Of Kings and Beasts  -  Six

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings:  Angst, Fluff, Near-Death, Smut (Oral, F receiving), 

Word Count: 4K

A/n: I think that this series has a vibe that is very blue and grey. Like, if I could associate the feeling with a colour it would be like a dark blue and light grey. Idk it’s just how I feel. I also have a playlist that I might drop for this series cause it’s gotten me writing soooo much. Anyway, I loved writing this part and I hope you guys like it!!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

~*~

Your head tilts back, a melodic laugh falling from your pretty lips, and Steve smiles warmly down at you.

James watches from the library window as his husband drapes his cloak over your shoulders, keeping you warm as the two of you walk through the falling snow in the gardens.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” James turns to the voice, nodding and waving the doctor over.

“What I am about to tell you remains between us and us alone, do you understand?” The doctor nods slowly, confused beyond his wits.

“I have been experiencing thoughts that are not my own. I fear my mind... it is not mine. I know not how nor why, but I... I feel as if someone has taken hold of my mind and my body.” The doctor is silent, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Can you elaborate a bit, your Majesty? I... I don’t think I’m understanding.” James nods, sighing heavily.

“I... I have blank spaces in my memory. I awake in places where I have not gone and I have bruises and marks that I do not remember acquiring. It is as if I am not in control of my own body at times.” Banner ponders this for a moment before nodding.

“If you follow me, I’d like to do a few inspections to see if there is anything on the surface that could be of any use in figuring out what exactly is happening to you.”

The King follows the Doctor to his office, sitting down upon the operation table.

The Doctor’s cold fingers probe along the King’s hairline, feeling for any unusual bumps or scratches.

Just as he’s about to give up, he feels a ridge along the base of the King’s skull.

“Lean forward, Your Majesty.” He complies, leaning forward and dropping his head to give the Doctor a better view of the spot in question.

“An incision has been made here. And not by me. It has been stitched expertly. Were I not so trained I would have missed it. Your concerns are very valid, your Majesty. Should I call in King Steven and tell him the news?” James shakes his head immediately.

“If this has been done without even my noticing, it has been done by someone close and near. We cannot risk them finding out. Steve cannot know, and neither can (Y/n).” The very mention of your name has his blood boiling for some reason.

“Your Majesty... may I ask... what thoughts are you having that have been so concerning?” The King sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I fear that whoever has done this to me has done it with the intention of ruining my marriage and destroying my kingdom right from the inside. With the very thought of my husband or my wife, I am filled with anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It fades as days pass, and then it will be brought back out of the blue.” The Doctor purses his lips, trying to piece things together.

“May I take a few tests? I would like to analyze some samples. Perhaps they can bring us closer to figuring out what has happened.” The King nods, laying down and allowing the doctor to do whatever procedures he’d like.

“Must you go?” You ask sadly, looking down at where your hand is linked with Steve’s.

“Unfortunately I must. I would much rather spend time with you, however, the council has urgent matters that must be discussed. I will join you for dinner, on that I promise.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you think James will join us tonight?” You ask softly. Although he hasn’t been the kindest to you, you were enjoying the time you spent with him and are missing his presence.

You have hardly seen him since the day he and Steve came to your chambers.

“I cannot guarantee it. I hope he will, but I do not think we will be so lucky.” You nod sadly, sighing when he lets go of your hand.

He cups your cheeks in both of his warm hands, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Your heart races in your chest and you hold onto his wrists, leaning up into the gentle touch of his lips against your own.

Your eyes stay closed as he pulls away and he chuckles softly, pecking your lips once more before stepping backwards.

“I will come to find you as soon as I can, my love.” With that, he takes his leave. A smile spreads on your face and you sigh like a young maiden in love.

The thought takes you by surprise and you realize that you could very much be falling in love with Steve. He’s kind and gentle with you, and he’s taken the time to get to know you. He’s a man that you would willingly marry.

You’re getting ready to head back inside when you’re intercepted by a knight.

“Your Majesty.” He bows deeply then stands back up, a smile on his face.

“Do you require something?” You ask. He nods, offering you his arm.

“I have been ordered by King James to escort you to the stables. He wishes to go riding with you.” Your heart jumps in your chest, excitement filling you at the thought of getting to spend time with your other husband.

The knight is swift in his walk and you nearly have to jog to keep up.

You find it slightly strange that James would want to go riding when the snow is starting to fall harder, but you pay it no mind.

The knight helps you up onto your horse when you get to the stables, a smile on his face.

“The King wishes to meet you out past the stream. It is ten minutes west. He is eager to see you.” You nod, gathering the reins in your hands and thanking the knight as your horse leads you through the growing snow.

Steve’s cloak does little to keep you warm as the wind blows hard against you. Even through the layers of your dress and your coat, the coldness seeping through and chilling you straight to your core.

You’re not sure how many minutes go by, but the snow is thickening quickly, and before long you can hardly see in front of yourself.

“James!” You shout, trying desperately to find the King.

Your horse slows, not liking the storm. She turns you in a circle then huffs out a breath through her nose.

You’re about ready to head back when she suddenly raises up onto her hind legs, sending you falling to the snow beneath you.

You yelp out in pain as you break your fall with your arm, pain shooting up.

The wind howls in your ears as you push yourself to your knees, fear grabbing your heart and making it race as you struggle to see past your nose.

Snow gathers in thick clumps on your eyelashes, weighing them down and adding to the struggle.

“Aryo!” You call out for your horse, pushing yourself to your feet and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and preserve what little heat you have left.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re alone, your horse long gone to find shelter in the storm. You don’t blame her. You would have abandoned yourself too.

Teeth chattering, you try and find any trace of a path to follow back to the Palace as the storm rages on around you.

“Is that the Queen’s horse?” Nat asks, looking out the window at the blizzard.

James is on his feet in an instant, looking out the window then at the redhead.

“Where is she?”

She shakes her head, “Steve dismissed me. But he’s in a meeting now. I would have thought she’d come back but I haven’t seen her since.”

Before she’s finished speaking, James is sprinting down the stairs.

He pays no mind to the snow, feet pulling him to the stables as the stable boy tries to calm down your mare.

“Where is the Queen?” He asks desperately, shouting over the wind. The stable boy shakes his head.

“I was dismissed by a member of the guard. He had the queen with him and the last I saw she was riding west.”

The colour drains from the King’s face as he looks towards the dark clouds rolling in.

“Get me my horse. Now!” The boy turns and runs to get the King his horse, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

“You’re going out there?!” He turns around to face Natalia, nodding. “She’s out there and she may be in danger. I know Steve would not entrust anyone but Sam or you to escort her anywhere.” His conversation with Doctor Banner earlier rings in his mind and he feels fear claw its way up his throat.

“Have a warm bath prepped. Bring all the furs from the entire Palace to her chambers and have the fire ready. And find Steve as soon as you can.” The stable boy brings over James’ horse and the King is mounted upon his stallion and taking off into the storm.

You don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You can hardly feel your body. Everything is so heavy and you want to take a break, rest your eyes for a moment to regain your strength.

You stopped shivering a while ago.

Trudging through the knee-high snow, you blow warm air onto your frozen hands, trying desperately to warm something up. Shivering was so much better than this.

Something catches on your shoe and you fall face-forward into the snow with a yelp.

Instead of standing up, you roll onto your back, eyes half-open as snowflakes kiss your face.

Just a moment. That’s all you need. A moment to rest.

Your eyelids flutter closed and warmth settles into your limbs.

In the distance, you swear you hear someone calling your name, and you can’t help but smile. In this vast expanse of nothing but white... he cares for you.

Even if he’s only a figment of your imagination, he cares.

You’re jolted back to reality by the sound of your name being bellowed close by. Eyes heavy with snow, you slowly look around, neck stiff and frozen.

James jumps down from his horse, your figure barely visible through the snow.

“(Y/n)!” He sprints to you, foot slipping on a patch of ice and nearly pulling him to the ground.

His arms are cradling your frame as soon as he’s close enough, one hand pushing the snow out of your face and pressing his fingers to your neck.

