Please jus’ wake up, now, you gotta wake up, honey. I can’t do this without ya.” The admission falls breathlessly from his lips, soft as snowfall.

His heart plummets when he thinks about all the ways he’s taken his anger out on you this past week—ignoring you, throwing girls in your face, making snide comments—and his ego wants nothing more to justify his actions, but in truth, you were right. He had been playing mind games and not communicating why he was upset. He should have just asked you about it right after Frank spilled the beans instead of punishing you for something you didn’t even know he’d found out.

Lord, his mama would have his hide for such childish behavior.

Shame flames his cheeks and worries surround him like a dark cloud until the doctor shows up. You still haven’t so much as stirred and it has him nibbling at his nails—a nervous old habit he’s never quite been able to kick.

When Dr. Shaw arrives, Elvis shoos away the audience of men who’ve crowded the living room when he wasn’t looking. At least they all have the sense to look concerned.

“What happened?” Dr. Shaw asks, setting his bag down next to the couch.

“I-I-I don’t know exactly, one minute she was fine, well maybe not fine cuz we were in a bit of a disagreement, ya see, and well, she, maybe she was worked up? One minute she was standing there and the next she lost her lunch on the pavement and passed out,” he says, unsure if he’s making any sense.

“Did she hit her head?” The doctor asks, examining your hairline.

“Naw, I caught her before she hit the ground.” His leg jiggles uncontrollably, wondering if you’re okay, wondering what he could’ve done differently.

Dr. Shaw looks at Elvis over his glasses, taking in his nervousness. “Has she been ill otherwise?”

Elvis blinks. “Um, I-I-I’m not sure.”

The doctor is one of the only people who knows about his illness, who you really are and what you are doing here, so it’s unsurprising he looks a bit incredulous. “Elvis, you’re spending all of your time with this young woman, and you don’t know if she’s been ill or not?”

More shame bleeds through his chest and settles like a stone in his stomach. His face flushes red hot and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up without him noticing.

“Um, no, I-I guess not, sir,” he mumbles.

He knows his faults, and generally being uncaring isn’t one of them. But these past few weeks, he’s been thinking mostly about himself. His feelings. How your secret affected him. Not how it affected you, or why you might need to hide it. You’d tried your best to take care of him, apparently to the detriment of yourself.

No, he’d been mighty careless with you, and spitefully so.

Dr. Shaw gives him a pursed-lip look.

“I, well, now I know the new hours are keepin’ her busy, what with how I gotta live and all. I-I-I guess she’s seemed tired?” Elvis adds, desperate to fill the silence.

He doesn’t feel he can share all the other pieces, like how you’d been on the run from your mafia fiancé who’d…

Oh, Lord.

Dread rolls in his stomach when he realizes his misstep.

The nightmares. You quivering in terror on the bathroom floor. The bruises. Bruises he’d seen staining your body in places no bruise should ever be. The way you’d flinched when he touched you roughly.

Your fiancé had done that to you. That man was the reason you fled New York.

How stupid he was for not putting it all together sooner. Your fiancé hurt you, and you tried to escape the only way you could.

And Elvis was so afraid of loving you, so consumed by his own feelings, he punished you for it. Just another man in your life punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Fuck.

His gut rolls, leaving him queasy. Through his horror, he wonders if you’ll ever be able to forgive him. If you even should.

Your little moan steals his attention as you stir slightly on the sofa.

“Lori?” he asks, jumping to, wanting you so badly to wake up so he can apologize, so he can make it up to you. “Please, baby, you gotta wake up now. The doc is here.” He grabs your hand and doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

“Mmm?” Your eyes flutter open and his heart swells to see those crystal blues start to focus.

“What happened?” you moan quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“You, uh, you got sick, darlin’ and then fainted,” he coos but there is an edge of disappointment in it, in himself.

Your eyes narrow and then widen with what he assumes is your memory coming back. He watches the trepidation and embarrassment fill your eyes. You slide your hand out of his, shirking back from him, and his heart crumbles a little.

I did this.

“Dolores, can you tell me what happened? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

Your attention pulls away from Elvis, your trepidation clouded by your struggle to focus.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, probably just carsick from the bus ride,” you say, voice wavering, unconvincingly trying to blow off the concern.

“You’re not fuckin’ fine,” Elvis snaps before he can stop himself.

Your eyes widen and Dr. Shaw clears his throat.

“Excuse my language,” he apologizes, then tries to continue more gently, “but you’re not. You’re always gettin’ on me about not tellin’ you what’s what, so now you better answer the doctor’s questions truthfully, honey.”

There’s a beaten, submissive look in your eye that nearly breaks his heart. You turn your attention back to Shaw.

“I’ve had an ongoing headache for days…weeks, maybe? And I am exhausted,” you admit quietly. “Carsick on the rides. It’s probably just a virus. Nothing a l-little rest won’t cure.”

Dr. Shaw purses his lips. “I’d still like to do an examination and some tests. Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

“Upstairs.” Elvis jumps up, eager to be helpful and expend some of the nervous energy coursing through him. He extends his hand to help you off the couch, but you shrink back from him. Stomach churning with guilt, he watches as you warily push yourself off the couch to standing.

You wobble and sway on your feet, and his instinct kicks in as he immediately swoops his arm under you and lifts.

“Elvis, stop, I can get up the stairs by myself,” you protest halfheartedly, but by the way your body sags against him, he doesn’t believe you.

“Hush.”

Scowling, you don’t fight anymore, your eyes getting a dim and faraway look when your head plops on his shoulder with defeat. It’s worrisome.

By the time he maneuvers you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his growing unease has taken root. And it grows more when he sets you on the bed and you look like a shadow of your usual self. Like darkness is trying to swallow you whole and you are letting it.

He looks at Shaw, his eyes trying to convey the deep concern he now feels for your wellbeing, the concern that should’ve been there for weeks if not for his head being wedged so far up his own ass he refused to see what was right in front of him.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Shaw says, “Now, I’ll need some privacy to do the examination.” The doctor nods his head towards the door, dismissing him.

“Aw, hell no. I’m not leavin’ her like this.” He shakes his head stubbornly. The thought of her alone with any man but him suddenly makes his skin crawl, even though he’s known Shaw for years.

“Elvis, I’ve got her. Go. I’ll be down to update you in a bit.” Shaw’s voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for question.

Elvis clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring.

Breathe. In, out.

It’s your voice saying it. He looks to you, sitting stock still against the pillows, staring into space, and realizes your voice is only in his head. It’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.

Finally, he nods curtly, then leaves his—our—room, shutting the door quietly behind him, resisting the urge to leave it open just a crack in order to listen in, to make sure no harm comes to you. But even in his current state, he knows that is overstepping. He forces himself to walk down the stairs, his mind churning.

After pacing the length of the house multiple times, beating himself up for his poor treatment of you, furious at your former fiancé for hurting you, and tying himself into knots with worst-case scenarios, he eventually finds himself at the piano. The only thing that ever truly quiets his mind is music. His fingers fly over the keys and he pours it all into the spirituals coming to him from deep within his soul.

God loves him best when he sings. Maybe He’ll hear his pleas for forgiveness, his prayers for healing—not for himself, but for you.

Lost in the music, he’s not sure how long he sings, but stops abruptly when Dr. Shaw appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doc says.

Elvis waves his arm dismissively. “How is she?”

Shaw hesitates. “It could just be a virus, but I took some blood and urine to test.”

There’s something he’s not saying, Elvis can tell. “And?”

Another pause. “I’m a little concerned about her…state of mind. I know I’ve only met her once or twice, but she seems withdrawn, almost traumatized. You said there was an argument?” He looks at Elvis with an undercurrent of judgement.

Heat blazes across Elvis’ cheeks, while guilt stabs in his belly. “I-I-I…yes, sir, but I’d never hurt her! And I-I don’t think…I-I mean, I don’t know…I think something happened t’her before we met,” he eventually gets out. It’s not his place to share your secrets, but damn if he’s going to let this doctor think he’s hurt you physically.

Dr. Shaw’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t press. He looks over Elvis with pursed lips and a watchful eye before his gaze softens.

“Can I go up and see her?” Elvis asks, almost desperately.

Shaw nods. “But she needs to rest. Stay off her feet. Eat well, if she can, and drink plenty of fluids.” Not run around after your ass, is the unspoken instruction. “Make sure she’s doing those things but…I wouldn’t press her.”

“Yessir.”

There’s tension hanging in the air before the subject is changed. “How are you feeling? Do we to have someone else step in until Ms. Cannava is well?”

Elvis grimaces, shaking his head. The last thing he needs is someone else poking around in his business, in your business. “I’m alright, sir. Probably could use a little R & R myself.”

Shaw looks at him with a critical eye. “Alright, son. Let’s keep it low-key, shall we? I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

And with that, Elvis sees the doctor out.

He lasts approximately 90 seconds before he runs to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and takes the stairs quickly enough that he spills half the glass before he makes it to his room.

“Knock, knock,” he says gently, opening the door. You are laying on your side now, away from him, curled in on yourself on top of the covers and the sight nearly does him in for how vulnerable you look.

“Doc said you need plenty of fluids, so I brought you some water,” he rambles, coming around and setting the glass on the stand next to the bed. “Can I getchu anythin’ else?”

You blink slowly, but don’t respond otherwise. His stomach drops. It’s unnerving, the way you’re staring through him at the wall, vacant and broken.

He can’t have done this, right? Not like this. There’s got to be more to this than a silly fight.

You’re a fuckin’ asshole, the voice in his head berates. He wants to disagree but can’t. But this isn’t the time for him to feel sorry for himself. Standing here being useless isn’t helping anyone.

What would Little Bird do? The thought snaps him into action. “Imma gonna just take off these shoes a’ yours, okay?” he says gently, not wanting to startle you. With care, he takes off your heels one by one, setting them on the carpet at the end of the bed. He wants you to be comfortable but hesitates to undress you, unsure if that would be crossing a line. But he can’t well leave you to sleep in the clothes you wore on the bus for near a day.

After a minute of indecision, he plows forward. “Alright, honey, I’m just going to help you out of these clothes, just down to your slip, okay? Nothin’ more, don’t you worry.”

You don’t fight him at all, wordlessly allowing him to move you upright and undo your blouse. There’s certainly nothing untoward about the way his fingers manage the buttons or how they unzip your skirt. It’s not the way he ever wanted to be doing these things, though, he thinks as he strips your clothes and pulls down the spread on the bed. You have no outward reaction to him lying you down and pulling the covers up over your body, other than letting your eyes fall closed.

He thinks back to the care you’ve shown him when he’s been such in a state, and it’s what gets him through the feeling of helplessness churning in his gut.

Once you are tucked in, he grabs his own pajamas. He’s got no urge to leave you or deal with the idiots downstairs. No, even though his mind is going, he joins you in the bed, attempting to read the book on his nightstand while worry nags at him. Eventually, his eyes droop closed and the darkness takes him, too.

You are a bit more responsive the next day, eating a bite of the toast and jam he’d brought up for you, but you stay in bed, eerily quiet and entirely too withdrawn for his liking. He does his damnedest to follow Dr. Shaw’s instructions and leave you be, but it’s nearly impossible for him to not check on you multiple times an hour.

Honestly, he’s not sure you even register his presence half the time and fuck if that doesn’t stab him straight through the heart.

Charlie and the other boys do their best to distract him, but he’s got no humor for the usual fun and games. No, he’s much too wrapped up in his own head, vacillating from wanting to punch his way through the wall and being so lovesick he feels nauseous. The only thing keeping him from totally spiraling is the fact you are still here and alive and in his bed. He hasn’t lost you yet, he doesn’t think.

He can’t lose you.

By the time Dr. Shaw arrives in the evening, Elvis is about ready to jump down his throat with questions. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Let’s go upstairs, son,” Dr. Shaw says, in a somewhat ominous tone. If the doc wants him there for the conversation, the news can’t be good.

Elvis’ heart knocks against his ribs with each step closer he gets to you. You can’t be sick. He’s only just found you and Lord, does he need you more than he needs air. If he’s learned nothing else, it’s that.

Fidgeting, he lets the doctor in the room, following close behind.

“How are you feeling today, Lori?” Dr. Shaw asks, sitting near you on the edge of the bed.

Your usually bright and savvy eyes seem dull as you take the effort to focus on the doctor and his question. “I’m tired,” you whisper sluggishly, shrugging.

“Well, I think we have an answer as to the reason for that,” Shaw says kindly, then motions to him. “Elvis, why don’t you sit?” He gets up from the bed, offering Elvis his spot.

Oh, God, it’s that bad. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance, but he swallows the bile down, sinking onto the bed near your legs.

Dr. Shaw clears his throat. “Ahem, well, Lori, the good news is I don’t think you are sick in the real sense of the word.”

A wave of elation hits Elvis. Thank you, Jesus.

“You are, however, pregnant.”

The crest hits, disbelief slamming into him, taking his breath away in a whoosh.

“How’s that possible?” It falls out of his mouth immediately and without thinking, imbued with much too much innocence after his jaw hits the floor.

A deeply biological sense of panic washes over him then because it is most unmarried men’s nightmare, especially a man like him, to be blindsided by news like this. But his biology and his brain aren’t on the same level because it takes him longer than it should to reconcile there is absolutely no way this child is his.

This isn’t technically his mess.

But the doctor doesn’t know that and peers over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow. “I trust I don’t have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees, Elvis.”

A flush of heat hits his cheeks and he shakes his head. “No, sir.”

All at once, the gravity of the situation sinks in. The bruises. Your fiancé. That fuckin’ monster. The slightly judgmental way Shaw is looking at Elvis because in the doc’s mind, Elvis is the one who got you in trouble.

Shit.

Finally, his head turns to you. Your olive skin is deathly pale, your icy eyes more intense than usual and shining with unshed tears as you stare straight ahead. Your fingers twist around and around themselves, something he’s noticed you do when you are nervous.

Elvis lightly places his hand on your shin and your eyes whip to his for the first time in over a day. At least you don’t flinch at his touch this time. Instead, his touch seems to ground you and he watches carefully as you come back into yourself and out of wherever your head has held you prisoner since he yelled at you yesterday.

Dr. Shaw looks at the both of you before continuing. “It’s very early days, my guess is—”

“Four weeks,” you finish, the pain of knowing exactly how long etched in your features. It makes his heart ache for you, and more than anything he wants to find the man who did this to you and make him regret he was ever born. But now isn’t the time for all that.

Four weeks is the same amount of time you’ve known each other, meaning this happened after he’d already met you.

How?

“Yes, and anything can happen in these early days, as you well know. I know this is a…delicate situation.” There is unspoken subtext in the doctor’s words, and while Elvis is piecing it out, you seem to understand immediately. The look you give him is heavy and filled with words you cannot say out loud yet. The silence sits heavy between you two.

The doctor takes his cue. “You two have a lot to talk about. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to do your exam and get you set up with what you’ll need going forward? Keep your activity light for now.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Shaw,” you whisper.

Elvis stares at you, trying to psychically glean what you are thinking, but your eyes have shuttered and his own thoughts are going a mile a minute. It’s hard to focus until after he sees the doctor to the door.

“Doc, this probably goes without saying, but we need to keep a lid on this,” Elvis says quietly. He’s too much in shock to understand all the ramifications just yet, but he knows this world is unkind to unmarried young ladies who find themselves in the family way, even if it wasn’t their fault.

He’s got to protect you.

“Of course, Elvis. The same discretion I apply to you will apply to her, don’t worry son,” the man says, patting his back in solidarity.

He ignores the concerned and curious looks from the guys in the living room as he takes the stairs two at a time, his anxiety rising the more he’s away from you.

Skidding through the door, he grinds to a halt when he sees the empty bed. Frantically, he looks around the room, finding you in the closet.

“Little Bird, what’re you doin’?” he says, watching in disbelief as you start pulling clothes and throwing them on the bed before dragging your suitcase, which had only been put away yesterday, back out into the room.

“I have to go,” you say, deliberately not looking at him as you rummage in the closet.

“Go?” he asks stupidly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know…maybe out West somewhere. Canada, maybe,” you mumble, as if this a normal conversation.

His pulse thunders in his head. “What…no, why do you think you’re goin’ anywhere in your condition?”

“I’m not an invalid, Elvis, I’m pregnant,” you scoff. “I’m—” your breath hitches for a moment, your shaking hand revealing your true feelings no matter how calm you are trying to appear. “This isn’t on you, and I know you were getting ready to let me go because I lied to you, which I’ve accepted, but I had no idea…I should’ve known. And I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

His mouth might be catching flies for how dumbfounded he feels as he tries to follow your rambling train of thought. You scurry into the bathroom and rustle around before returning with some of your things, which you dump haphazardly into the suitcase.

“I know you were getting ready to let me go…” circles round in his head a few times before it hits.

You’re running. And you seem to think it’s what he wants.

“Stop.” The command is low and firm.

You freeze in the closet for a moment before grabbing another armful of dresses, ones he bought you even though you insisted you didn’t need anything.

“Dolores, stop this right now and sit yer ass down, goddammit!” he raises his voice, pointing to the bed.

Finally halting, he watches a shudder run through you before you defeatedly sit on the very edge of the bed, your arms full of clothes. Refusing to look at him. He can’t tell if you are more afraid or ashamed, but either makes his heart crumble and the thought of you leaving has him wanting to break in two.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, desperately wanting to take your hands in his own but not wanting to overstep in your fragile state. He softens his voice like he’s going to sing a lullaby.

“Little Bird, I don’t want you to go. Why would you say that?” It comes out too pleadingly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You blink rapidly, once, twice, processing his words, the unemotional mask you are trying so hard to keep on your face cracking. “You…you were so angry I lied and have every right to be! I thought you’d want me gone as soon as you found someone new,” you whisper.

“Honey, no—”

“And now, as if Gianni hadn’t already done his worst, now I’m…I’m pregnant.” Your voice chokes and the façade finally collapses as sobs wrack your shoulders.

Elvis can’t stand it any longer, sinking onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You go stiff for a second, resisting, but he squeezes, and you relent, your head falling on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Every quiet sob coming from you breaks his heart a little. He still doesn’t know you like he wants to but knows without a doubt you didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. You don’t deserve to bear the consequences of an evil man’s actions.

Gianni.

That was the name you said. Rage simmers deep in his stomach, but now is not the time to plot that asshole’s demise, no matter how much he wants to. Right now, Elvis has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like leave him and run to Canada.

His shirt soaks with your tears. The damp sticks to his skin and should be uncomfortable yet it’s not. It’s proof you are here, with him, and he holds onto that.

“Breathe, baby. Just like you showed me—in, out, in, out,” he coos.

Sobs turn to sniffles. Your body shivers but fights for those slower breaths, your grip on him loosening as you seem to calm. He is lulled, too, his racing mind given reprieve for a moment, distracted by your presence in his arms.

Heavy silence fills the space.

“I have to go,” you whisper, sounding pragmatic and defeated, but calm. Peeling yourself from the cocoon of his arms, you stand abruptly.

He grabs you gently by the wrist, turning you back to him. “Din’t you hear me, lil’ one? I don’t want you to go. I-I’m sorry I been such an ass. I-I-I shoulda just asked ya what happened instead o-of punishing ya for somethin’ I din’t understand.” Desperation he’s unaccustomed to feeling leeches into his voice.

He looks up into your shining eyes, hating the warring resignation on your pretty features.

“Elvis…” you begin, stepping away, “you have every right to be angry but—"

“No, n-no…I mean, yeah, I was, but that doesn’t matter now. Please, Little Bird.”

You pause. “I need to leave.” You start putting things in your suitcase, much slower this time.

His heart cracks a little more with every beat. “No, Lori. You…listen, I-I-I’ll be a much better patient, I promise. I’ll stick to your diet and routine and all that shit.” He tries to make light but your face fixes in a determined scowl.

You just shake your head resolutely.

Finally, he grasps your hands. “Honey, ain’t you hearin’ me? I’m sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, an’ I don’t admit that very often cuz I’m a stubborn ol’ goat, but I’m sayin’ it now. I don’t want you to go. So, stop this nonsense and talk to me!”

Quiet tears streak down your cheeks and you try to blink them away as you look down at him.

“I hear you. But you don’t understand—you’re not thinking, Elvis. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go to save you,” you plead.

“What?” He can’t hide his confusion.

“I already put a target on your back. And if Gianni finds out I’m…he’s coming after me. Whether today or tomorrow or a year from now, I feel it in my bones, and I’ve put you right in the crossfire.”

“I can take care of myself,” he bristles.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. Once the press gets wind of this—” you motion to your belly “—it won’t be good for either of us. If I go now and disappear, you’ll have a chance.” Your sentence ends in a whisper.

He blinks once, twice, trying to absorb what you’re saying. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change his heart. It doesn’t change how much he…

“I need you,” he admits, staring right into your eyes, unwaveringly.

Your lip quivers. “I can’t.” You look away before speaking again. “I’m sure Colonel can find you someone else who can fulfill your needs.”

Fuck. He’s losing you; you are slipping right through his fingers. Frustration fills him with frantic desperation.

“You ain’t gettin’ it, Dolores. I don’t need some other nurse, I need you, goddammit!”

His voice is loud in the small space, echoing briefly before the sound gets sucked into the sound proofing.

“Elvis…” you whisper, eyes going wide with questions he can’t answer, not now.

“Listen—jus’ listen to me, okay? There’s gotta be somethin’, cuz I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you out there by yourself to get hurt by those goons. I’ll fend ‘em off myself.” His brain whirls, trying to see his way through the problem.

“No, Elvis, you don’t understand! This isn’t the movies! Gianni, my father, the famiglia—those ‘goons’—they are dangerous. Lethal. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if Frank knows I left, it means even if they can’t get to you physically, they can do worse to your reputation and your career—everything you’re working so hard to keep.”

Your face blanches and your entire body goes tense. “And if Gianni finds out I’m pregnant with his child, even you might not be safe from him. Oh, Madone, I should have never come here.” Green tinges your face and you bolt for the bathroom.

His heart races, slamming against his ribcage again and again. You paint a bleak picture, and your fear is contagious. But the fear of never seeing you again, of you being out there alone and in danger, strikes not only dread in his heart, but a protective fervor he’s never quite felt before.

An idea comes to him then in a flash, and the sound of your retching snaps him into action. Whether it’s terror or the baby, or both, it has you so in knots you are sick, and he can’t have that.

A few weeks ago, he may have been able to tell himself it’s because you are a good nurse, that he doesn’t want to train some new girl when you already know what you are doing, and that’s why he’s about to do something either wildly clever or wildly stupid. But he’d be lying.

He feels like he’s buzzing from the inside out with nerves, almost like the feeling he gets when doing a live show. It’s equally terrifying and exhilarating and addicting and maybe it’s God’s way of letting him know he’s on the right path.

Barely aware of how he got there, he’s in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and crouching down next to you by the toilet. Not how he ever imagined this would go, but here he is anyway, brushing the hair off your cheeks. He’s so far gone for you, the sick doesn’t even phase him as he wipes your face.

None of it phases him enough to let you go.

You don’t want to look at him, he can tell, but you finally do, your ice blue irises vibrant against your bloodshot eyes, looking defeated and scared and miserable. But still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“Marry me.”

He says it with a quiet confidence only he could muster, despite the pounding of his heart.

You blink in shock, straightening. “W-what?”

“Marry me.”

“Elvis, you can’t be—”

He holds up his hand, halting her reply. “And before you say no, hear me out.”

Your mouth snaps shut in bewilderment.

“Doc said it was early. So, if we get married real soon—love-at-first-sight and all that—it’s still plausible to those without details everything is on the up and up, right?”

Your eyes narrow a little as you work through it. “I…I suppose so, if all goes well.”

A thought comes to him suddenly, threatening to ruin his plan, but he has to say it or he won’t forgive himself for not giving you the out. “I shoulda asked…I-I mean…there are other ways to solve this, less legal ones, but I’d pay for it if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the circumstances,” he says almost bashfully.

It takes you a second to glean his meaning, your face going more ashen than it was already. “Oh. Oh, no. I…I’m Catholic. I don’t…that’s not an option for me.”

“Okay.” He nods, knowing he needs to continue, “T-There’s also adoption. I won’t force you to raise this baby, even if it looks bad for me…I-I-I would never do that to ya.”

Your eyes fill with tears again, a gamut of emotions running through them. “I don’t think I want that either,” you say quietly.

The weight of that settles between them for a moment before he clears his throat. “Alrighty. I hate to ask this, but you said ‘four weeks’ earlier…so did he hurt you after we met? How—how long were y’all together?” It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth to ask, but he needs to know in order to make this work.

Your eyes close painfully. When you open them, there is resolve there, covering your suffering. “We weren’t. Not really. Gianni set his sights on me a long time ago, and my father…well, Gianni’s family is powerful, and Pop knew a marriage between us would raise his status in the famiglia. My mother didn’t want it, but when she died…well, I had to help raise my brothers, and I was too young, anyway. Then, I escaped by going to nursing school and managed to avoid him for a while, but…,” you take a deep, shuddering breath to keep going. “…but the day after we met in the hospital, he cornered me after my shift. He, um, proposed, and I froze. I didn’t say yes, but I-I was paralyzed, and he took that as acceptance. Then he brought me home to an empty house and…stole what he thought was already his.”

Elvis squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles go white. He has never been a particularly violent man, not finding pleasure in it like some men. Even in his bouts of bad temper, his anger is usually taken out on inanimate objects rather than people, but right now the rage he feels at Gianni is downright murderous. He’d like to rip this man’s heart out of his chest for what he’s done to you.

He swallows the bitter pill of his rage, though, tempered by the anguish in your eyes. A single tear streaks down your cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Never again, Little Bird. As long as I have breath in my lungs, nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You suck in air sharply, then your body shudders on your exhale.

“You can’t promise that,” you whisper tearfully. “I can’t ask you to promise that.”

“Well, I am, and you know better than anybody I don’ take kindly to bein’ told what to do or not do, so you better save us all the trouble and jus’ accept it,” he says, and while there is humor in it, he’s never been more serious.

He fights every instinct in him that wants to kiss your lips, instead pressing his own to your forehead, wishing he could give you some semblance of peace. Pulling back before he does something stupid, he gently wipes your tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. You let him, and he supposes that’s enough for right now.

“Does anyone know what he did, besides me?” he asks, hating that he must.

“No, not unless Gianni told someone. I didn’t even tell anyone he’d proposed. I just went to work and then Colonel offered me this job and I realized it was my only chance to escape. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers in person. I’m so sorry I lied and put you in this position,” you say, voice cracking with emotion.

“You were jus’ tryin’ to survive, honey. No one can fault you for that. I’m glad you got away.” And he is, he thinks, as he smooths your hair. He nearly gets trapped in the blue of your mournful eyes before he snaps himself out of it. He’s got to focus.

“The timeline works out, then, darlin’. Even if people believe we did the deed before marriage, there’s no reason for them to think it’s anyone’s but mine. Gettin’ married cements it, ‘specially with this new, a-dult image Colonel is tryin’ to push of me.”

Colonel is gonna hate this.

“Colonel is never—” you start, seemingly on the same wavelength.

“I know, which means there’s gotta be no doubt in anyone’s mind this baby is mine.”

Your eyes go wide in understanding. You haven’t said yes yet, but he knows how logical and practical you are. He’s got to make you see this is the only way.

“Will Colonel believe it, though? He knows we—I—didn’t take to this arrangement so easily in the beginning.”

“We gotta make him. And I think you continue to underestimate my powers of seduction,” he jokes, wiggling his brow, trying to lighten the increasingly heavy mood.

You sigh. “Be serious, Elvis.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter what really happened, honey, it matters what people think happened. And I’m bein’ honest when I say it won’t take much for most to believe we fell in love and you fell into my arms. Or vice versa. My, um, reputation’s gonna work in our favor.” Heat flames his cheeks, which he knows is silly, but he plays it off with a smirk.

Your eyebrow quirks, but you leave it at that.

He rambles on, “And I don’t know this, um, family of yours, but I’m guessin’ even Gianni is gonna have a hard time provin’ anythin’ if you’re married to one of the most famous men in the world. I can’t imagine even the mob will try an’ steal ya out from under me, so to speak. Not with our ‘love story’ pasted across the world in black and white for all to see. It keeps you and the baby safe.”

You go quiet and still, and he can see the wheels in your head turning. “I…okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’re on to something,” you finally relent.

His heart jumps and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face from your almost-praise.

“But Elvis, this is too much to ask of you. This is your life. I know you had no plans to get married, at least anytime soon—”

“Plans change,” he throws back, quickly and a little too adamantly.

“Not like this.”

“Things changed the minute I got this diagnosis, honey,” he adds soberly.

You go quiet, as though with everything going on you forgot what you were doing here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” you apologize.

Elvis shrugs it off. But he doesn’t want your pity. No, he wants you safe, and he wants you to stay. And he’s man enough to admit this isn’t all for your benefit. He’s being selfish here, too, because, somehow, you’ve wrapped yourself around his heart and the idea of you ever leaving him fills him with despair.

You continue, “I hear what you’re saying, I do, but, Elvis, I’m afraid you’re not thinking this through entirely. You’re offering to raise another man’s child as your own, offering to marry someone who you don’t love…there’s no going back from that, especially when there’s a child involved.”

He swallows thickly, but not because he’s in doubt. Anything but. The image in his head of you smiling and laughing as he plays with the baby, of early morning whispers of love and sharing a bed in more than just name, of you helping fill the rooms of this damn mansion he bought for his mama with gorgeous blue-eyed children…it is so enticing and so close he can’t bear to think what might happen if you don’t say yes.

I love you.

And even if you can only give your trust in him to keep you safe and help raise your child and nothing else, he would still rather have you at his side and love you in secret than not have you at all.

God, how I love you.

If he let the words fall out of his mouth right now, would you agree, or would they send you running?

He can’t chance it. Not with the state you’re in now. So he steels himself instead, using the charm God gave him to get you to understand.

“Honey, I know what you’re sayin’, and it don’t change a thing.”

Those eyes of yours go wide, and he can tell there’s something you’re debating on sharing. A few moments pass while he lets you deliberate.

“Elvis, you need to know before…,” you trail off. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “This is it for me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but with my beliefs, even in this insane situation, this wouldn’t be temporary. Gianni, my father…it’s possible they’ll never stop trying to get to me. And in my world, marriage is forever. Divorce is not an option. I…I can’t bear to think I’m the one ever keeping you from true happiness, from a love and children of your own. Instead, you’re getting a sullied wife who shackled you in a moment of need and who you’ll come to regret. I can’t have you regret me, Elvis.” Tears pool in your eyes and if he wasn’t already on his knees, he thinks this would have brought him there.

This is a tipping point, just like the moment the doctor handed him his diagnosis. Nothing will be the same after today, for either of you. God has a plan, he’d thought when you’d shown back up in his hospital room at just the right moment, and it hits him now—he swears on his dear mama—it was all leading to this.

“There’s no me without you anymore, darlin’. Who else is gonna take care of me? Who else can I trust with my life? I’m helping you and your baby, yes, but you’re keeping me alive, too. And you aren’t ‘sullied’,” he says with more conviction than he’s said anything before, his voice trembling with all the words he cannot say to you yet. He can only pray you see him, too.

The welling tears in your eyes overflow once more, and it cuts him to not know what you’re thinking, to think he’s the one making you cry this time.

“Don’t be sad, honey, please,” he whispers, begs. “I can’t bear to make you cry.” Unable to stop himself, he brushes your cheeks with his fingers, cupping one in his hand.