“Oh thank the gods,” he whispers, your pulse like a drum grounding him.

He hauls you up into his arms and climbs onto his horse, the stallion taking off through the snow.

“Stay with me, (Y/n), please,” He murmurs, warm lips pressing against your frozen forehead.

Your eyes fall closed again and he has to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Only when the Palace comes into view does he allow himself to feel any form of hope.

He rides right up to the front doors then slides off his horse, your body held securely in his arms. Guards are already waiting, one taking care of his horse while the others lock the Palace doors and clear a path for the King.

He swears he’s never moved this fast in his life.

The door to your chambers is open and as soon as he’s inside, Natalia is pulling you from his grip and hauling you right in front of the fire.

He kicks his shoes off and shrugs out of his coat.

“Get her out of her clothes,” he orders, pulling off his trousers and stripping until he’s nearly naked.

Nat does as ordered, confused until he lies down next to you, pressing your freezing body against his and pulling the furs overtop of the two of you.

The fire burns hot against his face but it’s doing its job.

Soon enough he can feel you breathing heavier against his chest.

"Where is Steve?” The brunet demands, looking over at Nat. She shakes her head. “With the council still. I tried getting him but they would not allow me entrance.” James sighs, tucking your head between his shoulder and his neck and smoothing his flesh hand over your back, hoping the friction will warm you up faster.

Nat takes her leave, hoping to find Steve, and James scoots the two of you closer to the fire.

When you let out a sharp breath then start violently shaking in his arms he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You’re burning. Tiny needles are prickling your skin all over and it won’t stop. There’s a clattering noise that is absolutely annoying you and you recoil away from the heat.

It’s only when your face gets smushed further against a hot chest that you realize the chattering is your teeth.

“You’re okay,” a deep voice whispers, lips pressed against your frozen hair.

“I-It hurts,” you croak, throat sore and aching.

“I know, dove. I know.” His nose is buried in your hair, warm tears dripping from his eyes as he hugs you close to his chest.

The pain slowly fades and you sigh gratefully, bringing your hands up to press your frozen fingers against his warm torso.

The muscles in his abdomen clench at the contact and he lets out a sharp breath.

“You’re so cold,” he whispers, bringing a leg over yours to drape you in more of his body heat.

Your toes press against his other thigh and he groans.

“S-sorry,” you manage to get the word out without biting your tongue.

“Shh. It’s alright. Just warm up. You’re alright.” You nod, cold lips brushing against his chest. You press the tip of your nose against his skin and the contact nearly burns.

He presses kiss after kiss to the top of your head, thankful his body is always warm.

You gradually stop shivering but he doesn’t let you go, far too terrified that this is the last time he’ll get to hold you.

It’s only when you pull back to look at him that his arms loosen.

You notice his red eyes and instantly frown.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice is hoarse and he makes a note to get Wanda to bring you some tea.

“I...” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hot tears dripping down onto the furs beneath the two of you.

“For what?” You’re genuinely confused.

“Everything.”

“James, look at me.” He does so, reluctant but desperate to see you. Your lashes are wet and you can’t tell if it’s from the snow or your own tears.

“I’m alright. Without you, I wouldn’t be here. You saved my life.” He shakes his head, sniffling and squeezing you tighter to his chest.

“Why were you out there by yourself?” His voice is weak and muffled but the question confuses you.

“I was told that you wanted to meet me out there. A knight escorted me and delivered me the message. I was confused because it was snowing but I was eager to spend time with you.” He shakes his head, dread settling in his gut as he realizes that someone is indeed trying to sabotage his marriage.

“Did the knight give you his name?” You shake your head, fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I never told anyone anything. I was with Doctor Banner for a better portion of the day.” Your brows furrow and you pull back to look at him.

“If it was not you who sent for me... why would...” You trail off, eyes widening.

“He meant for me to die out there, didn’t he?” James swallows hard then nods, sighing heavily.

“That’s how it would seem. I do not know if those were his intentions and we will need to question him. But that all comes second.”

You snuggle against his chest further, his warmth and scent engulfing you and making you feel beyond safe.

“James?” You ask softly, pulling back again to look at him when he doesn’t answer.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” The heartbreak in your voice makes him want to die. He presses his forehead against yours and his lips quiver.

“I am terrified of being near you because all I have ever done is bring you pain. I do not wish to do that. Not ever again.” You bring one hand up and cup his face, wiping a tear off of his cheek.

“The only way you will bring me pain is by pushing me away. I miss you.” Your eyes flash down to his lips then back up to his eyes.

“With every day that goes by and I do not see you... I am saddened. We did not start our marriage well, but we can fix it. Please, James, don’t push me away anymore.” Your pleading breaks his heart and he nods, sniffling again.

“If I ask something of you... will you do it?” You ask softly. He nods without hesitation.

“Anything.”

You wait a beat, your heart thumping hard in your chest.

“Kiss me.” His eyes flash open and he pulls back to look at you. When the edges of your lips curve up he nods again, leaning down slowly.

His warm lips meet yours in a kiss that is filled with unspoken words and forbidden feelings. Tears cascade down his face and he leans further into the kiss, pushing himself up onto his metal forearm and rolling slightly until you’re on your back and he’s on his side. His flesh hand comes up to rest gently on the side of your neck, the thumping of your pulse beneath his fingers enough to have him relaxing.

Your hands come up instinctively to his hair, fingers tugging through the damp strands as you share your first real kiss with your husband.

His tears drip onto your face and you feel your heart break for him. You pull him closer, leg lifting and hitching around his waist to bring him flush against your body.

It’s like he’s never touched you before.

The feeling of your breasts pressing against his bare chest combined with the way you’re pulling him tight against you is enough to have him stirring in his britches.

He pulls away, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs. You sigh, fingers threading through his glorious locks. “You won’t. I just want to feel you. Have you close to me. Please.”

The look on your face has his resolve crumbling and, as if smelling your success, you pull him down, lips crashing against his.

“Will you let me try something? To make you feel good?” He asks breathlessly against your mouth. You’re not sure if anything can feel better than this but you’re more than willing to try.

He trails kisses down your body, taking a moment to pepper them over the soft skin of your breasts. His tongue flicks over your right nipple for a moment before retreating back into his mouth and allowing him to continue kissing down down down.

When his head is between your legs you push onto your elbows, nervous about having him somewhere so intimate.

“Relax. It won’t hurt, I promise.” You take a deep breath and nod, relaxing slightly as he presses gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs.

He pulls your legs over his shoulders and traces his tongue over your slit.

You jolt at the contact and he breathes a chuckle before diving in, his tongue working on the little bundle of nerves that makes your toes curl.

“J-James!” You cry, hand instinctively coming to his hair. He loops his arms under your legs, warm hand splayed on your stomach while his cold hand comes to your mound, middle finger slipping inside of you.

He’s gentle, thrusting slowly while his mouth focuses on your clit. Your legs clench around his head as the pleasure builds, a coil tightening in your belly.

A second finger slips inside of you with surprising ease, but you don’t dwell on that for long. His metal digits find the spot inside of you that makes you see stars and, upon hearing the guttural groan of pleasure you make, focus on hitting that spot with every thrust.

Your back arches and your fingers pull his hair so hard that it borders on pain, but one glance at the bliss on your face and the pain is forgotten.

His tongue works your clit while his fingers fuck faster, harder until you’re crying out, legs trembling and face scrunched up in pleasure. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and your slick gushes out around them.

He slowly pulls his fingers from you, cleaning up the mess between your legs with his tongue. The gentle kitten-licks just enough to prolong your climax.

When he finally pulls away and looks at you, you’re already watching him, your chest heaving and sweat glistening on your forehead.

“I suppose we warmed you up, didn’t we?” He asks playfully, grinning when you laugh breathlessly.

He adjusts himself in his pants then lays down with you once again, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What about you?” You ask shyly, glancing down to the tent in his underwear.

“I can handle it, dove. You need your rest.” You cuddle up against him on the makeshift bed, the crackling of the fire and the feeling of his fingers tracing up and down your spine lulling you into a deep sleep.