The way you lean into him is so slight he might be imagining it, but it’s enough to give him an ounce of hope, one he latches onto immediately.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, not about you anyway. I’m crying because I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. You hardly know me,” you weep.

“I know enough.” And I’d do anything for you.

You close your eyes, dark lashes clumped with tears fanning across your cheeks. “Can you…can you give me a minute?” you say, not unkindly.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, o-of course,” he stutters, his heart fluttering nervously as he stands. Holding out his hand, he helps you up off the floor, making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go. “I-I’ll be in there, when you’re ready.”

The door to the bathroom shuts behind him and he hears the faucet running. Waiting has never been his strong suit, which he’s brutally reminded of as the minutes tick by. He tries to sit on the bed, but he can’t keep still and jumps up immediately, running a hand through his hair while pacing the room.

But as much as he should be doubting his decisions, he’s not. He should be questioning his damn sanity, proposing to you like that—a woman he’s known all of a month who comes with more baggage than an airliner—but honestly, he’s never felt so sure of something in his life.

Sure, Elvis from five weeks ago may have sent him to the looney bin for offering to marry a girl and raise another (apparently very dangerous) man’s child, but that Elvis hadn’t been handed a death sentence and a ticking clock. That Elvis didn’t know his Little Bird.

That Elvis didn’t love her.

Hell, he’s much more worried you’ll leave out of some hairbrained thought he’s better off without you and get caught by Gianni, who he’s absolutely certain will hurt you in ways you never thought possible if he catches you.

No, Elvis isn’t scared you’ll say yes—he’s terrified you won’t.

He can’t begin to think of the despair he’ll feel if you disappear. Selfishly, he’s not sure he can stand to take another heartbreak, not now. It would be a cruel joke for God to put you in his life and then rip you away just when he needs you the most.

It makes him think of his mama and the gaping wound of her loss that’s only begun to heal. All Mama ever wanted for him was to be settled and happy, with a good woman by his side. He hadn’t understood why at the time. He’d wanted to focus on his career, to be free, to enjoy his youth and all the perks of his fame. But God humbled him right quick, first by sending him off to the Army, then by taking his mama. Since then, he’d spent too much time falling into the arms of woman after woman both drowning his sorrows and in the hopes he’d find the one to magically fill the void left in his heart.

Yet all of it led a path straight to you. And there’s something serendipitous about it he can’t ignore, no matter how batty it all might seem.

So, he best convince you to stay.

After what seems like an eternity, the bathroom door swings open. Your color is still drawn and sallow, the dark circles under your deep-set eyes more pronounced than usual, but you are hauntingly beautiful. Silent, you glide your way towards him slowly, your face shuttered in that way of yours, giving nothing away. His blood thunders in his ears and he hopes you cannot hear it.

You stop before him, mere inches away. Anticipation itches under his skin as his pulse ratchets up. He jumps when you place your palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, the way he knows you do to ground yourself.

Well, hell, there’s no hiding now, not when he knows you can feel just how fast you have his heart beating. You’re probably counting his pulse and getting ready to tell him to relax.

But you don’t. You don’t speak at all. You stare at your hand over his heart and wait, but he’s not sure what for. It’s not until his lungs scream for air that he realizes he’s holding his breath. He feels like he’s going to float away and finds himself shakily breathing in. He knows you feel it. His hand covers yours, anchoring him to you, trying to prove he means everything he’s told you and so much more he can’t yet say.

Finally, your eyes raise up to meet his so intensely he might have been knocked off his feet if he wasn’t locked onto your hand so tightly, feeling his heart thrum against your palm.

“Lori—”

Your finger shushes him, pulling against the fullness of his lips. The touch is electric, zinging through every nerve in his body and buzzing around his chest. He doesn’t understand what’s happening until you’re on your tiptoes, your cold little hand pulling down on his jaw.

The two of you have kissed before, of course, but always for an audience, and even then, you’ve never once initiated it. So, when your lips meet his so softly, he’s taken aback with disbelief.

You don’t waver, however, through the milliseconds it takes him to recover his wits, waiting patiently until every sense in his body hums to life all at once. His heart swells and his belly tingles and then he’s kissing you back, as gently as he can, swearing he won’t be careless with you again.

He wants to devour you but doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to ruin this blissful, unbelievable little moment where your lips are pressed so chastely against his own, using them to say all the things neither of you can seem to say out loud.

The sliver of logic still left in his brain tries to convince him this slice of vulnerability you’re sharing with him is likely nothing more than a show of gratitude, but his aching heart can’t tell the difference.

So there’s no helping the way his other hand falls to your waist, cinching there, pulling you closer. Your minty breath puffs against him in surprise, then he’s gently chasing your mouth with his, unable to stop himself—the hope of it all, of what could be, is too consuming. He can’t stop the way it blossoms through him, opening pieces of him he didn’t know existed.

It’s dangerous, this hope, but Lord have mercy, he can’t bring himself to care about the risks. Not when you’re in his arms like this. Not when he needs you like he needs oxygen.

This little kiss is like heaven, he realizes, because you are giving it freely. It’s not for show; it’s not begrudging or afraid. No, a kiss like this from you means only one thing:

It’s an answer.

A promise.

Or it’s a goodbye, you idiot.

The horror of that possibility squeezes his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pushes it away fiercely.

When the sweet kiss breaks, he finds himself winded even though he shouldn’t be, his head bowed and pressing into yours. He threads his fingers through yours over his wildly beating heart. Anything to keep you tethered to him.

Not one kiss out of the hundreds he’s had in his life has ever knocked him flat quite like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Elvis. You are offering me so much—too much—and I don’t know how much I can give you in return…I—,” you whisper, voice wavering.

“You’re enough,” he manages to get out, not wanting to hear the rest. And it’s true. God help him, it’s true.

You breathe in a little gasp of air, one that makes his heart flip. Then your crystal eyes raise to meet his.

“Then, yes, Elvis Presley, I’ll marry you.”

TW: physical illness (fainting, vomiting), dissociation, Gianni and references to previous sexual assault, lots of cussing, unplanned pregnancy due to sexual assault, brief allusions to abortion

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

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chimcess · 3 months

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→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood inside of a small boat house, Bridd’s scent faint, but I knew it was fresh. At least I could give Jimin that. Hoseok said to take a look around outside and try to follow it. I sighed. I had already done that. I had done it yesterday as well, but Jimin demanded I go back to double check. Today’s assessment was much better than yesterday's so I was able to pick up the subtle nuances within it. She had been standing where my feet were planted no more than 48 hours earlier.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice was clear in my head despite him being five miles away. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung said something about Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna chimed in. She had been relatively quiet, her thoughts only focused on catching any sign of Bridd. “Do you think she’s headed that way?”

“Doubtful,” I followed the trail from the small cot on the floor to the fridge. “I don’t believe she was ever going to see our cousins.”

Hyuna contemplated this. Hoseok felt guilty. Both of us scolded him for this. He had been hard on himself over the entire ordeal. He thought if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin that this situation would have never happened. Apologizing, the younger wolf went back to wondering where she could have gone.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I added. “I don’t know which way she would have gone. She might be lost out there.”

That worried all of us. Hoseok knew her better than I did and kept thinking about how little she knew of the outside world. She would have no idea where she was without a map. Hyuna had more faith in her ability to survive out there, and I leaned more towards her thought process. If she needed to fight, she could, and her shifting would lend itself useful regardless. She had probably flown over the swamps and into Clarcton. That would be the easiest and most efficient use of her time.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok thought.

Following her scent outside, it stopped on the small deck just outside of the home. She had to have shifted from here. We would not be able to find her. Hoseok huffed in annoyance, Hyuna tried to soothe him, and I could finally pick up my sister’s thoughts. She was worried about everyone, not that it surprised me, Yeong-Mi was always giving herself migraines and panic attacks.

“Shut up,” She snapped at me, her tone biting. I could still hear the stress underneath it. “He’s right, oppa,” Yeong-Mi was talking to Hoseok now. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s to blame for this.”

Sol’s face came to her mind. It was distorted, the Luna’s features not quite right. My sister saw Sol as often as the rest of the village did, and her memories did not do the older girl justice. Mini told me she did not care how wrong she remembered Sol’s face; she had no thoughts of facing the stupid woman anytime soon. Hyuna agreed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about her only trying to help but none of us paid it any attention.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently chastised my little sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had minded her own business,” Mini barked, her stress and frustration boiling over, “-Bridd wouldn’t have run away! God, the nerve. Who would say something like that to Jimin Oppa when we all know just how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna bit, her anger surfacing once more. She had always had an issue with Sol. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae the man hasn’t had a break.”

I had tried to stay neutral, but I could not help agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had been out of line and overstepped. I found solace in Taehyung’s own reaction to her wrongdoing. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin went into a frantic panic in the middle of the night once he found his girl’s bed empty, and rumors of their constant arguing since the morning Bridd went missing were spreading throughout Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin told me Jimin said she was going to the Ozryn mountains alone,” My sister supplied. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know what really happened, but he’s devastated about this.”

Hoseok growled when Jimin’s name came up. Mini took up for her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the situation at large. What Sol told Jimin was a very harsh, unrealistic, misrepresentation of Bridd’s plans. He was reacting on what he knew, or lack thereof, and lashed out. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he was convinced she was going off to kill herself after she just recovered from a previous injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his fire burnt out in the face of his wife. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” I was pleasantly surprised to hear Jungkook’s older brother, Jong-Hyun. He had been searching the east for a scent but came back around once he realized my sister had left him behind. “They’re both stubborn and I don’t think little miss witch would have allowed him to go. Ji-Hyun said the two of them got into an argument the afternoon she left, and he feels partially responsible for whatever happened between them.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than normal?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

All of us shared a laugh, the tense moment going by. Hyuna and Hoseok had finally found one another, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. The rest of us turned down their offer. I did not want to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi decided to wait for them so she could keep an eye out for any elves.

Drowning out their voices, I continued sniffing. I knew finding a trail would be next to impossible unless I went deeper into the swamps, but elves could be anywhere. My fear for Bridd came back. I hoped to God that she was safe and watching her back out there. I knew she could handle her own, but she was not infallible.

I sat there, staring out at the brown water, willing it to tell me where to go next, until Hyuna let me know Taehyung was looking for me. My father was concerned about a party of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and wanted me out of the forest. Jimin was refusing to come home so Taehyung needed me to help him plan strategies. Hyuna had rounded back to meet up with me near Bridd’s cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked her.

“Of course not,” The small, red wolf replied. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are scouting him out. He’s somewhere deep in the forest.”

She was disappointed that their beach trip was postponed but chose not to comment on it. I tried to comfort her in my own way, picturing the two of them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved me off. She was grateful but did not want to talk about it knowing it would bother Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?”

“Nothing.”

Stepping into Bridd’s clearing, I admired the wildflowers. She had to have the most beautiful oasis in all of Lustra. Her cottage was surrounded by a beautiful garden filled with vegetables, fruits, and herbs. A large, porcelain bird bath at the very front of the house that, for some reason, never ran out of water. It was odd how perfectly made and curated the meadow was. The Gods must have made it this way so the Bridd would not grow depressed inside. Hyuna was laying in the grass close to the destroyed house. Taehyung said an elf was the one who did all of the damage. Bridd’s scent stuck to the wood, but it was starting to fade.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna looked at the large hole in the front of the house, her mind revealing just how sad she felt. As much as she scolded Hoseok for harboring guilt, she had her own. “I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” My friend’s scent was heavy in the air. Fresh. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded, “I think he’s trying to fix the place up. Jungkook was talking about it with Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with having everything fixed before she comes home.”

We shared a look. Neither one of us were very hopeful that our little bird would be back anytime soon. I had more faith in her survival abilities than Hyuna did, but neither one of us had any way of knowing when she could realistically get back.

Hyuna remembered her trips to Bangtan back when she still lived in Viridi Gramine. The mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and absolutely lethal. She was a princess, royal and proud in her bloodline, and traveled with the most experienced and strong guides in the land, and still there was always a chance she could never return. After she became of age and found Hoseok, the thought of going through those mountains had never passed her mind before her mother grew ill.

I had never crossed Ozryn myself, but I knew it was a harsh place to be. Hyuna’s memories alone left a chill in my bones. Bridd could very well die out there and no one would be able to stop it from happening. I entertained the thought of Jimin and I leaving Foxglove behind to find her, but one look from Hyuna wiped it clean from my mind. We could not leave the village until we knew more.

Bridd’s death would destroy Jimin, and I was certain Taehyung and Sol’s marriage would fall apart for a time. More than it already had. The Park family would never be the same. For that I desperately hoped she would come to her senses and come home but knew she would not. The little flicker of fire I had seen in those eyes when I showed up to her cottage after Sol’s birthday had told me more about her than the years, we had orbited one another’s atmosphere. She had more in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered like we were breaking some unspoken law. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t know what to look for?”

“She has maps-”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna was quick to cut me off. “That girl is blind, and you and I both know it.”

I did not have to speak- we both knew we were on the same page. Still, I told her how fierce Bridd could be when she felt threatened. Showing her our fight outside of the cottage, Hyuna chuckled.

“She’s a fighter, that’s for sure. Still, I worry. When she was in the infirmary all of the witches said that they were used to her fainting spells. How can we know she won’t do that out there?”

I shook my head. “We don’t. We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A howl echoed through the forest, and I knew I had to get going. Taehyung rarely shifts these days so it must be urgent. Hyuna decided to tag along and wait for her husband at the Temple. She daydreamed of taking a few swings at Sol if given the chance while we ran. I chose to ignore it.

As we got closer to the village, I began to hear the voices of the other copiae that joined the search party. The loudest was Ji-Hyun who complained of his sister-in-law’s melodramatics. Hyuna fought back a snarl, her thoughts murderous. The younger wolf had the decency to drop the subject, but my distaste for him did not change. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to go home for the day. He was able to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change and our connection severed.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts of Sol swirling into Ji-Hyun.

I chuckled, “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna barked. “That boy knows better, and what he said to Bridd was so out of line. How dare you defend him?”

I whined, bowed my head, and looked down. Submitting was not something I did often, but I respected Hyuna enough to do so. A fight was the last thing I wanted. Besides, if I had an issue with Hyuna that would mean I had an issue with Hoseok, and that was not something we could not afford right now. Not with this war starting.

“It’s not defending him,” I tried to keep any annoyance for her out of my tone. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing and fighting about something we cannot change is pointless.”

She huffed but dropped it. I knew I had won our little exchange and held my head up high. Now, more than ever, we needed to let things go. Taehyung’s thoughts showed his conflicting feelings. While he agreed we needed to come together to fight, to deal with this threat together, he was hurt and angered by his friend’s disappearance. I could see underneath it all, however, he felt betrayal from the one person he held dearest.

Sol brought up mixed emotions of my own. I had wanted her for so long, my longing to be the leader of my people blinding me. When Taehyung was chosen, I was disappointed, but any romantic feelings I may have harbored for the young Luna vanished. Even if my actions after did not reflect it, I was happy for my little cousin.

His wife was never someone I had been particularly close with. She was obsessed with Jimin for years. I could not recall the number of times I could hear her daydreaming about him when we went on walks together. Ahn had asked for me to be her escort when she shifted, and the ramblings of a teenage girl were the last thing I needed to hear. Especially when I found myself wanting to be at her side, to rule and lead, and her thoughts of me only commenting on how ugly I was.

To say she was distraught over Jimin’s lack of interest was an understatement. The poor girl was begging the other alpha to have his way with her- mates be damned. Sol was lucky he was nothing short of a good man. Anyone else might have been tempted, but not Park Jimin. He was kind, cordial, and played with her often, but any sexual advances were immediately shut down. I know why now, and through that lens it was easier to wrap my head around. He was already deeply enamored with another.

Sol’s entire life was flipped upside down once she found herself in Taehyung’s arms. Confusion and disbelief were very prominent at first, but that quickly melted away into adoration. It was as if she had always loved him. For Taehyung the feeling was mutual. Before Sol, he had his eyes set on a local girl called Minji.

Still, I could only guess Sol could not stop herself. It was almost a reflex for her to dote on Jimin at this point. They were closer in age than the rest of us (save Taehyung), though Jimin was a good 7 years older than her, and he was always kind and thoughtful. When she heard that he might be harmed she ran to his side. What she told him, things I only knew because Jimin would not stop thinking about that night, were only meant to help him. She pushed her friendship with Bridd aside to go to him, put her trust with Taehyung under the guillotine, and even risked ruining her bond with Jimin himself in order to protect his heart. It would be admirable if she had thought it over for a few minutes instead of rushing to his house like a bat out of hell, spewing out the most over dramatic and, frankly, not truthful, versions of events.

The argument he had with Bridd was based on what Sol had said. He was already agitated enough as it was. His pack of fifteen had been reduced to seven and the newer recruits were too young. Stress and frustration bubbled over the moment the Luna’s mouth opened. She said Bridd was planning on dying, that the witch was lying to everyone about where she was going, that she was hellbent on making up for her past mistakes. Ridiculous, and while partially true, it was spoken by a teenage girl who did not listen to a word the messenger had said. At that moment all Jimin could hear was his mate marching to her death so she could make up for keeping her mouth shut.

It was still strange to think about what Bridd did. I was annoyed she had kept her visions to herself but that faded once I realized that she was terrified and could do nothing. We were not on good terms. Foxglove had removed themselves completely and Ahn had not been quiet about his plans to go to her cottage. I could not blame her for feeling hesitant to say something when she was not sure what the threat could be. Ahn could have had the witch killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled.

“When wasn’t he?” I asked rhetorically.

The others all shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame for what happened, and her actions the minute she realized what was happening showed how much she cared. Cadoc helped those who were on the fence come back on our side. The way he described waking up and seeing the little witch girl who fumbled and fought by his side, broken and bleeding, was enough to make the toughest cry. When he said the second her eyes opened all she could think about was getting to Foxglove as quickly as possible any whispers of her being ill-intentioned were dashed away. Only a select few still felt weary of her, Ji-Hyun being one of them, but they were at least attempting to be decent for the pack’s sake.

We were at the village’s edge now and I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief goodbye before leaving me to shift. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were used to giving me the space I desperately craved during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment and I hated feeling seen.

We had various items of clothing hidden within Bangtan. None of it was meant to fit well or be personable, but it was practical. My mother was in charge of keeping the copiae clothed and taken care of a job that she took very seriously, and it was one of the only things my father felt proud of. He would often put her down and tell her she needed to do better, be better, and all of the other strange demeaning slogans the older men in town harped on about. I had never been able to see the fault of any of the women, my mother even more so, but she never commented on it and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. Putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I would not cause him undo stress. He was dealing with so much already and I did not want to add to my cousin’s weight. I think I have done enough of that already.

Walking through the town, I caught sight of Jimin’s mother. She was helping Jungkook’s father cut wood for his roof. The Parks were a strange family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, loud, and fierce. She did not bow down to men the way the others did, and her stubborn streak was only rivaled by her youngest child. My own family often spoke of her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I was only ever endeared by Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun had been a quiet kid, favoring his mother more with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years and Jimin never complained. That lonely quietness followed him into his teenage years, but when he fell in love with a human girl that forced a fierce, possessiveness to form. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, and that changed him. His attitude was horrible, always defensive and quick to judge, but he had a love and devotion for his family unlike anything I have ever seen. Somehow, even more than his older brother.

Jimin, for all his faults, was someone who had always fascinated me. From the time he was born he had the village at his feet. His father had been a strong, powerful man who was every bit the wolf our people expected. His choice of bride was bizarre, but everyone was sure if anyone could handle Mi-Jeong it was Ji-Won. Jimin, like his father, bore all the hallmarks of a Park. Charming, witty, and courageous. What set him apart, however, was the sweetness he kept hidden away from the others. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first time was when I watched him chase after butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but at that age boys were expected to show signs of maturity. In public, Jimin was the picture-perfect child. However, as I watched him blow bubbles, giggling a sound so sweet it made my teeth hurt, before taking off after a monarch, I knew whatever he was doing was an act.

I frowned. His sweetness was showing once more, now very publicly, and I was not sure how he was handling it. He was not allowing anyone to speak with him, shunned his closest friends, and was hiding away waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. Such a strange sight, Park Jimin weak and in pain.

Mi-Jeong caught my eyes just then and I could see it in her as well. She was so sad, so worried. I hoped her family would come together but doubted that would happen. At least, not until Bridd came back. If she came back. I shuddered to think about the fate of the Park family if she did not return home.

I did not stop to speak to anyone like I normally did. My mind was too scattered and, frankly, I was done with conversation. Having a constant cycle of thoughts and voices in your head would do that. Luckily, no one seemed bothered by my silence. We were all living in uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

I grit my teeth. I knew that voice. It was grating in its smoothness. Taking a deep breath, I turned to look across the way.

Of course, he would be here.

Seokjin had become my own personal hell over the last few days. The man could hold a grudge and had still not forgiven me for lunging at his friend. Now he was standing there, a stern look on his face, his eyes filled with disdain. Beside him was a face I did not see as frequently. Yoongi looked worse than ever. He was thin and frail, much frailer than he had been before he was blinded, and his hair messy. His eyes were even bluer today than they were when I had last seen him. His pupil was nearly gone.

“Unfortunately, not,” I deadpanned, trying to get out of this as quickly as possible. “There’s still a few out searching, but I was called away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darkening even further. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, not liking the tone in his voice.

I did not like much about him.

“You don’t care if you find her or not,” He replied, his voice dripping with anger. “None of you do.”

I was exasperated, “You know that is not true-”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me.

“Stop yelling,” I was attempting to keep myself calm. We were causing a scene. My father was going to be furious. “I’m aware of what Sol has done. Neither one of us are happy about it, but I’m not God. I can’t turn back time just like I can’t bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lap dog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We are at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly I am, and I hope she is alive and well, but my life does not revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she is not in, and I will not leave it to burn to go on some wild goose chase.”

Seokjin’s face was red now, his eyes moist from unshed tears. I could not help but pity the fool. Bridd was a close friend of his and she abandoned them. It was a harsh word to use, but that was the only one that truly captured the anguish the witches felt. I could not say how the others were doing. They made their disgust for our governing bodies known the night she went missing. Sol banned them from returning to the Temple after the woman who was always hanging off of Seokjin’s arm shouted at her. None of us had seen their little group leave the Park house since.

“You’re going to let her die,” He finally spoke, the accusation a punch in the gut.

Yes, I would let the witch girl die if it meant saving my own. She was nothing to me. We were hardly friends, and while I respected her, that did not mean I would choose her over my sister. Being here was far more important to me than that woman’s life. If the stakes were not so high then I would gladly hunt her down, but that was not the life we were living. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing and be okay with it.

“Jin,” Yoongi stepped in. I had forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s go back to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was glad he seemed to be more reasonable than Seokjin. Stealing another look at him, I was pleased to see his hair was growing. That meant he was eating well enough. It was a shame no one knew how to help his condition. I could not imagine losing my vision within a blink of an eye. Then I remembered that he did not just lose it. Yoongi had been in agony, his head felt like it had been slammed through the thick cement of the castle walls, and his fear sent him into panic attacks. Samanya told me she had only ever seen it happen once. The spell should have killed him, and he was lucky to have survived with only his eyesight lost. I doubted he felt that way.

“But-”

“Drop it,” The raven-haired man stopped Seokjin before he could get another word in. Without looking, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We are all worried. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I had ever heard him speak, even counting the time all of us had been at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you are better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who did not look at my face. Yoongi stared out towards the south end of the village, his eyes untrained and unresponsive, and he showed no signs that he was having a discussion with anyone. Even his voice remained monotone and unwavering. Gruff and smokey while the intention was flat.

“I am fine,” He replied, “We are here because my mother was interested in how far you believe she could be. I will let her know that she must have shifted, and her scent was lost.”

“Thank you,” I replied, impressed he was able to keep Seokjin quiet for this long. “She was inside of a houseboat for a few hours before leaving. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “Must have slept and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged, “I couldn’t say. I’m sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi raised a hand and dropped it immediately. I had no idea what he was trying to do but decided it did not matter. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin seemed to open his mouth to argue but decided against it. I smirked triumphantly. I should keep the blind witch around more often. He had the perfect effect on the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned back toward the direction of the residential district.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were scattered about the tables, a few pages torn out stacked messily on the edge of the large oak table he had been sitting at. His blonde hair was shaggy now, the back of it just past the nape of his neck while the rest hung just below his ears. My little cousin kept thick wavy bangs that fell over his eyebrows which were now so long they had to be held from his eyes back with a headband.

I was worried for him. He was frightened and slowly losing his composure. He was able to hold it together long enough to make it through meetings with the elders. He refused to show them any weakness. He did not want to prove Ahn right. However, anyone could see how much the pressure was starting to affect the young boy. Jimin was trying to keep him sane through this, but he was dealing with his own problems.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up where he slacked. I owed it to the both of them after my part in their exile. Taehyung was better at forgiveness than Jimin, but the both of them had given me grace I did not deserve. I was lucky. Other men might have taken my head after the show of disrespect. Jimin very well might have if he was not so concerned with upsetting his mate.

I needed to stop thinking of them. Taehyung had called me for a reason, and I had to be there for my cousin. His pacing did not slow or stop when I came in, so I was sure he was not about to talk war with me. He seemed to calm down when we talked about strategy.

“Sorry for taking so long, Tae,” I kept my voice low and calm.

He paused his pacing to look over at me. His eyes were red-rimmed and wet, his cheeks swollen and flushed, and his lower lip could not hide its tremble no matter how much effort he put into it. Taehyung’s emotional vulnerability had always confounded me. He was so sweet and kind, gentle and warm, and had never made any real efforts to change himself. He laughed at his clumsiness, skipped when he was happy, and played with his younger siblings like the giant child he was.

Likewise, he was never afraid to cry. When Jimin’s father died neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a single tear when around others. I knew better than to foolishly think the boys did not sob into their mother’s shoulders during the night, especially Jimin, but the town was thrilled by their show of “bravery.” Taehyung did not know how to put on that mask as perfectly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father did not die as honorably as Jimin’s had, no final acts of courage protecting his wife from a stray pack of wolves. Just sickness. Ahn called him a weak man for allowing something as insignificant as an infected wound kill him. No one really thought the same way he had but made no effort to disagree with him. Not to his face, anyway. My own mother had said Ahn was cruel for putting down an already grieving family, and she was one of his loyalists.

“I hadn’t noticed it had been that long,” He mumbled before going back to pacing.

He had never looked more like his father. Dong-Min was respectable, wise and honest, but never a man others flocked to. He had been an artist from Viridi Gramine, and while his paintings and scrolls were the most beautiful in Nantgarth, he was not seen as someone important. When he met Hana, he had found his muse, and she adored his soft-spoken demeanor. She came from an abusive home, and her father had beaten her black and blue the night she ran to Dong-Min. The two ran away from Withertusk hand in hand, his sister’s house the only place he knew he could go, and their troubles ended soon after arriving in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I broached the subject bluntly. Taehyung preferred it that way. “What’s the matter?”

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked me, his voice cracking. He must have started crying again. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Please. Tell me if I have done anything horrible to her.”

“To who?”

I went to comfort the boy. His shoulders moved with his cries, but he was surprisingly quiet. It had never crossed my mind that he was desperately trying to cover up his pain from the others, his discomfort so noticeable I had assumed he had forgotten the act. I was always getting things wrong with Taehyung. The only thing he could do was shake his head, close his eyes, and let a fresh wave of tears overtake him.

I embraced him then, his crying making me uncomfortable. The last time he shed tears on my shoulder had been his father’s funeral. It was after Ahn had told him tears would not bring his father back. He tripped running out of the building, unable to breathe in the presence of the chief, and scraped his knee. Blood flowing down his leg, pants ripped, and black clothes covered in dust, Taehyung begged me to hold him when I found him. My father came to check on us sometime later, and in a rare act of kindness, took the younger boy to our house to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I was not a good comforter, but I hoped words of encouragement would help. “Whatever happened between you two to have you like this is only a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you and knows how dearly you love her.”

Tae sniffled; his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” He cried. “Y/N.”

That seemed worse to me. I could easily give him meaningless fluff about his mate. Their love was a given. He had been very angry with her about speaking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they would work through it in time. Trust had been broken but their bond would conquer that. His friendship with the witch was a different story. I had never seen it with my own eyes, but I knew it was strong. He looked at her like the older sister he never had, his thoughts said as much, but I did not feel equipped enough to help him through his grief.

“You did nothing to her, Tae,” I reasoned. I could do logic. “She made a choice to leave and held no ill will toward you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say enough?”

The red gem was pressed against my skin. Bridd had been so sweet to Taehyung and smiled after everything he said. The gift was a kind gesture he had not truly earned after such a botched introduction. Still, she had given it to him just as she gave me that journal. Ironic that she had given it to me to write about adventures and it had instead become my poetry book. He had refused to take the necklace off since reading the letter.

“I told Sol,” He whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault-”

“I’m tired of the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing Taehyung. Now an arm’s length away, I took a hold of my cousin's shoulders. “Everyone has been doing nothing but feeling sorry for themselves. Y/N chose to leave this place to find help. No one is forcing her to do that.

“You and I both know how capable she is, right? Stop acting like she’s dead, Tae. The girl knows what she’s doing, and if she doesn’t, I’m sure she’s smart enough to figure something out. Stop allowing guilt and fear to distract you from what’s important. She left to find some ancient being to help us survive this fight with the elves.”

“What if she…” His voice trailed off, unable to put death in the universe.

“Then we make sure it’s not in vain,” I let go of him. “We plan, strategize, and prepare to fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I did not really want to swear on her name this way, but I knew it would be something Taehyung latched onto. She was not really my friend, but I could live with fighting in her honor. I respected her enough. It worked and Taehyung’s eyes held more heat than they ever had.

“For Bridd,” He said it like a prayer.

Internally, I prayed she would come back soon. I was not sure if this fire would last, and I was afraid of what might happen if it was left to grow out of control. As long as I knew Taehyung, he was obsessive. When he was a boy, he painted like his father. When he got a little older, he sculpted like our grandmother. Early teen years Taehyung was dead set on learning how to garden. That soon shifted into learning about all of the plants in Bangtan. Now, I worry it will become this war. Taehyung was not ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in him.

“You should go and see your mom,” I told him earnestly. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I did not add my worries over him being locked away in the Temple since he got back.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry if I’m gone.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned, “We aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to run her mouth? I could not bear to see Taehyung look so defeated. The flames that I sparked in him did not ease my worries. He was still lost at sea, and I fear I had done more harm than good. I should have let him cry and whine. That was easier than trying to navigate if I had said or done the right thing or not.

The rest of the day flew by. After my conversation with Taehyung, he left to see his siblings and I stayed behind to get some work done. Despite our war plans we still had obligations to our cousins on the east coast. After writing for a few hours, warnings and heeds against traveling included, I went back to our maps. The library was filled with them, and I hoped a fresh start would help us get a breakthrough.

All talks of war had gotten loud and angry quickly with my father and Jimin at odds more often than not. I loved my dad, but I couldn't help but doubt his methods. He wanted to march to Northorn and meet our enemy there. Jimin saw this as idiotic. The elves would have an easier time fighting our kind on an unknown field. No one knew the forest like our pack did and we could use that to our advantage. If we were lucky, the elves might find a way to disturb the other creatures that lived here. Even luckier if it happened to be the fae.

Unfortunately, I was not as well versed as either one of them. I knew how to fight and was very good at it, but my skills in a tactical situation were severely lacking. Whenever Jungkook joined the conversation the two of us were on the same side of the debate. We did not want to die but would do so if asked. He, like myself, favored Jimin’s plans. Staying in Bangtan was the most logical step for now.