He holds you in his arms, mind racing to who might want you out of the kingdom and why, and then to Steve. Steve who’s been gone for a suspiciously long time. Steve who’s supposed to be in a meeting with the council conveniently at the time of you disappearing.

When the blond in question is finally free from the council, Natalia is there to tell him what happened.

He’s bursting into your chambers moments later, his heart in his throat until he sees you asleep with your head on James’ chest, the brunet holding you close to his body beside the smouldering embers of what must’ve been a roaring fire.

A small smile spreads over his face and he closes the door, taking off his shoes and stripping down to his underwear.

He climbs onto the thick cushion of furs, shimmying beneath the blankets draped over your frame and placing his arm over your waist, hand resting against his husband’s stomach.

James reaches down and squeezes Steve’s hand gently, meeting the blond’s eyes over your head.

“What happened?” He asks softly, not wanting to wake you up.

“She was set up,” James replies, his eyes full of so many emotions.

“By who?” James shakes his head, sighing heavily.

“We have much to discuss, but it can wait until morning.” Steve nods in agreement, pressing his body against yours.

You sigh, sandwiched between their warmth and lost in a deep sleep.

Steve is pressed against your back and James against your front, the two holding onto each other’s arms over your waist.

And at that moment everything is as it should be. As it should have been in the first place.

But James knows that this may be only temporary unless they can find the traitor responsible for nearly killing you.

He hopes to the Gods that they find whoever it is soon because now that he has you in his arms, he never wants to let you go.

since ouat never really cared about their werewolves, what do you think they can/can't do? I mean, if you could give their condition rules, what it would be like?

UUuuuuuuhhhhh, what a fun and delicious ask. The writers really never thought things through or gave us easy to understand lore. So, if I could have a say and make it all consistent? Here we go.

First up, the superspeed in human form goes. That is too much. Faster than average? For sure. Stronger as seen is fine by me. Let the wolves in humanform have an easy time to break bones, push others around and lift heavy things. Stamina surpassing the average human. And of course all the heightened senses as seen! Very important, everything is louder, smellier, brighter - very sensitive. (Can be used to overwhelm Ruby if need be. harrrrrr)

Something from the comics I'd be okay with is telepathy between wolves. That in their wolf form they can communicate with each other, not just with their animal noises, but telepathy. It's an interesting form of bond. But no communication with humans that way (also not in their human form). It's something that never mattered anyway, since Ruby is alone.

Now, for the most important thing that was glossed over - The Bite (tm). You can be born a wolf or you can be made one, so how does that work? The show tells us that Granny was bitten as a young girl and then the wolf came back and turned her. What does that mean? I propose that a wolf can't just bite anyone and *poof* now they're a wolf. There has to be a deliberate want behind. And let me go further, there has to be a connection between the wolf and the human. I'm not saying it has to be love, but familiarity, a need to add this human to your pack. And some form of willingness from the person being bitten.

Hear me out, outsiders will always talk about the Curse of the Werewolf. Because a person gets bitten, turns into a killing machine with fangs and claws during wolfstime. How horrible! The human family will say that someone was taken from them. But from the perspective of the new wolf, it's finding a new family, a new home, following the call of the wild, joining a pack. It's not easy and it breaks their heart a bit leaving behind what they know, but they will never be accepted in the human world again, right? They will be hunted. But they feel this deeper belonging as a Child of the Moon, it was in them before and when they met a wolf (maybe even in their human form, being drawn to something they couldn't explain)...

From the wolf perspective this is a gift. Marking someone is not be done lightly. And it happens only rarely. But when it does, it's the humans who get to tell the story and this is why werewolves are seen as beasts only. Well that and the unfortunate people being born a wolf, not knowing, having their tragic experiences like Red with Peter. Tragedy!!!

But obviously the bite isn't a curse, because curses can be broken with True Love (tm). Yes, Granny wasn't a fan of wolves, she saw ugly things and hoped her granddaughter would be spared. This is where my need for a Granny-centric episode comes on. Imagine meeting young Granny (imagine her having a canon name). @heartsways wrote something beautiful in her fic that I will now adopt as my headcanon. The reason Granny's wolf faded, apart from a few heightened senses, is that her husband died. So imagine a wolf dying and the ones he bit will not only lose the person, but also this gift. Angst! Layers! More tragedy! It's also why it so rarely happens, because the wolves understand that it is a high price to lose this life again like that. (It's also lifted somewhat from werewolf myths where you need to find the one who bit the person to lift the curse, but again, it's not a curse from the perspective of the wolves here.)

The other obvious thing - silver. Give me wolves that feel like almost indestructable killing machines. The skin so thick a normal sword will barely leave a mark, an arrow won't even stick. (A sharp blade with enough force should do damage, I mean, put a wolf under the guillotine and off that head goes.) But silver is their weakness. And while I am all for faster healing, let silver wounds carry between their forms, always. (Show me scars carry over in transformation.)

The wolf is strong and has many advantages, and since I believe in balance, the weakness against silver is within their human form. (All the jewelry Ruby wears? Lots of material, nothing silver though.) It's how somebody could try to find a wolf, having a silver coin or whatever, letting a suspect hold it and a wolf would react. Like a chemical burn. (Imagine Tamara and Greg doing that trick, that would be an amazing scene.)

Now, in the ideal world Ruby would been around for the whole show and to give her an arc, I'd introduce the concept that there are some werewolves, who master their shapeshifting abilities. Shifting independent of the moon.

Oh right, first I'd set this definite time frame for wolfstime. I'd give it the two nights before the full moon, full moon, and two nights after. So five nights of wolf fun. There.

But anyway, in S5 it's time to get Ruby an upgrade. She's confident in her powers and at peace with her wolf side. Which is key. For most even living in a pack, there is a lifelong struggle of the two sides. But Ruby is an expert now of living different lives, of seeing herself as a whole, made up of so many different ways she ever saw herself. Let there be a cunning shapeshifter around and give her a Big Damn Hero moment. Let her turn into a wolf when our beloved idiots are in dire need of help, give me proud wolf attacking to defend in brought daylight. It's super rare, but so is Ruby. (She should start flashing golden eyes every now and then from S4 onwards to build up to this.)

Other things - wolves are at an disadvantage against magic obviously, and yet maybe some spells don't work as easily against them. The whole strength can depend on the moon phase, like even as a human, they are a bit weaker during the new moon phase, so it's an ebb and flow that helps not being too powerful all the time. Explore that Ruby's sense of loyalty is part of her instinct package. (Girl will follow Snow into hell and back without question. Oh wait...) I'm totally here to add wolfsbane to the weakness list, because that's fun.

( @konako I’m tagging you, because if I’ve forgotten something, I’m sure you will remind me.)

HimiKiyo Week 2021: Day 1- Creeping Darkness

//HimiKiyo Week 2021 is finally here! Took a little bit tonight to finalize edits and come up with a title. Look forward to more each day for the next week~

I’m proud, this is one of my longest singlechapter  fics ever if not the longest

Links to other Platforms:

Amino: https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-2021-day-1/5B58_R2MsVulaQEnXkXVBzYlGjd3mXnP3Z

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34119466

The seaside village Himiko moved out to was more out of the way  than the usual cities and suburbs. Apparently, her mentor couldn’t come. It was going to be a pain being out in that little house all alone. Who knows, maybe he’d sent another student of his the same kind of message?

To her disappointment there wasn’t anyone else, still not a single other apprentice known to her. She decided that after not doing anything yesterday but unpacking and eating and sleeping she would go over to the shrine marked on the local map. If nothing else she could pray for good luck before really getting down to working. 

The course of this assignment and her whole life changed the moment she saw that strange figure at the offerings box while nobody else was around. They wore a long green kimono with beautiful dark hair almost matching that outfit in length. They looked to be glowing ethereally, with pale white skin akin to a porcelain doll. 

Their hand was in the offerings box. At first she assumed they must be giving their own prayers and as such stayed back so as to not intrude. She noticed then that the figure was taking something *out* of the offerings box and that’s when she wondered if they were a thief. 