The rest of the witches from Syrena arrived late in the afternoon. They were loud and angry women, their rage burning bright enough to scare the most well-trained fighter. I felt sorry for them. They lost their leader during the attack and were now relying on the swamp woman to guide them. Thinking of them made me think of Yoongi again.

He had seemed to be adjusting well enough, but fighting would be pointless. He could not see a target. He was dead weight. I frowned. Such a pity. He was a great fighter and I had been impressed with him during the attack. The only way they were able to stop him was that spell and it only took him out temporarily. I had a feeling he would be back on the battlefield even if he was told to stay away. His death would be a respectable one.

Seokjin was another one that surprised me. As much as I disliked the witch, I could not deny the man knew how to fight. He took down elf after elf, defended his girlfriend, and saved his father’s life. I trusted him enough to know he would defend my pack with the same veracity and hoped we could place our differences aside to train together. It would be helpful to all of us if we could find a way to fight as a cohesive unit. I would speak with Jimin about it later.

I smelled her before I heard her. Her feet were normally bare and freezing cold, but I doubted she cared. Rose stuck to her honey-sweetness, and I had to hold back a gag. Sol always tried so hard to cover up her natural scent, but I knew it was not her fault for being so self conscious about it. Ahn had destroyed most of her individuality, made her second guess herself constantly, and called her ugly on numerous occasions. Jimin and I heard it all through the years, Hoseok as well but to a lesser extent, and we tried our best to keep her company.

Jungkook was the most vital member of her circle, but he was hardly around anymore. He was trying to give the couple space, and Sol had been happy with that until a Bridd left. Now Jungkook stayed away to avoid getting caught in the middle of their tug of war. I could not blame the boy. He was too young to be of any real emotional support, and he wanted to stay in Jimin’s good graces hoping the older man would allow him to join the copiae now that Ahn was not around to stop him.

She knew I was in here. She was coming to find me. Her little feet pitter pattered against the marble floors. The west wing was the most luxurious part of the Temple and the place Sol and Taehyung slept. The library here was huge, painted in white and gold, with thousands of books. Spiral staircases led to the second floor where more bookcases were lined up. That was considered the “ancient section” where one could find scrolls and books from our time in Korika. That was Sol’s favorite place in the entire Temple.

She stood in front of me, her hands clasped in front of her little body, and her toes wiggling. Her hair was not covered, something that made me feel deeply uncomfortable, and cascaded down her back. It was beautiful, thick and black with natural waves. Averting my gaze, I stared at her toes. They were small and cute.

“Luna,” I greeted. “Your hair.”

She sighed as if expecting me to say something. She was almost annoyed. I could not figure out why. Modesty had always meant something to Ahn and Sol, and her hair was called “impoper.” Ahn made it seem like it was inherently sexual simply for being beautiful. Not many of the other women in Foxglove would wear a head covering, but I always respected Sol’s choice. She was upset right now and not thinking straight, and I worried she would regret walking around me so exposed.

“Does it matter?” She murmured. “We all know I am no longer virtuous.”

I frowned, “Your virtue is not tied with your virginity, Sol.”

I was more aware of my bare chest than normal. It was improper for the two of us to be alone like this. Family or not, it was wrong. Taehyung would be hurt if he caught us in such a compromising position. I stood and put some distance between us, taking extra care not to look at Sol.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked. “Aside from the obvious.”

Walking over the library entrance, I leaned against the doorframe and stared out into the hall. At least I could say I was far away from the luna. I could hear her sit down in the chair I had left, and I waited.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol spoke softly.

“Why would I think that?” I countered.

She laughed humorlessly, “We know you’re more in tune with my thoughts than most, Joon. You were there before Taehyung. You were always there. You and I were practically betrothed for a while. At least, that’s what my father said.”

I hated when she called Ahn father. He was nothing to her. Everyone knew Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun were her parents. They suddenly disappeared from the village when Sol was less than six months old, leaving her behind and in Ahn’s care. Whispers spread about what had happened to them, but I always believed what my mother said. Ahn banished the couple from the village and took their child. No one had seen or heard from them in 18 years, so it was hard to say, but I did not trust Ahn. Not at all.

“I was never fair to you,” She continued. “I was mean and rude. Cold. I wanted Jimin so badly, probably because he did not want me, and I treated you like a problem. Maybe it was my own way of rebelling. Either way, I’m sorry.

“I think you understand me more than anyone else. You were always there with me. You never complained. It’s one of the things I always appreciated about you, your ability to stay calm. Taehyung is similar, though not as stoic. I love that about him.”

I did not have to see her to know her eyebrows were pulled down, her teeth nibbling her lower lip, and her leg shaking. Sol was very obvious in her discomfort. Her voice gave her away.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, not unkindly.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you did not really like me very much, but I trust your opinion more than the others. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was tired and worn, and I was not sure what to do about it. Not for the first time I found myself bored of the Luna. I reminded myself of her age, her youth, and her innocence, but it did not change how I felt. She made a mistake, overstepped boundaries and lied while doing so, and caused a mess of things. The fact that I knew her only made it worse, because I knew she did not consider a single person outside of herself. I doubt she thought anyone would be angry with her. In fact, she was probably hoping for praise and attention.

“Am I a bad person?” She asked, her voice weak and frail.

“No,” She was not a bad person for what happened, “But I won’t lie to make you feel better. You should not be trusted by anybody after the stunt you pulled.”

I heard her sniffle, “It’s not my fault he said the things he said. He chose to be cruel and mean to Y/N. She decided to leave! How is anything my fault?”

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Not even her gentle cries stopped my genuine annoyance with her from shining through. I had not been there for the argument between Jimin and Bridd, nor his conversation with Sol, but his thoughts had been enough to get me up to speed. She had done nothing but stir the pot between them, well intentioned or not, and made all of this far more dramatic than it needed to be.

“It’s your fault your relationship is suffering. It’s your fault that the pack is angry with you. You did that. No one else. Actions have consequences, Sol. You and I both know that,” Sparing her a brief look over my shoulder, I refused to let her tears soften my resolve. “If you were hoping I was going to lie to save your feelings, you were mistaken. Go to one of your maids and cry to them. They’re trained to dry your eyes, but I’m not.”

She did not speak and so I decided to leave. I had been here most of the day now and needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. The Temple was the last place I wanted to spend time in right now, but my options were limited. Maybe if I could find Sam, she would not mind making space for me in her bed.

I fought back a smile. She was an amazing woman, her beauty striking and confidence refreshing. We had found ourselves alone a handful of times since her people came to our aid and our flirtatious relationship was amusing. I had come to know that quietus was not monogamous and rarely took on a full-time lover. She only knew of her king and queen, but they had another woman who joined them after the Century War. Sam and I shared a laugh about how scandalous that would be in the village, not just a threesome but same-sex relations, but I had not truly entertained her advances. She was not someone I imagined myself with.

I did not want to go to my family home either. Being around my parents for too long would drive me insane. I was always putting on a front with my father and my mother refused to stand up to him. Most of my childhood was spent getting beaten while my mother watched, relieved that her own punishment was over. By the time Mini came along those days were in the past. When my dad stopped drinking our relationship got better, a little less violent, but I never got rid of the resentment I held. Sometimes I truly believed I hated both of them.

I had been sleeping at Hoseok’s the last few nights, but he had asked for some privacy, and I got too caught up with work to ask someone else if they had any space for me. It was a far cry from the lavish room I had within the Temple, but I could not stand being there most of the time. I would have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but my job was important enough to give me pause. If I stepped down as head council that would mean that my father or Bo would be placed in charge of public relations. I would eat my own shoes before letting that happen. Taehyung would go insane if those two were the only ones left in charge.

I thought about other friends I could visit. The Parks would open their door for me, but they were housing such a large group I felt awful going there. Yoongi and swamp witch’s families were still there. Jin’s little group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were spread out between a few wolf families and the humans. They were originally planning on staying at the Temple, but Sol made a mess of that. I sighed. Everything went south so quickly.

“You look lost.”

I stopped walking. I did not realize I had walked into the copiae grounds. Jimin was sitting on his porch, a large glass in his hand and a dark look in his eye. I could smell the alcohol on him from across the street. Going to him, I tried not to think about my dad.

“You’re drunk,” I took the glass from him and sniffed. Mead. If I had to guess, from Jungkook’s house. “This isn’t going to make you feel better.”

He shrugged, “I know. Just wanted a distraction.”

For the third time today, I was being asked to support someone. Even if Jimin had not asked for help directly, I knew I was going to drag his ass inside and make him go to sleep. At least I knew I could stay here afterwards. In the morning, I would make sure he ate and then try to convince him to come to the Temple and look over documents. He was the battle guy.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated bluntly. “I’ve already had to deal with two crybabies today and my emotional battery is drained. So, you’re just going to do me a favor and then we can talk in the morning.”

He scoffed, leaning back against his house. A faint sheen of sweat covered his body, and his hair was tangled. Jimin never looked so unkempt before. Showing no signs of moving, I rubbed my face roughly.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Look, how about I cut you a deal?”

He did not reply, but I decided to keep going anyway.

“I need somewhere to sleep. I can’t stand being around Taehyung and Sol right now. And you-” I gestured at his body, face tight, “-look like shit. Obviously, you’re upset but the pack needs you to pull it together so we can get through this.”

He was like a statue. “I’m going to stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll talk about feelings or whatever. Then, you and I are going to come up with a plan to get you back in the game. How does that sound?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly, “What’s the point?” His face crumbled and again I felt lost at sea. I could not deal with him crying. Thankfully, he gathered his composure. “What’s the point of anything? Without her… it just doesn’t matter.”

I sighed and sat down beside him. The wood was cold and rough, but it was easy to put that out of my mind. I had to think about this as two friends talking. Jimin had never asked me for anything, and when Taehyung was chosen, he had been the first person to tell me I needed to stand my ground against Ahn. I had been foolish at the time and ignored his advice. Now he needed me to stand my ground against himself, and I had no other option.

We could not go on like this. Jimin was not in the right state of mind right now, and I knew the only way to get him out of it was Bridd. My brain was already devising a plan, one that I had thought foolish and improbable this morning, and I wanted to laugh. There was no way we would be able to do it, but maybe bringing it up would make him feel better? Maybe knowing that someone would help him find her if we got the chance would motivate him to get work done. Feeling guilty, I decided to go for the jugular and deal with the consequences later.

“I know you're hurting right now,” I tried to soften my tone, but could not hear if it had worked or not. "I can't imagine how you feel. I know when you and Taehyung were gone how the guilt ate me alive. It must be worse for you."

"You don't have to say anything," He tried to interject, but I brushed off the comment like he had not said anything.

"I think I do. No one else is, apparently. We're in deep shit right now Park," I put my hand on his shoulder. "We need you, man."

He shook his head, "I wouldn't be much help right now, Joon."

"I don't believe that," I replied. "In fact, anything you do would be more helpful than whatever the hell you got going on. Your girl is on my side, by the way. She'd be on your ass if she found out how much you've been slacking."

That made him laugh quietly.

"That's fair," He was smiling, dazed and flushed from the alcohol. "She's such a little firecracker, isn't she?"

I nodded, "She tried to set me on fire once."

We shared a laugh at the memory. Truth is she terrified me. If she wanted to kill me that day she could have. If she did not have to worry about the sun, there was a real chance I left her house with more than a few scratches and bruises. Jimin beat my ass when she got hurt, but I had the added benefit of a lifetime worth of memories stopping him from taking my head off. I did not have that with Bridd.

"What if I wagered you something?" I asked.

That got his attention, “What?”

"If we get through this next wave of violence on top, I'll help you find her out there."

He looked at me, eyes more alert than they had been in days.

"Truly?"

The guilt made my stomach twist painfully. I did not truly believe we would ever get to that point. Elves were everywhere, the fight in Northorn growing in their favor as the days went by, and we were nowhere near ready. We had lost so many in this fight not to mention talks of traitors.

The alliance with the quietus was shaky at best without the proper bonds being formed. I was the only person in a position of power even attempting to reach out. Then there was the witch problem, and the only person I could see mending that fence was Jimin. It could be weeks, maybe even months, before we could go after Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership right now and the witch was the best source of motivation one could come by.

“I’ll go with you,” I doubled down. “We can have a small party. I’ve made friends with a quietus who knows her way around so finding her could be fairly simple.”

“You’d do that for me?” I could tell he was genuinely surprised.

I nodded, “If we're in the position to do it, why not?"

I could see him thinking about it. The faraway look in his eyes was gone giving way to a refreshed, almost serene look. He was going to go for it. Hope blossomed in my chest. If I had Jimin on my side, Taehyung would be a piece of cake. He desperately wanted to make amends with the older alpha. Seeing the two of them back in action would bring Hoseok back into the fold as well.

Already our odds were turning. Soon the elementals and witches would be joining in on our meetings, the elder council getting pushed out for a new crowd of leaders, and the war would finally seem less daunting. I might even be able to convince a new wave of warriors to join the copiae once the village saw Jimin's new resolve.

"Stay here as long as you need" Jimin finally said, and I was cheering internally. "You can take the couch."

I stood up, ready to go to bed, and pushed his head playfully. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids. Jimin always ended up winning our wrestling matches. He was too slippery.

"Let's go, kid," I stretched my arms above my head. "We have to get up early. Council meeting."

He nodded, asking me to help him stand. He must have drunk more than I thought. It takes a lot for alcohol to affect us this much.

"Hopefully Taehyung will get rid of the two dinosaurs in the Temple," He slurred, walking inside grumbling about his bed feeling too big.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

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zuffer-weird-girl · 1 year

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I just notice most of my writings I make a reader that can cook due to self insert... so now I'm doing the opposite-

Hcs that you can't cook and what would they do...

Can't cook as well so you both are screwed. The end.

Jokes apart, man really can't cook for the life of his.

He does know how to use a oven, he does know some recipes... but does he actually cook? Naim.

Is terrible even.

I don't even doubt he can burn water.

Poor bird tried so many times to make something for you or him but it's just never ends up right so he just gives up with a pouty face and goes to munch on some KFC :(

Much like you do.

So basically how the heck you guys live? Well, Keigo has a shit ton of money, so you guys can go out plenty of times or order a take out.

But alas, neither of you always want bought food because neither of you are made of money.

So Hawks being Hawks gladly will annoy ask Endeavour-san or Tokayami to for some leftovers.

Yes. Yes he asks food from a freacking teenager.

Enji truly is pissed at both of you.

If you get insecure over this he just smiles at you and assures is no big deal.

"We can always have our favorite foods delivered dove. Besides, cooking is not my talent either, so don't worry, you are great at everything you do anyway."

Man is so cute, he supports you muchhhh

But if you want to learn he will go all out to be your personal cheerleader.

Might tear up at the first dish you make him.

Screw if it's bad or not he is swallowing the whole thing down.

He won't regret it. Even if it ends up having to spend all the afternoon on the toilet.

Pls call a ambulance if he starts to throw up-

Not so screwed.

Man can do the bare minimum

Like... instant noodles and hamburger steak.

He is not much on complicated dishes, he fears he might screw up and didn't even tried once. For both disinterest and fear of messing up.

If he catches you putting yourself down due to this, he will put aside everything he was doing, grab your hand, yank you to the bedroom and assure you are great... and also you are so fucked... literally.

Yeah, do what you can with this information.

Man couldn't care less iff you are the masterchef or burn pasta, he will love you either way.

Besides, you are luck if you don't cook for him honestly.

Man is such a picky eater that if he ends up with someone that does cook he will give them headaches.

A nightmare to decide what to eat.

Despite hating fish, he will absolutely go out of his way to make a Italian pasta with tuna if you do like fish.

Aaaww <3 look at the loveable sociopath being a good boyfriend

Kurogiri.

That's it. That's the hc.

Kurogiri is your life saver. You're in good hands, man is good at making food.