“Fret not, these offerings are for me, dear human.” a voice came to her, seeming at first separate from the figure still several feet ahead. Someone addressing a person as “human” and saying it was their offering… She’d never seen a kami before, but that was the sole explanation that made everything make sense about them.

“Then you’re a kami?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow. 

“That I am, I am called Shinguji. This family name refers to residing here, at the True Temple. My given name Korekiyo means just and pure”

“I-it’s a beautiful…” The mage was torn in half between the word ‘name’ and the word ‘place.’ The brook not far behind the pair was babbling audibly and birds were chirping. The water went past the trees and out to the river, which fed it almost directly into the ocean. 

Even if something wicked this way was coming there was nothing yet to taint the natural beauty. She wasn’t sure if it would even be able to with a keeper this pretty.

“A beautiful what?” The spirit gently prodded her with the question. They had noticed her biting her lip in uncertainty.

“Name, your name is pretty. Uhh, and I’m…” she was too flustered to easily find any of the necessary words. 

“You are Yumeno Himiko.”

“So you knew that already?” It was not that surprising in hindsight, but in that moment she was caught off guard, focusing on trying not to be so tense in their presence like she had been up to that point. She worried she was giving off the wrong message.

“I intuited it, but I don’t blame you for being surprised. Most humans think of us Kami as mythology, but I’ve known these old figures, and dealt with many creatures as my neighbors in my centuries of life.”

“In that case then are you able to intuit why I’m here?” The mage tried hard not to sound too much like a schoolgirl talking to her popular crush. 

“I could. It would be easier if you told me. Whatever it is, you seem particularly stressed out by it.” They tilted their head slightly, a very human gesture, and it was clear they were reading deeper. Either humans had gotten it from the ancient gods or vice-versa. One of those things nobody would ever be able to remember the origin of.

It was better to answer the question than get too off track wondering about that. 

“Well, my master who is a magician told me there was something that was going to go wrong here. He gave me the mission to stop it.”

It was Kiyo’s turn to be concerned. 

“Well, I have been given whispers that a nasty yokai is approaching this land. It comes from the far north and wishes to sap power for itself. Very few claiming to be survivors of this have shown up, and we’re all so isolated these days...”

That was a bad sign. 

“Is it because of us?” If her master had worried so much about it then there was no doubt in her mind that this thing would be going after humans if it hadn’t already started.

“Not all of you, but some who are greedy have broken many natural connections and scattered the so-called mythical creatures and spirits away. In a way it’s beautiful, the circle of life even. Although, it is believed perhaps negative energy has attracted this beast from its home and onto its rampaging path.”

A realization hit her. In her research she found that even things that you would not expect to have a soul or a consciousness did at least have the same kind of natural energy as things that did. So objects and anything/everything else with a soul would be susceptible to producing negative energy. 

“So it's a cycle of things feeding into it.”

“Yes. I fear if it gets to a certain point it’ll have enough momentum that there will be no stopping it. So you should think about what you will do to face the possibility.”

Something about those words felt familiar. Even though it was a serious topic, Himiko was comforted. 

“And you need someone like me to stand a chance?”

“The more the merrier, of course. There are things even I may have missed and for that you can be an extra set of eyes and ears. We’re going to train and prepare.”

The rest of that afternoon was spent, at first guided by Kiyo and by the end on her own, getting more used to the area and learning some specific landmarks. 

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

Starting the following day, Himiko started up a routine to come back every day, which would last for several months. Each day she learned new things about the old times that had only ever been guessed about from artifacts. She learned that even Kami had a cutoff point in memory, even if it did happen to be thousands of years stronger than mortals. The only truly omnipotent beings were those that had created earth eons ago, who were as elusive as ever. 

She also trained. Oh, how wonderful it was to train again. And with a more formidable opponent than most people  she would ever encounter normally. After each session she was told more about the species of yokai, and which were more likely to be dangerous foes that needed preparation for.

They would pray and make wishes for having strength and safety at the lucky rock on the path along the brooks. Kiyo allowed Himiko to take and keep a bit of power from it.

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

It happened when she thought it was going to be just another day of what they had been doing. It was not. 

There was something off in the air. And it wasn’t just the dead trees, those were normal for winter. What wasn’t normal was the small patches of rot in them already, the rot had even spread to the grass and other plants on the ground. There was a trail of it and it reeked of a nasty yokai. A being only interested in death and destruction. 

Even worse was that Kiyo was nowhere to be found. They had made a game plan about that, Himiko was to check somewhere inside the shrine in order to find clues. Inside the prayer chamber proper it was a mess just like it would be in the case of any other type of break in. The rot hadn't set in because the room was blessed and was better able to resist, but there was a distinct trail of slime that showed its movement and the room.

She could picture Kiyo weaving around it and dodging attacks to have a chance to hit back at it. The fight had torn up the screens and the ancient art it depicted, and even punctured holes in the inner walls and flooring. An extra band of beads like one Kiyo would often wear was left behind. The signal was received.

Something wasn’t right, however. A presence that was too strong to be explained by the evil residue. It seemed like what they were working against had minions left behind, for the exact reason that someone like her was in the area and had to be stopped. The question was how many were there?

Five of them came up from either the ground or one of the holes puncturing the walls, one right before her and four circling around, forming seemingly out of the shadows and the goo. They quickly solidified into dark shapes that were much like werewolves, though she recognized among them different animal traits expressed. One even had bunny-esque lop ears. 

Himiko took out her wand and started muttering some spells under her breath, making a broad sweeping motion to keep all at bay. The one closest was pushed back and stumbled in surprise. Trying to charge her led to an acrobatic maneuver: it leapt over onto its back and she whipped out a stage magician-like string of handkerchiefs and pulled it up to start choking the beast out.

They surprisingly weren’t as vicious as she’d imagined from how each of them had shown up. It couldn’t do any of its special moves. Unfortunately, its friends could, and they did. They rushed and she let go for a moment, tripping up one and using its momentum in a way it crashed into the first one before it could recover.  

Swinging off it allowed her to jump up and kick a third before lashing a whip of electricity from her wand, yanking the fourth and gaining momentum by bouncing off it with a drop kick right about where the lungs were.

Watching them struggle, she realized they had once been animal spirits for sure, only to have been corrupted. They weren’t just something conjured by their boss.

Hesitation for even one second almost cost her when one swiped claws, just barely missing her and taking her hat instead. The advantage of being shorter than the monsters was they’d miss like that. And much like the stage magic she pretended to use in daily life, the hat was spring-loaded with some friends for them to play with. A magic box that was shattered by the attack let out doves of magical energy that distracted each as well as a jack-in-the-box dummy that took her place as a target for just long enough to take one out.

Even though the trick had been figured out, she could tell from their expressions changing the exact instant of the realization there wasn’t much the poor things could do when the tide had been turned. The rest of them were dispatched with a quick volley of attack spells. She sprinted out, conjuring another hat loaded with a similar trick from her storage at home, just in case. It was more physically exhausting than mana draining so she borrowed from her reserve to recover breath and catch up sooner.

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

She crossed her fingers that those things weren’t going to be much more of a problem on the way over. The trail grew cold on her about a dozen times already the past 4 days but each time she doubled back to a previous checkpoint, there was another sign she’d accidentally glossed over. Each time something was left in an obscure place: a back alley or a bush only to be dragged out by a cat, occasionally right to her. 

Whether it was an order from Kiyo or someone else, she wasn’t sure, but all the help was appreciated. 

It seemed to be that when it took someone, it had to complete a loop back home. It was much faster than she could follow on foot. So the mage took to various buses and trains when she needed to. 

Himiko hadn’t slept in nearly 24 hours by the 4th night, and all the past nights had been similarly lacking in rest. She’d set alarms to go off within a few hours of very scattered naps so she’d at least run decently when it finally came down to it.

She snuck out of an inn somewhere very rural and very cold in the northern reaches of Hokkaido. She could just feel the cave system nearby was definitely the origin point of the attacker. 

Before she could even begin the climb upwards, an upright, tall figure came barrelling down in her direction, diving from above off of a rock and gliding down gracefully, coughing and panting, falling to their knees after the taxing stunt. That fall easily could have killed a human, plus most people couldn’t fly without magical objects.

“We need to get back up there, hurry!”

“Kiyo!” 

However, before the first shape could speak further they were interrupted from behind Himiko. Just a few feet downhill a second Kiyo was standing. 

“Don’t Himiko! That thing can become other entities!”

The first Kiyo to arrive chuckled and shook their head. “Well, that’s true, clever of you to tell her first.” A deep sigh later,  they continued. “Shame I’ve heard of that little trick before and prepared something for this kind of thing.”

“A double cross is it?” the second Kiyo asked. “It’s quite a claim you have there, being the real me, having planned for your own deception.”

Whichever Kiyo was the real one, it was hard to tell at first. The two auras had been in close proximity so a mage in training would have a hard time pulling apart which was which. Then the first Kiyo cleared their throat again.

“Well then, I have a proposition.” they said, turning their attention back to Himiko. “Yumeno Himiko should be able to ask a question, then see how both of us answer, and she’ll know which of us is real.”

“Of course, after spending so long with me she’s bound to know the real one. I’d be crazy to decline,” the beast said.

Kiyo knew this thing would do anything to avoid being pegged as suspicious. It was a double bind for the beast. The only way this was ending was fighting it. This was part of that plan. Delaying it just a tad until the right time. 

Himiko cleared her throat, glancing between the two one more time before she closed her eyes. It was nerve wracking but as long as it wanted to not out itself, the yokai would never blindside attack her. 

“My question is very simple: What is it that I was training to do?” 

The creature nodded. “Understood. This one is easy. We were going to stop the one who’s taken all those others and stop them from taking enough power for its plan.” It turned to Kiyo, giving a taunting glare. “And before the monster tries any trickery, to be specific, we were practicing your magic and got you a mana boost. It’ll help the new technique not be so taxing on you.”

That was almost entirely correct. Kiyo knew then their suspicion was right and something in the area had been spying and relayed all its gathered information back to prepare this creature for any threats that may spring up. That’s what attacked first, the helpers that Himiko had to fend off to get here.   

“Alright. My turn.” Kiyo remained characteristically calm face to face. “We were training. So I don’t have to repeat what the other me said, I’ll agree. However, there was something missing from that answer.”

“Missing? What, pray tell, did I miss?”

“The mana boost served as a test to see if you were already there. And I felt something that may have been a minion performing recon.” Emphasis on the last word. That was something Kiyo had been anticipating. Before they had been taken, she was given a code word. They only mentioned it to her in a whisper on the day that they felt a presence leave to the north with no other context. ‘Recon’ was that word. 

Eye contact was made, Himiko gave a slight nod to show that she understood and it was off to the races. She went on ahead, up one path leaving the Kiyos behind. It was a signal to the real Korekiyo. And so, the two fought again, much like they had when the faker had invaded the temple and kidnapped them to try and complete the ritual.  

They weaved in and out, sometimes further to one side away from Himiko and her destination when Kiyo was having their way and closer, forcing her to duck and use repulsion spells to avoid being caught up in the scuffle. Kiyo’s attacks looked like needles when they flew at their enemy, so she even gave those attacks a boost. She heard the cries of anger and pain when one managed to hit just the right place.

The yokai was a resilient one though, it would just pluck them right out and fire back energy attacks of their own. One of them hit Kiyo and sent them tumbling back down the mountain some distance, dropping several dozen feet to a thud.

They got back up almost instantly, knowing how much danger the girl ahead was in, and pulled out a pair of scythe to quickly dig into the mountain’s side and climb up to a point where they could launch up and gain enough momentum to catch up right behind that yokai.

Faster than ever, Himiko ran. It seemed being tired was starting to slow both down the further up the mountain the climb went. She dove and rolled right into the cave and the faker caught up, confirming even further that it was the yokai when it dove to try and stop her from entering, the disguise melting away grotesquely. She didn’t even have time to be offended at it ruining and distorting those beautiful features because of how fast it barrelled back into the base.

All she could do was point her wand directly in its face and say the words. Like a bullet, red light with a pointed tip struck right through an already gaping hole that showed the black flame-like matter that was its heart. The evil and corrupt soul was pierced.

It could barely re-shape itself anymore with its wounds. It stared at her with half its true features and half rippling nothingness as the face it wore sloughed off and dissipated like a puddle under sunlight. Even the animal-like maw began falling off, fangs first. 

Then Kiyo wrestled it from behind and wrapped it in chains of light. It was likely already dying. But part of its corrupt nature would linger in this spot if it was not sealed and purified.

“What no! Nooooo”. It started shrieking when the shock of being blindsided had finally worn off and it found itself in chains, being dragged away towards the cave’s inner chamber. It was powerless to do anything but watch these interlopers ruin everything.

“Unfair, unfair, unfaaiiiiir.” Most of the thrashing came in the form of weak kicks. It was truly pitiful for something that had beaten kami before. . 

“What a childish temper tantrum.” Kiyo scoffed at it, only briefly turning a shoulder to pay it any mind as they continued towards the end of the mission. It was so mad, and nipped away trying to bite its captor in spite of there being no chance of succeeding now. . 

Himiko came to a strange spot on the back wall and Kiyo lifted the beast over their shoulders and used its paw to unlock a big room full of artifacts, a bunch of seals on them to keep its victims contained. Many tomes of black magic and scribbles showcased a plot to steal power from all the shrine deities to build a “Domain of Darkness”. In which it plotted to prevent the sun from ever rising above Japan, and the whole planet after long enough, ever again. This would remove power from any being who got magic from natural resources and would kill billions of mortals. 

Himiko looked at the plans and laughed nervously, sweating a bit. 

“So um… you don’t think that this would have worked?” she asked, desperately wanting this to just be the pipe dream of an arrogant monstrosity.

“Absolutely not. I’m by no means the strongest of my kind, and you’re still training. It took prisoners, yes, but this is delusional. We won in part because we were underestimated. That kind of fatal mistake would have doomed this plan eventually.”

A sad whimpering came from it, laying on the ground in defeat.

Himiko was tasked to watch over it while Kiyo performed the unsealing rituals. Each one she spared glances at, admiring them from her spot in the center of the room. She could almost feel a tinge of jealousy among the defeat and anger emanating from their felled foe. It was way more interesting watching Kiyo work and chat with each spirit that was freed. Each time they agreed instantly to help get the rest out, which hastened the process. 

Each one helped before some left to make sure their shrines were fine. The remainder, led by Kiyo, thanked Himiko. Their hands warm around hers. Kiyo felt every little soft spot on her hands and even some slight callusing, presumably from the fighting. Even those bits were lovely. 

“You can go home now. It’s getting late but we need to stay for now. I will return to you with the important news.

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

Himiko got home first, since that was decided as the meeting place. It was far enough from the shrine that it wouldn’t be immediately obvious if that entity came back for another round. She got on her knees in front of her bed, elbows firmly leaning into the mattress so she could clasp and pray. She was exhausted. 

“Please let it be gone once and for all.” She trusted Kiyo could do that much.

Then she was awoken by footsteps and sat upright to who was joining her. Her door had opened and glowing in the moonlight, Kiyo came in, closing the door behind them. 

“I have seen to it that this chapter is done.” The spirit held a hand to her cheek and gently brushed a long finger across part of her face. “Thank you, your journey has only truly just begun but you can relax for now.”

Himiko was flushed a bright red. 

“I was struck by your beauty from the moment that I walked to your shrine.” Her heart raced. They’d touched a couple times by now but this was the most breathtaking and close. The most intimate. She raised a hand of her own and touched Kiyo’s arm gently.

A soft smile spread on the spirit’s lips. “Oh, I could tell. I could also tell that there was a pull here. Some call I needed to answer for you and it's only become more clear that there was more to it than that.”

Time felt like it slowed down to a stop as the two maintained soft eye contact.

Then they kissed her. A warmth emanated from them, pulsing like a heartbeat. 

“More to it?” she asked, even though the kiss gave her a very good idea of what they were going to tell her next. 