HOUSE HUSBAND MATERIAL FIGHT ME

Hari doesn't care honestly.

He can cook for both of you.

Sweet dependable man ❤

Dude knows how to make a full course meal out of only 4 ingredients.

Put him on masterchef

He reassures you all day that is fine if you can't or don't want to cook since for him is not all that big of a deal.

The only thing he wants you to do, if you want to help him, is that you pass the ingredients or just crack the eggs

Cue him laughing like a hyena when you accidentally drop the eggshell on the bowl but not the actual egg.

Listen, even if you end uo ruining a recipe this dude will laugh. Not at you, but at the situation.

Because to him, is a fond memory he can look back at on his worst days to make him smile.

SOMEONE MARRY THIS MAN HE DESERVES IT-

Oh he is such a bitch about this-

Man knows how to cook some basics dishes and rarely a more sophisticated one but... he simply doesn't want to.

Is too 💫messy💫 for the pretty prince 🤴

He won't actually order or obligate you to cook for him since he is better than that I hope but do expect some sarcastic remarks that even Mimic could do an omelet.

I want to slap him for this shit-

The moment you bring up his disdain for kitchen messes and dirty dishes he will shut up pretty quickly with a scoff.

Arrogant lil sh-

So, either his subordinates make the dishes for you guys(i recommend chrono again), or he takes you out on a restaurant that he trusts.

Let's forget he is bankrupt for just a sec, pops will end up crying about the bill of the restaurant later

But there is this RARE situations where he will do something to impress you.

Man made Unagi for you. Show some respect.

And to your surprise it actually taste good!

Don't tell him though. We are sick of his God like syndrome.

And also, don't expect too much of this... as I said, is really rare that he would do something like that. He doesn't like to get his hands DIRTY

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #chrono x reader #kurono hari x reader #i wont even put shigaraki x reader for this one #overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha villains #bnha villains x reader #bnha x reader #zuffer writings #keigo takami x reader #todoroki touya x reader #kai chisaki x reader

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starryeyedjanai · 1 month

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you see better when you're looking Word Count: 16k Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Teen Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson Character(s): Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson

Summary: Chrissy doesn't know what she’s doing. She really doesn't know what she’s doing. She puts the car in park and tries to calm her nerves. It’s going to be fine. She’ll knock on the door and Eddie will sell her sleeping pills and she’ll finally, finally be able to sleep through the night. She has nothing to worry about. or—who knew going to the town’s local drug dealer for sleeping pills would lead Chrissy to finding so much more than just a good night’s rest?

Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Summer, after high school graduation, Recreational Drug Use, Eddie Munson's Guitar, Friendship, Friendship Bracelets, Flirting, Chrissy Cunningham Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, First Kiss, Making Out, Fluff

Art by @inflomora-art Fic by @starryeyedjanai Beta'd by @annanevermore

excerpt under the cut!

Chrissy doesn't know what she’s doing.

She really doesn't know what she’s doing.

She puts the car in park and tries to calm her nerves.

It’s going to be fine. She’ll knock on the door and Eddie will sell her sleeping pills and she’ll finally, finally be able to sleep through the night. She has nothing to worry about.

She gets out of her car and walks up to the door of Eddie’s trailer, looking around before she knocks on the door.

The door swings open after a minute and Eddie looks at her for a beat like he’s not sure what he’s actually seeing is true.

“Chrissy Cunningham. Do my eyes deceive me?” Eddie has a smirk on his face and Chrissy gulps.

“Your—no, it’s me,” she says awkwardly, bringing her hand up to wave at him.

She hasn't really seen Eddie since graduation—in the sticky, late May heat—when he flipped the principal the bird and ran off the stage with his diploma in hand, the same smirk on his face that he’s wearing now.

She thought he was probably going to be one of the people who left town immediately after graduating because he didn't seem to like it here, didn't seem to have any reason to stick around now that he’s graduated.

She thought he’d be peeling out of town in his van before the sun even went down the day of their graduation.

So she was surprised when she saw him the other day—just catching a glimpse of him from behind as he was leaving Melvald’s.

And she’s been hemming and hawing for days now about driving up to Lover’s Lake and trying to find Reefer Rick because she can't talk to her parents about how she’s not sleeping and she’s not with Jason anymore and he wouldn't have been able to help her even if she was.

She finally decided to come here when she realized that she doesn't even have her friends to talk to about any of this either.

It’s not that they all abandoned her when she and Jason broke up, but her friends are all dating his friends and he was always around and Chrissy hated how sad he always looked at her whenever they all hung out.

So she drifted further and further away from them as the school year came to a close. Even with the anxiety about college, she thinks it’ll be good to get a fresh start, away from Jason, away from most of her friends who don't really feel like her friends anymore.

Maybe after some time, some distance, she could talk to her friends again, but she can't even remember the last time any of them reached out to her, so it would feel weird reaching out about this now.

And because of all that, it felt a little bit like fate, seeing Eddie, still very much in town. She formulated this plan to get sleeping pills or something from him because he’s the only one she knows that might be able to help her besides Rick, and she’d much rather take her chances with Eddie than with Rick.

“What can I do you for?” Eddie asks when she doesn't say anything else. He tucks his hands into his pockets, leaning forward into her space.

“Can I come in?” she asks, nervously picking at her fingernail.

“Uh, sure,” Eddie says, not sounding sure at all, but he opens the door wider and steps out of the way, gesturing her inside with a sweep of his hand.

She steps past him and tries to remember to breathe. It’s fine, everything is fine.

read the rest on ao3!

#hellcheer #chrissy x eddie #eddissy #stranger things #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #strbb #stranger things reverse big bang #masterpost #i just realized that this was my 72nd work posted on ao3 and my rbb project number was 72 as well #what are the odds #janai.doc

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receival · 21 days

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castlevania, season 2 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from the netflix original, castlevania.

i’m going to get something for your cough.

don’t move. i’ll be right back with some medicine.

i hate that you’re not here, every day.

i’m amazed any of you are still alive.

what do you need? tell me, i’ll give it to you.

i will not be silenced. just let me help!

please, you don’t know what you’re doing.

you don’t know what you’re going to bring upon yourself if you harm me.

i’ll leave. you’ll never see me again.

stand up like a man.

what the hell was that?

you can’t hate livestock. they are simply what they are.

you understand why they all must die.

the matter is closed.

you sicken me. do you understand?

stop whining about cruelty. this is the world.

only the death matters now.

and i’m standing here sad and angry because they’re together, and i’m alone.

this is the part where you’re supposed to tell me i’m not alone, (name).

you are really very not good at this.

i learned to travel alone early in life. maybe i just got too used to it.

you had a family, though?

i know a little bit about what you’re feeling. i’m sorry.

i was right about you the first time, you know. you are rude.

i’ve been called worse.

i actually came to apologize for my outburst.

i should have held my tongue, so i apologize.

i’m a nice person. i am. i know how to be nice!

so, how do we proceed?

i want to go home.

have you been drinking again?

i was under the impression it was destroyed.

you’re guessing though.

fortunate, then, that i chose not to kill and eat you, (name).

such a merry band we are.

eat shit and die.

yes, fuck you.

i’ll be honest with you. i don’t have a better idea.

i’m trusting you, (name). don’t make me regret it.

everybody regrets it in the end.

you will cease this infantile squabbling.

and what insights have you, (name)?

i will speak with you alone.

i suspect he still wants to sleep with me.

what advantage does my anger buy you?

i’m still not completely clear on why you don’t catch fire in the daylight.

god, you still think you’re funny.

he’s gone mad, and from that, there’s no recovering him.

oh, the world will still be here, (name). trees will still grow, birds will still sing, animals will still hump away in the undergrowth. but you won’t be here. none of you.

the sun will still set, but you will not see it rise.

you hear that?

no further.

what did you think you were gonna learn?

please don’t be angry with me anymore.

even after everything in your life, you’re still a sweet boy who believes in love.

i’m sorry. i just wanted to help.

i love you too. that’s why i do this. this is how i love you.

you stop fucking around, you do as you’re told, you never use the word ‘love’ again.

no such thing as love in this world.

[why do you do that?] / choosing my own actions and injuring myself to a world of horrors.

you struggled so hard to come back home.

you came home regardless.

do you really think that’s enough, (name)?

your intellect cannot be denied.

i believe you are actually worried about (name).

the fire in him has gone out somehow. it’s as if we’re looking at the embers of the man.

there are things we can do that don’t require his decisions.

why are you so fascinated by that?

we need to ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands.

is it you?

tell me what you need.

they must be stopped. culled.

my fellow humans have never treated me with love, and i’ve punished them for it.

i wouldn’t have them suffer.

will you join me?

it’s hard to imagine you playing.

his was your home?

you grew up here?

wasn’t the worst way to grow up.

who remembers that sort of thing?

is there a point to these questions?

i’m disturbed to find that o had more of a childhood than you did.

just help me clear it.

i didn’t know it was a fucking magic door.

are you coming or what?

my family. all that’s left of us.

bloody hell. is that what i think it is?

careful, (name). you almost sounded excited about something.

it couldn’t be. could it?

what on earth is that ugly thing.

you’re not even a little bit impressed?

may i speak to you?

are you going to continue questioning me?

get out before i slit you up the middle and bite out your heart.

this isn’t a war, (name). it’s a suicide.

i’m not gonna fuck you, (name). i’m too pissed off.

you stupid bastard.

what the hell was that for?

no, no, no, that’s not fair.

just tell me what it is.

you’re a cockwart, (name).

you are an adult. you do not have to rise to his every barb.

he’s pissing me off like it’s his job, (name).

i just want to do my work, (name).

you don’t say something like that out loud in this place!

say the words. so that i know you are still my friend.

you saved me. the only person in the world who ever lifted a hand to protect me from anything.

you are still my friend.

i have no fear of death. it always sounded peaceful to me.

i will be loyal to the end — and beyond.

they will never see us coming, and fuck them if they do.

no one has a right to your true beliefs.

you’ve given me purpose, and treated me with respect. a lie wouldn’t change that.

you don’t owe anybody anything.

i believe you are the only one who grasps the necessity of it all.

are you still my friend?

are you okay?

tired. a … bit lonely.

my dusty old sheet is big enough for two.

i’m not sad.

i wish you would stop doing that. it’s sick.

you would betray (name)?

it’s not betrayal unless the old man decides to be difficult about it.

thank you for showing me the truth.

my work here is almost done.

the end of this will be practically merciful.

i am also concerned that you enjoy him too much.

am i not working hard enough?

you’re afraid. you worry that you might have made the wrong choice.

perhaps you’re just an angry teenager in an adults body.

i don’t think i’ve heard you tell a joke before.

(name), you are a marvel.

you have caused this to happen. be proud.

i admire your resolve.

but those times are long gone.

i no longer have the strength for these petty decisions.

that’s all that matters. they all have to die.

do you know why i had to do it?

when i say ‘what’, that doesn’t mean i’d like to ask even more questions.

would you please — oh, you are the most annoying — just stop!

see? god hates me!

are you asking my advice?

so long as it brings silence.

well, i’m armed with a … a stick. so i’ll understand if you want to run away now.

you have nothing left but me.

you did it, (name).

i’m pretty good, right?

you’re the best.

they will not reach you while i live.

you would give your mortal life to preserve my immortal one?

you have a soul, i think.

perhaps you simple deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.

i choose my death, as i chose my life.

i told you before, i won’t let you do it.

i grieve with you … but i won’t let you do this.

you couldn’t stop me before.

i am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.

you didn’t kill me before. you’re not going to kill me now.

you want this to end as much as i do.

this entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.

not quite close enough.

my boy. i’m — i’m killing my boy.

i must already be dead.

(name), step back. let me finish this.

you’ve saved countless lives. but it’s alright to mourn the man, too.

he died a long time ago.

what do you think he’s going to do now?

i do not break things.

you’re giving me your home?

protect it. make something out of it.

keep moving. i’m not in the mood.

what do we have here?

is that really the best you have?

i simply don’t have time to deal with shit like you every time i want to sit and take a drink.

why would i want to stop now?

how on earth did you come to that decision?

this is the closest thing i’ve had to a life in … i don’t know when.

you’re the closest i’ve had to a friend.

so they’re barricading their homes and sharpening their stakes? that’s fair. can’t say i blame them.

you won’t stake me to death with that, (name).

where will you go?

i’ve been thinking about it all day. i still don’t understand.

(name) is dead. does that trouble you?

poor (name). stand up for me.

don’t worry. we’ll look after you.

(name) — what are you doing?

go to hell!

you are my pet now.

be well, my friend.

don’t let that idiot get you into too much trouble.

is this what i’ve got to look forward to?

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp ask meme #rp prompts #roleplay memes #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #ask memes #ask prompt

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readingreylo · 1 year

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Grab the tissues....

Who's ready for some Angsty fics?

But don't worry, I'm a big baby so all these have HEAs.

There's just something about the extreme lows that make the happy endings so much more sweeter.

I didn't add my 2 cents to each of these recs because I am pretty sure every comment would be "It hurts so good 😭😘👌"

Oh and whoops these are all AUs ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

We will start things off with the fic that inspired this entire list...

(The rest are organized shortest to longest)

The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explict | 160k | Complete | Western AU | Oregon Trail | Strangers to lovers | Marriage of convenience | Secrets/lies | Outlaws | Angst | Action/violence/drama | Languid pace | Rey POV | Rey Niima's husband dies on the Oregon Trail. She settles on marrying the mysterious Ben Solo to continue the journey. They might have come togther by chance but their chemistry and devotion are undeniable. But of course Ben has a past - he is not a respectable banker, but the outlaw Kylo Ren and Rey has gotten caught up in one of his schemes. After seemingly freeing him from the First Order Rey must seek out her own happiness -- even if that mean leaving her husband behind.

Happy Reading!

#reylo fic recs #reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fandom #jess made something

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themirokai · 1 year

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More Matthew the Emotional Support Raven? Don’t mind if I do! @mashumaru sent me this cute raven video, for which I am very grateful. She had tagged it Hob & Matthew (which totally tracks) but wanted to know if I could do a Dream & Matthew story with it. And I did! But it got a teensy tinsy bit angsty. Don’t worry, it ends as fluffy as the rest of these ficlets.

There is one small detail from my “Shiny Things” ficlet in here. That one isn’t required reading but I do hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t already.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @argylepiratewd who has proofreading commissions open now! WD made this story so much better and they can do the same for your work. I highly recommend them for all your proofreading needs. Info here, check it out!

Matthew hopped along beside Lord Morpheus as he strode through the Palace of the Dreaming.

“So, we’re leaving now?”

“We are not going anywhere, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said from under his helm. “You are to remain in the Dreaming.”

“What?!” Matthew stopped, then had to fly a few feet to catch up. “If you’re not staying in the Dreaming, then I’m not staying in the Dreaming.”

“I frequently travel to the waking world without you.”

“Yeah, to see your boyfriend, who I still haven’t met! And I know you’re not going for a hanky-panky session because you’re all suited up!”

Lord Morpheus halted in his tracks and turned slowly to face Matthew. “A ‘hanky-panky session’?”

Matthew was not about to let himself be sidetracked. “A date! A romantic tryst! Whatever! You’re not doing that because you’ve got all the finery and the spine mask!” He gestured with his wing to encompass the flowing black robe, the folds of which seemed structurally impossible. He noted with a little flare of pride that Lord Morpheus was wearing the sapphire Matthew had given him.

Lord Morpheus sighed and went down on one knee, just as he had the first night Matthew had met him. He reached up to remove the helm and tucked it under his arm.

“I am going to Faerie, Matthew. I do not need you to accompany me, nor do I wish it.”

Matthew shifted from foot to foot and dropped his head, looking up at Lord Morpheus out of the corner of his eye. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Lord Morpheus chuckled and ran a finger over Matthew’s beak. “You have done nothing wrong. It is simply that this journey would not be safe for you.”

“If it’s not safe, then all the more reason for me to come with you!” Matthew exploded with an unintentional flap of his wings.

“Matthew—”

“Boss, I’ve been with you to literal Hell for you to fight literal Lucifer!”

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said, with a small smile as he stroked Matthew’s beak again, “but when we went to Hell I was not at my full strength, and there was much more jeopardy to me than there was to you.”

Matthew cocked his head. “Why would I be in jeopardy? Do faeries hate birds or something?”

“The Faerie Court functions on a set of incredibly strict rules, Matthew. Failure to follow the rules to the exact letter can result in one’s bound servitude, imprisonment, or death.”

Matthew involuntarily ruffled his feathers.

“And you, my raven,” Lord Morpheus continued with a gentle tap to Matthew’s beak, “have many strengths, but adherence to rules is not among them.”

“But—”

Lord Morpheus stood and put the helm back on. “I shall return in a few days, Matthew. You will help Lucienne keep an eye on things in the Dreaming for me while I am away.” He reached inside his robe for a handful of sand.

Matthew couldn’t just let him go—not if he was only going alone because he thought Matthew couldn’t behave himself. With a flap of his wings, and before he could second guess himself, Matthew leapt and attached his beak to the index finger of Lord Morpheus’s free hand. He gripped hard enough to hang from the finger, but not hard enough to hurt. He hoped. He wasn’t even sure if Lord Morpheus could be hurt in the Dreaming.

Slowly, Lord Morpheus raised his hand to bring the dangling Matthew up to his eye level.

“You realize that you are rather spectacularly proving my point, Matthew?”

“I hro’is I ‘e ‘oo’,” Matthew tried to pronounce around the finger.

Lord Morpheus brought his other hand up and wrapped it around Matthew’s body, pinning his wings in place. He gave a firm tug, and Matthew released his finger.

“Boss, I promise I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll follow the rules! Please, just don’t go alone.”

Lord Morpheus took a breath, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. “Matthew,” he said, voice reverberating more than usual, “I realize that when you first met me I was in an extremely vulnerable position. But I would remind you that I am older than the stars in the sky and infinitely more powerful. Such vulnerability was an aberration that shall not happen again. This means that if I tell you that I require that you stay in the Dreaming, then you shall stay in the Dreaming. Am I understood?”

Matthew bowed his head, worry and guilt twisting his guts. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”

Lord Morpheus stooped to put him down and drew a handful of sand from inside his robe as he straightened. “I shall return in a few days’ time.”

With that, the sand swirled around him, and he was gone.

“Lucienne, when you were a raven, did you ever go to Faerie with Lord Morpheus?”

“Hm. Yes, a few times, I think.” She continued arranging books on shelves without looking at him.

“And perfect Jessamy? She must have gone a bunch.”

“Yes, of course. Why are you—oh.” Lucienne turned to him. “He didn’t take you.”

“And he was being nice about it and then I was an idiot and grabbed onto his finger as he was leaving like a—like a—god, I don’t know. Like a fucking toddler or something!” Matthew felt his wings open in his agitation. “And he got pissed because anyone would but it’s him. I am such a fucking idiot.”

Matthew threw himself down on the floor on his side and Lucienne crouched beside him.

“How did you grab his finger?” she asked.

“In my beak.” Matthew brought a wing up to cover his face. “Like a fucking idiot.”

He heard a strangled sound and moved his wing to see Lucienne trying to stifle her laughter.

“It’s not funny! He’s going to unmake me!”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Matthew,” she said, kindly.

“It was so bad. Lucienne, I’m a failure as a raven. Just like I was a failure as a person.”

“Enough of that,” she said, standing. “Come on, get off the floor.”

Matthew groaned and covered his face with his wing again. “Maybe I can just sink into the wood and become part of the library.”

“Matthew,” Lucienne said sternly, “get up. Now.”

With an aggrieved sigh, Matthew hauled himself to his feet. She patted the back of a chair beside her, and with another sigh, Matthew flew up to it, so that he was nearly level with her eyes.

“You are not a failure as a raven,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. “You are a modern raven, and you are the raven he needs now.”

“But he can’t even take me out of the realm because I’d apparently be a danger to myself!”

“He can’t take you to Faerie, but truly, he doesn’t need you there. He was concerned about your ability to adhere to all the rules, correct?” On Matthew’s nod, she continued. “Do you know who is better than anyone in this or any other universe at following rules?”

“Lord Morpheus,” Matthew muttered.

“That’s correct. He has had good relations with the King and Queen of Faerie for millennia. He really is not in any danger on this trip.”

Matthew searched her face for sincerity and found it. If Lucienne wasn’t worried, he knew he didn’t need to be. Matthew took a deep breath and nodded.

“Matthew, Lord Morpheus does not need a raven who can follow the strictures of Faerie at this point in his immensely long life. He needs a raven who can help him understand modern humanity. He was disconnected from the collective unconscious for over a century. He is out of touch, and he knows it. He’s gotten better in the time he’s been back, but he still needs assistance. He still needs you.”

“As long as he doesn’t unmake me for biting him,” Matthew grumbled.

Lucienne rolled her eyes. “You didn’t bite him,” she admonished. “You tried to hold on to him. It was certainly foolish, but Lord Morpheus has spent enough millennia in the company of ravens to see the difference clearly.”

Some of the worry began to fade from Matthew’s chest.

“He knows you love him, Matthew. And he cares for you, too.”

Matthew gave a long exhale and thought of hours spent getting his feathers stroked. “Yeah…yeah, I guess.”

Matthew was flying laps around the outside of the palace when his ears popped with a change in the barometric pressure. Lord Morpheus had returned to the Dreaming. The gravitational pull was immediate, but Matthew stopped himself from following it. He knew what Lucienne had said, but he still wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get. Before he could dwell on the subject, an unmistakable voice sounded in his head.

“Matthew. Attend me.”

At least that was one decision he didn’t have to make. Matthew wheeled in the air, and rode the current of the Dreaming to Lord Morpheus.

He found the King of Dreams seated on his throne. Matthew landed a few steps down from the top of the dais. He spread his wings and bowed.

“My lord.”

“That has never been necessary, Matthew, nor is it now.”

Matthew ducked his head. “Thank you.” He took a breath and looked up. “I’m really sorry. About before you left. I was way out of line. I get that, and I want you to know it won’t happen again.”

“I know that, Matthew. Jessamy was my raven for hundreds of years, as was Lucienne. You and I are still learning each other.”

Lord Morpheus extended his hand, inviting Matthew to perch.

“Come, Matthew.”

Matthew landed with a few wing flaps. From his other hand, Lord Morpheus produced a loop of silver chain, about the size of a bracelet. The chain was intricately braided and sparkled in the shifting light of the throne room.

“It’s beautiful,” Matthew breathed.

“I traded a dream for it in Faerie. It is for you.” Lord Morpheus slipped the chain over Matthew’s head so that it sat around his neck.

“Oh, Boss, thank you! I love it!”

“It should be small enough to hide under your feathers when you are in the waking world.”

“Or I could make all the lady ravens swoon!” Matthew said, tilting his head to admire the silver against the black feathers of his chest.

Lord Morpheus chuckled as he stood. “Come, Matthew,” he said, transferring the raven to his shoulder, “we have work to do.”