“I love you. And so… I want it to actually be *our* journey.” They heavily emphasized the word indicating that the adventure would be shared. It already was, it had been since the day she came to this place.

“Would it really be okay? For you to leave your shrine I mean. When it comes time for that.” 

“No worries about that, I can find someone for that when that’s necessary.”

Baby Shoes - Chapter 4

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

The sound of the door opening jolts Bubby back into awareness - and Benrey too. They have another full body flinch, smacking their head against the concrete wall in their scramble.

Dr. Zeki’s heels click on the floor. “Dr. Bubby,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “This is certainly a strange place to find you.”

Benrey’s halfway off his lap already. He moves them gently so he can stand up to his full height, and their hands cling to his pant leg. “I wanted to try something new.”

“You’re attached,” Zeki says. “I should have known better than to let you on this project. It’s not sentient, Bubby. It’s not a fun little pet. Don’t you ever wonder what happened to Dr. Tipton? I’m sure you remember him.”

He, unfortunately, does. Dr. Tipton had been assigned to Bubby long ago, and he’d been an utter nightmare. No sense of boundaries, plus terrible hygiene.

“I recall him, yes.”

“This little subject you’re so fond of nearly killed him. It bit him and injected some kind of venom. We had to develop an entire new antivenom, in less than two hours, just for Dr. Tipton. He’s got permanent nerve damage and lost a few fingers, but he’s alive. I can only hope I’ll be able to say the same for you.”

Bubby glances down at Benrey. They’re clinging even tighter now, claws making small holes in Bubby’s pants.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“Well, in that case.” Her gaze shifts down to Benrey. “You were so interested in its living situation, weren’t you? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we have it stay with you, then.”

“I don’t, actually.” He folds his arms, leveling his gaze right at Zeki, eyes meeting hers. “You know what, I think that’s a fantastic idea.” 

Zeki smirks at him, unbearably smug. “We’ll have to move you to the Biological Research wing, of course. You can’t be in a regular dorm with it. I’m sure your old room is still available, tube and all.”

Bubby bites the inside of his lip. He’s hated a lot of scientists in his years at Black Mesa, but he’s never had the repeated urge to strangle someone until Dr. Zeki. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can find an empty room that can suit my, and the subject’s, needs.”

There’s a buzz from Zeki’s pocket. “Well, you have until I get out of my last meeting. Good luck, Dr. Bubby.” She gives him a final cold glare, turning on her heel and making sure to slam the door behind her.

“Bitch,” Bubby mutters. He hopes Dekkard broke her stuff while he was wrapping it in tinfoil.

There’s a high pitched noise from Benrey, and when Bubby looks down he sees dark bubbles like shadows. He’s careful not to touch them this time, not wanting a repeat of earlier. He crouches back down, eye level with Benrey again.

“Sorry about that,” he says quietly, reaching an arm out and gently placing it on Benrey’s shoulder. “I think I may have fallen asleep as well.”

“I don’t like her,” Benrey mumbles. “She’s scary.”

“I’m not especially fond of her either,” Bubby says. “But, I think this can actually work in our favor.”

“Huh?”

“She tried to scare me with that story, and she thinks she’s punishing me by inviting me to live here with you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Benrey mumbles, hunching their shoulders. “I just - he kept touching me -”

“I’ve had my fair share of encounters with Dr. Tipton. Whatever you did, I’m sure he had it coming.”

“So you - you actually wanna -” Benrey’s eyes are wide and shiny. 

“If you’re alright with it, yes.”

Benrey nods, frantically, leaning their head against Bubby’s shoulder. They can’t quite reach to hug him, so Bubby moves closer, wrapping his arms around them. “I can’t stay for much longer, though. I need to go find us a good room. But I promise I’ll be back, alright?”

Benrey nods, bright yellow bubbles falling from their mouth. Bubby takes a moment to enjoy the wave of joy that comes with them before he forces himself to get up. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he says. 

Benrey’s whole being seems brighter, somehow. Less grey. Their hands tap against the ground. “Bye,” they say, as Bubby shuts the door gently behind him.

He checks Zeki’s office first. Dekkard is nowhere to be seen, but he’s clearly left his mark. Everything - the table, the computer, each individual pencil - has been painstakingly wrapped in tinfoil.

Bubby grins at the sight, taking a moment to knock a few paper weights off the desk.

He checks Dekkard’s desk next. No sign of him there, either, but his slinky is on the desk, so he can’t be too far. 

Sure enough, he’s in the next spot Bubby checks - the break room. He’s standing in front of the vending machine, looking for all the world like a professor stumped by a difficult math question.

“Dekkard!”

He turns and waves. “Oh, hey Bubby. Hey, should I get doritos, or -”

“Nevermind that! I have an important project. I need you to come with me.”

Dekkard raises an eyebrow, turning back to the machine. “Doritos it is.”

Bubby sighs. “Please. Look, this is very time sensitive, I only have until Zeki is done with her last meeting and I’ve already wasted ten minutes looking for you.”

Dekkard reaches into the machine for his bag of chips. “I mean, I’m supposed to be on lunch, but if this is to fuck with her, then I’ll help. Let’s go.”

“I saw your work in her office,” Bubby says as they walk back to Dekkard’s desk. “And I will admit, you did an excellent job.”

Dekkard beams. “Maybe I’m not so underqualified after all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Dekkard slips into his chair. Bubby’s too anxious to sit, instead pacing back and forth as he waits for the computer to boot up. “So, what am I helping you with?”

“Zeki made a proposal. I’m sure she intended it as a threat, but. I need a free room here in Biological Research. Something livable. No tubes or cages or any of that shit.”

Dekkard’s hands pause on the keyboard. He glances back at Bubby, who’s staring over his shoulder, leaning forward to watch. “Are you…moving in here?”

“Yes. Myself and one of the subjects, so make sure it’s big enough for two people.”

Dekkard spins in his chair. “One of the subjects?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” He folds his arms, standing up straight.

“I mean - pretty much every single subject here could kill you, so -”

“I used to be a subject here, if you’ll recall.” 

“Yeah, but - you’re not like them. You’re like, a person.” Dekkard sighs. “Is it the alien?”

“Their name is Benrey.”

“You named it?”

“We are wasting time,” Bubby snarls, stepping forward to grab the mouse from Dekkard’s hand. He holds it up, stretching the wire as far as it can go. 

“Hang on! Look, I’m willing to help, I just -”

“I don’t have time to argue with you! Either help me, or I will do this myself.” 

“Look, Bubby -”

“Dr. Bubby.”

“Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard groans, tipping his head back. “You’re the only tolerable person here, I don’t wanna help you get killed by an alien.”

“Well, luckily for you that’s not what you’re doing. Now are you going to help or not?”

“You’re really set on this, huh?”

It’s a lucky thing Bubby’s control over his pyrokinesis has grown, or Dekkard’s hair would be on fire. “Yes, I’m sure. I - they have them chained up. Like some kind of wild animal. They’re a child, Dekkard. Zeki made the mistake of offering this, and I’m not going to give her the chance to back down.”

Dekkard’s shoulders slump as he spins back to the computer. “I’m not gonna pretend like I understand, but fine. I’ll help.” Bubby takes a step away from the computer to give him a bit of space, not wanting to hover as Dekkard logs into the horribly designed official Black Mesa website. It takes him a minute to pull up a map, but once he does, he waves Bubby back over. “Okay, so. There’s a few empty areas, it looks like. I’m gonna toss these ones immediately -” and here he points to the screen at a cluster of small rooms - “because those are next to whatever the hell it is that screams all night. XEN - uh, Benrey?” He glances up at Bubby who nods approvingly. “Right. Benrey’s over here right now, and I think there’s actually an unused room pretty close? Big one, too.” 

“Just find me something and show me it. I don’t need your entire thought process.”

“Hey, I’m the one helping you.” Dekkard’s quiet after that, though, focusing more on the screen as Bubby paces back and forth, glancing at his pager every few minutes. “Okay, come here, I’ve got a list.”

This is the time-consuming part. Dekkard shows Bubby each of the rooms, laying out the size and shape and what they’re near, and then they spend a few moments debating the pros and cons. Bubby knows they’re on a timer, but his attention is elsewhere, and he does forget to check the time. 

His pager beeps.

“Oh, motherfucker,” he mutters. Zeki’s meeting must have ended, because she’s sent him a message.

Meet me in my office.

“We need to decide right now.”

“Shit, that her?”

“No, it was the president. Yes, it was her!”

Dekkard sighs, scooting his chair closer. “Okay, I know it’s a weird shape, but I think this one’s best. There’s a bathroom nearby and a sink in the room, which is good. Better than the dorms, even. And you can hang up a curtain or something over here and make it like a separate room.”

He’s gesturing at a vaguely L-shaped room close to the offices and break room. Bubby has seen it before. It’s been unused for ages, gathering dust, and will probably be a pain to clean. But Dekkard does have a point, and he’s out of time.

“Fine. Sure. Yes. What’s the room number?”

“B-22.”

“B-22,” Bubby repeats. “B like Bubby. Excellent. Alright, I’m off to go ruin Zeki’s day.”

Dekkard shoots him a grin and a finger gun. “Good working with you.”

“Also, don’t get the doritos. They’re stale.”

Dekkard looks at the bag on his desk. “God damnit. Asshole.”

I love you

Summary: Theo and Y/N never got along. The pack knew this, their friends knew this, everyone knew this, but as a tragic attack leaves Y/N badly hurt... Theo starts to realize what he truly feels for Y/N

Warnings: Angst, kinda slowburn

Authors note: this is my first fic ever so it might not be that good but I hope y’all enjoy 🥺

——————————————————————————

I had gotten a call from Stiles a few minutes ago telling me to hurry my ass out of my house for a new pack mission. He has been my best friend for years and the only other human besides myself in the McCall pack. I was assigned to go with Scott to find our newest enemy alpha leader. He was said to have a large pack of betas and known to be dangerous and would do anything for power. Yah not scary at all right.

As Scott and I left his car, we realized we walked into a trap. Multiple betas came hurdling at us as we tried to defend ourselves. One beta, probably just turned recently, came for my throat and left a huge mark. My neck was burning but I had to fight back or he would probably rip my throat out. Another beta came at me fast and I didn’t have time to react. They clawed at my abdomen. The room looked as if it was spinning and my head was pounding. I could tell I was losing a lot of blood already. Luckily Scott was there and managed to help us both escape into his car. He noticed the amount of blood I was losing and rushed me back to his house where the rest of our pack resided.

Everything was fast paced now. I could hear Stiles and Liam panicking as Lydia and Malia were yelling at Scott to rush me to the hospital. Lydia ran for her keys while Scott hurried me into his car. Derek was planning on driving, knowing how reckless Scott would be if he was driving while stressed. I looked around in the vehicle and everyone in the pack was present. Everyone but Theo. Of course he wouldn’t come, why would he? Actually it was quite a surprise that he didn’t come to laugh at my demise. To mock me for being weak and defenseless. To tell me how I don’t deserve to be in Scott’s pack. I tried as hard as I could to block out any thoughts about him, but I hate him so much sometimes he’s all I remember, all I can think about.

I always gloated to Theo about how much better I was than him. Now look at me, lying on my death bed barely breathing. A few minutes later I could hear the doctor outside telling Malia I would be fine after she threatened to rip his throat out. Typical Malia, her hearts in the right place at least, gotta love her for that.

The thought of coming out of this alive was unbelievable. I was human, I’m meant to be expendable but here I am. I survived. And with this thought I blacked out once again.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident and I started to recover slowly. I decided to make some popcorn and sit down to watch a movie when I heard a knock on my door. It was probably Stiles coming back to check in on me so I hurried to the door.

Once I opened the door I saw Theo. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Bags under his eyes, messy hair, pale skin. I didn’t want to admit it but at times he made we wish I didn’t hate him the way I did. It was no secret that Theo was incredibly attractive and almost everyone at beacon hills high school was in love with him. Everyone but me. We stared at each other for a while until I finally motioned for him to come into the house. He seemed more tense than usual and I really wanted to ask why but at the same time my ego got in the way.

We stood in silence for a bit without saying anything to each other. My stitches started to burn and I winced in pain. I guess Theo seemed to notice because he rushed over and helped me onto my couch. He finally decided to say something.

“So I heard about your injury” he said awkwardly, trying to make conversation

“Yah it’s better now” I said giving him a small smile

“Why did you go with Scott”

“What?”

“Why did you with him? You’re human, you know you would get hurt if you went against a whole pack of betas and an alpha” he said, his voice getting louder after each word

“He’s my friend, no one else could’ve gone with him because it was such short notice and we needed intel. I trust him with my life”

“You could’ve gotten killed by the way, do you understand that?” I’ve never seen Theo so angry and seeing him act like this annoyed me. Why was he doing this?

“Guess what, I’m alive and now we realize that the alpha is smarter than we expected. Enough intel has been obtained and now we can plan better for our next attack”

“What if you weren’t so lucky? What if I had lost y-” Theo was quick to stop himself. I didn’t hear the last part since he got so quiet.

“Why does this even matter to you? You hate me don’t you. Go about your day. Mock me. Make fun of me. That’s all you ever do right?”

“You really don’t get it do you”

“Get what? You hate me, I hate you. Why do you care so much, is it cause you won’t have anyone to belittle anymore if I died? Or is it cause you wanted to be the one to finish the job” I screamed in frustration

At this point Theo was mad. He looked at me, blue eyes piercing through my soul. I needed an answer. He can’t just come barging into my house, then tell me what to do.

“Why are you so quiet? Tell me why you came here.”

“ITS BECAUSE IM IN LOVE WITH YOU”

Theo realized what he said and quickly turned around, not able to look into my eyes. I still couldn’t process any of it. Was this just another trick to make me vulnerable? I hated him, I need to hate him. I couldn’t let my feelings get the best of me and let me expose myself to him. Theo started walking towards the door and grabbed the handle. I had to stop him. I knew the answer now.

“Theo..” I said so lightly but I knew he heard me. He was a werewolf after all.

He stopped before he could open the door, slowly turning to me. Theo still couldn’t face me but I inched closer to him. I didn’t need superhearing to hear how fast and loud his heart was beating. He couldn’t have been lying. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable.

“Look I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t owe me anything in return, I’ll leave now”

I moved my hand to his face, we were both afraid of what was happening but we let it happen. We wanted this. He flinched slightly at the touch of my hand at his face.

“Y/N I didn’t realize it at first, but all those times we fought, made fun of each other, teased one another... I enjoyed that. I missed you so much. Over the last few weeks I finally understood how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you Y/N. I was afraid that you would get hurt again which is why I was mad. You make me feel something no one has ever made me feel. I love you Y/N”

“Theo... I guess I didn’t want to come to terms with how I felt about you. Considering how annoying you were when we first met” the both of us laughed, remembering all those times we would tease each other to our hearts content. “But now I know, I love you theo raeken”

Theo started to smile and I could see him shy away. He lowered my hand away from his face and held it tightly. He took my face with his other hand and we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. We both wanted this so badly but neither of us could start it. I guess Theo couldn’t handle the tension anymore (he was always the more impatient one) and he smashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was innocent but intense all at once. If we didn’t run out of air we could’ve been doing this for hours. As soon as we started to stop breathing heavily he grabbed my waist and kissed me again. I moved my hand to his hair as he moved his lips to my neck. I never wanted anything more than him.

Unfortunately our fun came to an end once we heard Stiles’ Jeep pull over. I guess he finally remembered to check in on me. This boy never had good timing. EVER.

Stiles made a grand entrance through the door and saw me and Theo in each other’s arms.