“Yes, Boss!” Matthew cawed happily.

~~~~

UPDATE: This story has art now!

The detail of Morpheus bringing Matthew a gift came from @wyvernquill 's tags on this awesome art they did of the “Shiny Things” Emotional Support Raven ficlet.

Master Post of Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Ficlets.

As of posting, I am out of raven prompts. Have you seen a picture or a video of a raven? If you send it to me, I will use it to write a ficlet!

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lucienne #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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writereleaserepeat · 9 months

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Fan Mail

Fan work based on the Kane & Jim series by @whumpsday . I’m always so inspired by K&J, both in how to make a compelling story and how to be a better author. Please go read the original K&J before reading this - I promise you the investment of time is worth it. Some creative liberties and departures from canon have been taken to make this story work.

Summary: Jim gets a special delivery - fan mail. Kane is horrified when he finds out what this means, and Liz manages to make it worse.

WC: ~5500

CW: recovery from abuse and torture, PTSD symptoms, hate comments

Kane heard the familiar hum of the mail truck long before it reached the end of Jim’s driveway. The poor excuse for a vehicle sputtered along with its usual concerning wheeze. After hearing it for the first time, Kane had been waiting for the day when it inevitably gave out for good. In the meantime, however, it would continue to deposit a meager collection of mass-mailed pamphlets in Jim’s mailbox once every weekday.

“Is that the mail?” Jim called from the kitchen, having apparently heard the telltale rattling on his own.

“Yes,” Kane answered simply, unsurprised that even a human was able to hear the metallic beast’s pathetic keening. After a moment he heard the vehicle’s direction of travel change, and Kane’s red eyes widened as his heart accelerated in his chest.

“It’s… it’s coming up the driveway.” His words came out strangled by fear, terror at the sudden and unexpected.

Of the days Kane had spent tucked away inside, hiding from the daylight that blazed beyond dark curtains, he’d come to embrace the comfort routine. He heard when the birds first began their song before dawn, and he listened to the wind shift through the nearby trees as mid-morning became afternoon. He found melodies in Jim’s footsteps upstairs, tracing the man’s path throughout the home each morning before he fetched Kane from the basement. Crickets began their crescendo as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, signaling that it would soon be time for Kane to return to the basement once more.

But the mail truck was supposed to pause for a moment before carrying on down the road. It wasn’t supposed to travel across Jim’s driveway and sputter ever-closer, carrying another human and goodness knows what else in its belly.

“Oh, Liz and Laken must have sent me a package,” Jim said with nonchalance. “Blaise drops any packages off on the porch, instead of the mailbox.”

The fact that Jim sounded unfazed did little to settle Kane’s growing panic.

“A package? But- but don’t they visit often? Why would they mail something when they can just bring it over?” The questions were all hiding Kane’s true concern: what’s the catch? How is this going to hurt me? Are the hunters finally coming back for me?

There was the brief sound of Jim drying his hands on the kitchen towel, and then he reemerged in the living room with a half-smile on his face. This one seemed genuine, kind.

“I think they want me to have a pleasant surprise now and then. I know money is tight for them, but they always find new ways to try and lift my spirits. Besides, if I refuse, Liz just starts counting how many birthdays and Christmases I missed.”

“Oh.” Kane’s anxiety coiled inside him like a spring. It was a painful reminder of those years he’d stolen from Jim, the years that Liz would never be able to return with a thousand well-meaning gifts. It was a reminder that Kane was a monster, and always would be.

The vampire soon realized that Jim had picked up on his nerves. He’d drawn the jacket tight around himself, pulled the hood in close to his cheeks, formed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It was like Kane was a child, trying to hide from the monsters in his closet.

Jim ran a hand through his curls and gestured halfheartedly towards the basement door.

“Why don’t you go downstairs for a few minutes? I’ll have to open the front door to get the package, and I don’t want you to worry about the sun.”

That was all the convincing that Kane needed. He willingly went down the stairs, past the silver door, and down into the dark recesses of his basement – no, the basement. He even let out a breath of relief as he heard the lock secured.

Moments later the rattling of the mail truck ceased to an idle hum. Kane could then hear Jim chatting with a stranger, their smiles evident in their tones.

“Hey, Blaise, how are you?”

“Doin’ just fine, Jim. I have a package here for you, not too heavy, but figured I’d spare you the walk down the driveway.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay, the missus packed me some water for the road this morning.”

“Alright, if you say so. You take care now.”

“Likewise. Enjoy your afternoon, the weather out here is beautiful.”

Both of their voices were warm, friendly, alight with the jovial tone of passing acquaintances. The front door closed and Jim walked back to the kitchen, dropped his package and letters on the kitchen table, and then the lock on the basement door slid open.

“You can come up now. Blaise is gone, and the door is closed.”

Kane trotted up the stares obediently, relieved that Jim had been telling the truth, but simultaneously burning with shame. He’d made Jim go out of his way for something as simple as getting the mail, all because he couldn’t quell his own anxieties. Kane did nothing but complicate Jim’s life, all he’d done for the last decade was complicate it, and he wasn’t poised to stop any time soon. He felt the full weight of his burdensome existence deep in his stomach.

Although he’d heard the front door close, Kane swept his eyes carefully around the room before letting the basement door shut behind him. True to his senses, and much to his relief, there was no sunlight leaking into the house. Further inspection revealed pamphlets and a large box on the kitchen table, but Jim had seemingly ignored them in favor of the meal he had working on the stove.

The question dropped from his lips before Kane could swallow it. As anxious as the unexpected mail drop had made him, he was just as curious what Liz could have sent along through the post.

“Aren’t- aren’t you going to open it?”

“Nope,” Jim said without hesitation, and without apparent annoyance at Kane’s prodding inquiry. “It’s not a gift. Its garbage, and the garbage is where it’s going as soon as I’m done cooking these onions.”

“I can take care of that for you,” Kane offered, desperate to be helpful, especially after the scene he’d nearly caused because of a simple package delivery. Whatever was in that box was definitely a sensitive subject for Jim: Kane could hear it in the human’s rapid heartbeat and he could see it in his tensed muscles.

“It’s fine,” Jim said, his voice wavering a touch. “But… sure. Just dump the contents right into the trash, and put the box in after it, alright? Might have to cut the box down for it to fit.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Eager to assist, and pleased he’d remembered to use Jim’s name under pressure, Kane sprang forward and whisked the box off the table. His talons effortlessly split the tape and he proceeded to shake out the contents into the nearby trash can.

Much to Kane’s surprise, a pile of letters came fluttering out of the box, and they fell in piles onto the waste that was already sitting in the bottom of the trash bag. The panic that had just been quelled re-emerged. Kane drew in a breath and let out a shaking whimper. There was no way Jim had meant to throw out letters, right? They were handwritten, addressed to him by name, sealed with stamps and beautifully scrawling script.

“I- Jim- I don’t think this is- these are letters! They’re addressed to you!” His nervous exclamation was louder than he intended, but Kane wasted no time in digging his arms down into the wastebin, fishing out fistfuls of letters in a hurried attempt to save them.

When he glanced up, Jim had a scornful look on his face, which made Kane shirk back.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why they’re trash. Put ‘em back, stuff ‘em to the bottom of the can, and get the bag ready to go to the curb.”

Kane had to force a swallow, and he quickly dropped the letters back into the bottom of the trash. The rest followed, and he tore the cardboard box into pieces that he piled on top of the letters. Whatever they were, Jim didn’t want to see them, much less acknowledge them.

Before he closed the lid he noted the return address on the box. It fluttered to the bottom of the trash just like the letters, but not before Kane had taken in the sender’s identity.

Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

That created more questions than it answered. However, Kane knew he had already pushed on Jim’s good graces with this matter, and the thought of upsetting him further made the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stand up straight. If this was something Jim wanted to keep a secret, Kane would let him have that secret.

Still, the curiosity gnawed at him like hunger.

---

Five days after the incident with the mysterious package, and four days since any remaining evidence had been schlepped outside for trash collection, Liz and Laken came to visit. Kane had been gradually growing accustomed to their visits, including Liz’s caustic stare. It was no less than he deserved.

The two hunters had just come off shift, so it was quite early in the morning when they’d arrived. Kane had heard their arrival upstairs, and he’d listened with earnest pining as the family laughed and joked and made their way through the otherwise quiet house.

Kane had been allowed upstairs after sunrise. The ankle restraints were familiar by now, even comfortable, and he was able to sit on Jim’s couch in silence as Laken retold stories of the last week in town. He was sure the interest was apparent on his face, but he sat rapt through Laken’s retelling of the butcher who had finally gained the courage to ask the diner owner on a date. Although the entire affair could have lasted no more than two minutes, Laken had managed to stretch the tale into almost ten minutes, and their impassioned dramatization was the most relaxed Kane had been in days.

It was pleasant. There was no denying how nice it was, sat like a friend among these three humans, even if they largely ignored Kane’s presence. He was soaking in the laughter, the smiles, no matter the fact none were directed at him. Their blood smelled sweet, but not nearly as sweet as the joy Kane gained from listening to them laugh at something aside from his own pain.

The illusion of perfection was shattered when Jim finally piped up.

“Yeah, you won’t believe what I got in the mail this week. Another box of fan mail from the fuckin’ publishers. I told them months ago that I didn’t want them forwarding that shit anymore.” When he spoke he only sounded mildly irritated, at best, while Kane knew he’d been furious when the box had first arrived.

Kane immediately sat at attention, his calm dissipated, and he leaned forward as the siblings scowled in unison.

It had to be about the box and the letters, of course. There was no other noteworthy mail that Jim had received over the last week. “Them” could only mean one thing: Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

“Fuckers,” Liz grumbled, and she took a sip of her cold cola, her lips smudging the frost on the side of the glass. “You’d think they’d at least screen it, right? You know, actually look at what they’re sending you, not just stuff it in a box and hope all is well.”

Jim scoffed.

“I don’t want any of it. No praise, no love letters, nothing. They can burn it, for all I care. Just stop sending it to my doorstep.” There was no hiding the sheer disgust that dripped from every word.

This only piqued Kane’s interest further. Why would Birchwood Forest Publishing send Jim love letters? And if they were indeed love letters, why did Jim speak of them with such vehement hatred?

Of the humans in attendance, Laken seemed the least bothered by the cryptic discussion. They stood up and stretched before grabbing the now-empty plate in front of them.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab a beer and get the dishes started. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’ll be back once I take a leak,” Jim said, standing up alongside Laken.

“Guess that leaves me to babysit,” Liz said, to which the other humans laughed.

Kane’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He knew that Liz’s words were in jest, but dread knotted in his stomach nonetheless. As Jim and Laken left, Kane wrung his hands together. Being left alone with Liz was always scary. Even now, before Jim had left the room, her glare burned holes in his tattered soul.

“So, do you even know what Jim was talking about? The letters?” She asked once both humans were out of earshot. The accusatory tone was yet another clue Kane hadn’t picked up on before – whatever this was about, it was because of him.

When it came to Jim’s endless pain and suffering, what wasn’t Kane’s fault?

“J- Jim got a package the other day,” Kane started. There was a soft waver to his voice, but he pushed on. “It was large box that came with the mail. He told me to throw it away, and I did- well, I started to. I thought he made a mistake, because it was letters, and they were addressed to him. But… he made it very clear that he didn’t make a mistake. He told me to throw them out without even looking at them.”

“Mhm.” Liz leaned back into the chair and crossed her right leg across her lap. “Do you know what those letters were?”

For a moment, Kane was tempted to lie. After all, Jim had told him to throw the letters out, not look at who the box was from. He didn’t want to admit that he had learned more than he’d been allowed to. At the same time, he felt as though Liz could stare through him and all his secrets.

“No. All I know is that the box was sent from Birchwood Forest Publishing, and that it made Jim very upset.” This confession came just as quietly, an admission that he’d snooped where he shouldn’t have.

“You know that Jim published a book, right? A book about what you did to him. A book about how he survived, despite that.” There was no missing the accusatory tone in her voice, that anger she never quite abandoned when speaking to Kane. It was a sound that made him want to sink into the earth and never reemerge.

Yes, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear that I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me please please please…

“Yes,” he squeaked out, and pulled his hands close to his chest, as though that could protect him from a hunter’s stake.

“Well, you see,” Liz continued with another sip of her cola, “the book was a bestseller. Everyone loved the story. A human escaping from vampire territory? It was unheard of, especially after five years in captivity. It sold like wildfire the first year, and the sales haven’t slowed down since. But that level of notoriety, well, it causes problems too.”

Of course it did. Everything Kane touched caused problems for Jim. Even the very story of Jim’s captivity, and his attempt to make some profit from it, caused years of cascading pain.

“I’m sorry.” This time he couldn’t stop the apology slipping from his lips. It burned in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. There would never be enough apologies in the world for what he’d done, and the thought that it continued to this day ached in Kane’s very bones.

“You don’t know the half of it.” That acidic abrasiveness gave Liz’s voice an edge. “The book had only been out for a week when the publishers forwarded the first box of fan mail. That’s what they called it, anyway. These were letters that readers had sent in to the publisher, addressed for Jim, because the publishers are some of the only people in the world with his address. They gathered up the letters, put them in a box, and sent them his way. You should have seen the way he smiled, thinking that maybe he’d inspired hope in some people, or that he’d find someone else who went through the same thing.

“Sure, some of the letters were like that. They told him how brave he was, how they could never imagine being so strong, or that his story gave him hope that their missing relatives would come home safe one day. But there were awful letters too. People who wrote solely to tell him that he should have died in captivity. Vampires who snuck into human territory to send words of vitriol for all humans, not just Jim. There were letters that accused him of being a liar, that he’d made up all of that suffering for the fame. For every kind letter of inspiration, there were at least two more than made him sick. They hurt him all over again.”

Kane’s head spun. He’d known that humans could be cruel – he knew that intimately well after his stint with the hunters – but he had no idea they could be so cruel to one another. And because of his own ignorance, not just trusting Jim when he said to throw the letters out, he’d dredged up all that hurt again.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, wishing he could hide his face. “I swear, I didn’t- I didn’t know. I never meant for people to hurt him like that, I swear, if I could stop it-”

Liz cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“For once, this isn’t your fault. I mean, it is your fault. But people being dicks for the sake of being dicks? Humans have done that to each other since the beginning of time. Still, it doesn’t mean that Jim can handle it, not anymore.”

That sisterly softness crept into her expression, sadness clouding her eyes. She didn’t look up at Kane, but instead down at the floor, focused intently on the edges of Jim’s rug.

“I won’t ask about the letters again,” Kane assured her. If he’d learned anything from his time in captivity, it had been that making mistakes was unforgivable. Jim had been kind enough to let the letters slide this once, and without comment. If Jim had been upset by Kane’s inquiries about the letters, he’d hidden it well.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Liz said. “If you do, and he gets upset, you’ll have to deal with me.”

It was a threat that was often left unspoken, so Kane didn’t hesitate to acknowledge it.

“Yes, I understand.”

After a moment of thought, Liz tilted her head to the side.

“Have you read his book?”

“N- no, I haven’t. The only books I’ve read are the ones he’s given me.” These were the words that Kane managed to say, but even more ran through his mind.

I don’t think I can read Jim’s book, not by myself. You’d have to tie me down and read it to me so I can’t run away from what I did. It just hurts too much. Haven’t I already paid the price? Do I just have to keep reliving my sins over, and over, and over again? Is this the rest of my life?

“Well, maybe you should one day.” Liz spoke in a noncommittal tone. “I know he has some advanced reader copies still up in his attic.”

Kane was spared having to answer as Jim walked back into the room. He patted water off his hands onto his jeans, and stared at Liz with a smirk.

“What, not helping Laken with the dishes?”

“It’s their turn,” Liz shot back without a moment’s hesitation. “I did them last time!”

The siblings continued their chatter and Kane took the opportunity to retreat into himself, pushing out the questions and the discomforts from his time with Liz. If he sat with them for much longer, he’d be sick.

---

Kane had excused himself to the basement looking rather ill, and Jim hadn’t pushed the issue. The hood on the jacket had come up and Kane had wrapped his arms around himself, which Jim had come to recognize meant Kane was having a bad time. Given that it had only happened after he’d left the vampire with Liz, however, he had his suspicions as to the sudden cause.

“What did you say to Kane?” he asked, giving Liz a pointed look. Her shrug and averted gaze told him that she’d pushed something she shouldn’t have.

“I just told him about the hate mail.”

“Dammit, Liz,” Jim groaned. “You think the guy doesn’t have enough guilt? I tried not to tell him when it came in the mail the other day, and that was on purpose. I can promise you he’s blaming himself for it now, and I’m sure that’s why he left early.”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault,” she said, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, like that’s going to make a difference in his fucked-up brain! Ask me how I know.”

“He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. Sometimes, those consequences are so far removed from the action that they’re hard to conceive. I just wanted him to see that his actions have long-lasting effects in ways he’d never have expected.”

Jim sighed and brought a hand up to his neck. In his discomfort, even in front of his sister, he was compelled to cover his scar.

“He sees those consequences. He sees them every day, and I don’t think he needs any more punishment than he’s received. You’re not here all day with him. The guilt, and the trauma, they’re eating him alive. Every. Day.”

“If you say so,” Liz said. She wrapped her arms around him, a sensation he’d never grow tired of. “But if you ever need any help keeping him in line, you call me, alright?”

“I know,” he said, and closed his eyes. All he could see was Kane cowering away from him on the first day he’d been home. How was that the same vampire that had tortured him for years? “I know.”

---

“Hey, Kane?” Jim called down the basement stairs, unwilling to enter Kane’s space without permission or good reason. “Are you alright? Liz and Laken are gone, you can come up if you’d like.”

It took a few moments for the vampire to take him up on the offer. There was the telltale shuffle of chains around his ankles, which he hadn’t removed before Kane retreated to the basement. Those familiar red eyes appeared at the base of the stairs and Kane made his way up slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not in trouble,” Jim reassured him, hoping to head off any nervous questions before they emerged. “I’m not upset that you and Liz talked about the letters.”

“Oh. Okay, I’m… Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jim said as Kane tip-toed into the first floor of the house. “You’re allowed to talk with my sister about things like that. Hell, you’re allowed to talk to me. You know you’re allowed to ask questions, right? If I’m uncomfortable I won’t answer, but you’re still allowed to ask. You’ll never be punished for asking.”

“Yes, Jim.” The answer wasn’t particularly convincing, but Jim wasn’t going to push it. He carried on instead.

“I know I was upset when the mail came, but you were still allowed to ask about it if you had questions. I would have told you why I was uipset. I was mad at the publishers for sending it, not at you for checking about the letters.”

Kane’s red eyes watered with sadness, but tears didn’t fall.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said, all but blubbering. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel to you. I know it’s- it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jim tried to stress this, despite the small voice in his mind wanting to scream. Yes, of course it was Kane’s fault, in some distant way. But the Kane in that stupid book, the Kane that the rest of the world got to know, wasn’t the Kane that stood before him today. This Kane could hardly get a word out without sobbing.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you for not getting upset.”

“Not upset at you,” Jim reiterated. “If you have any questions about the book, or the letters, you can ask. I might not be able to answer all of your questions, but I’ll try.”

He watched carefully as Kane looked down at the floor, then back up to Jim, and then back to the floor again.

“I… I had an idea.”

“Oh?” This came as a surprise to Jim. There were some things Kane had taken an initiative with, such as being useful around the house, but he rarely contributed any attempted ingenuity.

Kane fidgeted where he stood before continuing.

“You, uhm, did you like some of the letters? The nice ones?”

It had been a year since Jim had even opened one of the boxes from the publisher, and even longer since he’d read any letters the boxes contained. Even if there were a dozen letters praising his courage and complimenting the storytelling, one hate-filled page was enough to send him spiraling. It got to the point where even seeing the box in the mail spiked his anxiety and brought on nightmares.

It took a letter from a vampire, one who had managed to post the letter into human territory, to make Jim swear off opening them altogether. Those were the letters he remembered, not the kind ones. Those letters were the ones that gave him new nightmares.

“I suppose so,” Jim admitted with a sigh. “It was nice to hear from people who were supportive. I used to wonder if putting that book out into the world was the right thing to do, but enough letters convinced me that it did some good. I’d like to think it helped some people, wherever they might be in their lives. Maybe it still is.”

“Then… maybe I could screen the letters for you?”

This was something that Jim hadn’t foreseen. He stared at Kane with wide eyes, blinking in disbelief.

“Wait. You mean you’d read through all of the letters?”

“Yes, Jim.” Kane’s voice rose in pitch, likely a combination of nerves and excitement. “I could read all the letters, and only pass on the ones that are kind and supportive. You’d never even see the other ones.”

An ache blossomed in Jim’s heart. This wasn’t just groveling and begging: it was Kane offering himself up as a barricade between Jim and the rest of the world, and he was doing so without any care for his own self-preservation.

Jim didn’t need prompting to remember some of the other letters he received. Letters that were neither expressing hatred towards himself nor admiration. There’d also been the letters from the vampire hunters and various victims, all dripping with hatred for not just all vampires, but Kane specifically. Undoubtedly, there were similar letters in the box that had been discarded just a few nights prior.

No words of affirmation from strangers would be worth putting Kane through that. Not now, not after everything had changed. Kane’s well-being was worth more than any hollow words of praise.

“No, man, it’s all trash. I don’t need that shit.” His smile felt painfully fake, but he put it on for Kane’s sake. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

A pause spanned the air between them as Kane’s distress prickled.

“And, uhm, Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Liz said I should… she said I should read the book. You never gave it to me, so, uhm, I’m not sure if you wanted me to, but I… I would do it, if that’s what you wanted. It would… it would be hard, I’m not sure I could do it on my own, but I’d try, I’d really try, if you said to.” The tears Kane was holding back were obvious as his voice cracked. He couldn’t even look up at Jim as he spoke.

Dammit, Liz. Part of Jim wished she was still in his living room so he could ask her what the hell she’d been thinking when she said that.

Instead, he had to draw a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Yes, this was a sensitive subject, but he was ready to navigate it. Jim knew he was healing, because he patted Kane gently on the top of his head instead of screaming. There were things in those pages neither would be able to bear revisiting.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never read the whole thing,” he ended up saying. He was painfully aware of just how much in the book could wind up traumatizing them both if they ever dared to read the words. “I would never, ever ask you to read that. It was something from a different time in my life. A different time in your life. So long as the cheques keep coming in the mail, that’s all I’ll ever care about it.”

“Are you… are you sure?” The incredulity in Kane’s voice never ceased to break Jim’s heart all over again. Even after all this time in Jim’s home, it was like the vampire expected him to become as grotesque as the hunters.

“I’m sure.” Say it until you believe it. “It’s in the past now. For me, and for you.”

“I can handle the pain,” Kane choked out, tears coming in thick now. “I can, I swear. It’s the least I deserve, to try and understand…”

“No. I mean it. You’ve been through enough; no, we’ve both been through enough. The book is a paycheck, that’s it: it’s not a part of any fucked-up penance you think you deserve. I don’t want you to read it.”

“Okay. I understand, Jim.” The pain in Kane’s voice was still heavy, but Jim could bear it now. So long as the vampire was willing to back down, rather than spiral into a panic, they were making progress.

“Alright.” Another smile on Jim’s lips, this one feeling slightly more real. “As long as we’re on the same page – no pun intended.”

For the first time in almost two days Kane let out a sound that resembled a chuckle. He still didn’t meet Jim’s eyes, but that was okay. This is how their life was now. Baby steps, one day at a time.

“How about we get the kitchen properly cleaned up?” Jim offered, trying to brighten his tone. He couldn’t be jovial, not with his heart thundering so fast and the weight of the conversation on his shoulders, but he tried nonetheless. “I know Laken and Liz try to be good guests, but they never put the glasses back in the right spot.”

“Yes! I can do that.” Kane was still wiping tears from his cheeks, but his enthusiasm was impossible to miss. There was no mistaking his relief at being granted a task, one that he’d been praised for before.

Without another word, Kane darted off towards the kitchen on light feet, the jacket relaxed a touch across his shoulders.

Jim followed after him, trying not to think about the advanced readers’ copies of the book that sat in his attic.

#whump #whump writing #whump community #whump blog #kane & jim #whumpsday #tagging a creator who is so heralded in the community is honestly intimidating #I could have done better on this work... but I'm just glad I'm writing #I am so self conscious about this #I'm a very exhausted and out of practice author without a beta and alcohol in my veins #but kane and jim give me so much inspiration... I love this series so dearly #I have other ideas for fanworks but we'll see #thank you whumpsday for being so tremendous and such a cornerstone of the whump community #fanfiction

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