“What the hell happened here?!?”

apex legends sentence starters

❝ have you prepared for your end? i have. ❞ ❝ be careful. i don’t carry all these weapons for nothing. ❞ ❝ fear is my currency. ❞ ❝ this didn’t have to be your end. you chose this fate. ❞ ❝ let's not finish quickly. where's the fun in that? ❞ ❝ so i like to have a little fun. so what? ❞ ❝ we'll get along beautifully, just don't touch my things. ❞ ❝ you might be of use to me yet. ❞ ❝ your will to fight is admirable...but in this cae, pointless. ❞ ❝ you fight without honor. stragetic. ❞ ❝ you shuld have scurried away when you had the chance. ❞ ❝ either you're with me or you're against me, or you're with me and against me, cause  that happens sometimes. ❞ ❝ a faint heart never won a lady like me. ❞ ❝ what’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine. ❞ ❝ there’s a void in your heart. ❞ ❝ you're not the first blemish i’ve cut away. you won’t be the last. ❞ ❝ i’m always dressed to kill. ❞ ❝ would you like a kiss to make it better? ❞ ❝ a gun is like a beautiful woman. hold her tight, or someone else will. ❞ ❝ don’t go thinking i owe you anything. ❞ ❝ business is my pleasure. ❞ ❝ i had dreamt of quiet like that, but now that i had it, i was terrified. and alone. ❞ ❝ trust the gust of the wind. ❞ ❝ you got blood on my shoes! ❞ ❝ the quickest way to a man’s heart is through the chest. ❞ ❝ looking for me? here i am. ❞ ❝ the secret to life ain’t happiness. it’s knowing the unhappy times won’t last forever. ❞ ❝ i used to fear many things, but that man is gone. ❞ ❝ we had fun, right? i had fun. ❞ ❝ i love you. and i can’t wait to start our life together. ❞ ❝ i didn’t do it for you. ❞ ❝ you may be stronger, but i’m smarter. ❞ ❝ get up before i kill you myself. ❞ ❝ what if your parents could see this now? ❞ ❝ this is the only life i know. ❞ ❝ the one you should have concerns with is me. ❞ ❝ you are a good killer, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ you are no coward. remember that. ❞ ❝ don’t be embarassed. it happens to everyone...sometimes. ❞ ❝ there is more honor in death than in life without test. ❞ ❝ when you have nothing else to lose, it’s easy to win. ❞ ❝ knowledge is power...and pain. ❞ ❝ get your claws off of me. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of you, you hear me? ❞ ❝ goodnight, beautiful. ❞ ❝ it’s not just about having it. it’s about taking it. ❞ ❝ maybe we’ll be friends next time. ❞ ❝ i had to claw my way to the top. do you think i’m going to let you stop me? ❞ ❝ in another life, this may have been different. ❞ ❝ this didn’t have to happen. ❞ ❝ you got this. just look in front of you, behind you, above you, all at once. you'll be fine. ❞ ❝ i swore i'd never waste my life on a vendetta again. don't test that vow. ❞ ❝ you’re either ready or you’re an idiot. ❞ ❝ don’t worry, i still love you. ❞ ❝ take your pride, and cherish it. ❞ ❝ i love when the spotlight’s on me. ❞ ❝ the most beautiful creatures have the deadliest venom. ❞ ❝ i make it look easy, don’t i? ❞ ❝ maybe i’ll let you live to tell the tale...maybe not. ❞ ❝ alright so my place is a little sloppy, so what? doesn't mean i'm a mess in the field. ❞ ❝ smell that? that’s the sweet aroma of fear. ❞ ❝ i want your heart. ❞ ❝ is everything you do half-assed? ❞ ❝ it’s hell. every second of my existence is hell. ❞ ❝ you’ve been marked for death. ❞ ❝ step quieter next time. ❞ ❝ wanna take me out? i’ll buy the drinks. ❞ ❝ i’ve been through hell to get here. ❞ ❝ look into my eyes. i want to remember this. ❞ ❝ what made you think you were special? ❞ ❝ beg for your life. it’s good for both of us. ❞ ❝ next time you’ll do better. ❞ ❝ teammates are good. they do nicely as shields. ❞ ❝ go on, it’s okay to be afraid. ❞ ❝ champion, challenger...means little if you die. ❞ ❝ brought to your knees by a beautiful woman? don’t be surprised. ❞ ❝ you should have stayed home today. ❞ ❝ your skill isn’t half bad. ❞ ❝ i strike swift and deadly like my dad. he called it "business", i call it a party. ❞ ❝ a lady never kills and tells. ❞ ❝ most beautiful things are fragile. not me. ❞ ❝ you and i are not equals. ❞ ❝ and here’s what’s left of your legacy. ❞ ❝ they made me a killing machine. who am i to argue with programming? ❞ ❝ don’t worry, i’m just perfect. ❞ ❝ pick out something nice for me, won’t you? ❞ ❝ so tell me, one liar to another, what brings you here? ❞ ❝ i’m a man eater and a lady killer. i enjoy the variety. ❞ ❝ i knew this would happen, just didn’t know when. ❞ ❝ i know more than you will ever know. ❞ ❝ you think i’m going to help you? it’ll be a cold day in hell before i ever help someone like you. ❞ ❝ what...you think just ‘cause i’ve only known you for a day, that i don’t know you? ❞ ❝ if you think you’re dying, it can kill you. ❞ ❝ you can’t be overdressed or overarmed. ❞ ❝ follow me and i’ll gut you like a fish. ❞ ❝ half of you is always in shadow, no matter how well lit the room is. ❞ ❝ i’m the diamond, you’re the rough. ❞ ❝ you can rest now...i never will. ❞ ❝ men. if they had half a brain, they’d be considered gifted. ❞ ❝ quit your whinging and fight. ❞ ❝ i know if we fought together, things would be different. ❞ ❝ pain...death...nothing phases me. ❞ ❝ they say you’re most alive when you’re in love. ❞ ❝ your final hour can’t be escaped. embrace it. ❞ ❝ i may not look like a fighter, but strength isn’t everything. ❞ ❝ you ain’t that bright if you want to take me on. ❞ ❝ come on, you can’t forget this face. ❞ ❝ we are our future, not our past. ❞ ❝ my light shines bright. ❞ ❝ no one is truly innocent, so we all deserve help. ❞ ❝ i just got you back in my life. i can’t lose you again. ❞ ❝ i once shot someone for just not giving me a message. but that shouldn't scare you...much. ❞ ❝ don’t blame yourself, i deserve the credit. ❞ ❝ never forget that no matter how big you are, the world is always bigger. ❞ ❝ don’t confuse my kindness with weakness. ❞ ❝ i can already smell the blood. ❞ ❝ no, it’s ‘vintage’. there’s a difference. ‘old’ is bad. ‘vintage’ is good. ❞ ❝ like a deer in the headlights...and i’m the headlights. ❞ ❝ you’re looking at a fighter. what am i looking at? ❞ ❝ you need to love what you do, care about what you do, and believe in your ability to do what you do. ❞ ❝ i don’t fear anything. can you say the same? ❞ ❝ we all have our reasons. don’t take this personally. ❞ ❝ let’s just say a little birdie told me all about you. ❞ ❝ that little voice saying there’s still hope? it’s lying. ❞ ❝ shhh...it’s just a bad dream. ❞ ❝ do you have any more questions that might illuminate your ignorance? ❞ ❝ i’m tired of you saving my life. ❞ ❝ does this mean we’re friends now? ❞ ❝ somebody has to lose. that’s just how this works. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry it had to be this way. ❞ ❝ you can only trust those who you know are liars. ❞ ❝ it’s an honor to fight alongside someone with the passion of fire that burns a thousand suns. ❞ ❝ i can see it in your eyes that you have the courage to climb to your rightful place over those who wronged you. ❞ ❝ i know what you’re looking for. come see me. ❞ ❝ may the gods bless you. ❞ ❝ what a sad little creature you are. ❞ ❝ you call yourself a legend? how unwarranted. ❞ ❝ i know what i like, and i know how to get it. ❞ ❝ you’ve got to watch your back. you can’t trust others to do it for you. ❞ ❝ you found me. good eyes. ❞ ❝ someone had to show you your place. ❞ ❝ greed will eat your mortal sorrow. ❞ ❝ you burned bright, but you burned out. ❞ ❝ you did your best...unfortunately. ❞ ❝ want advice? shoot first. ❞ ❝ think carefully about what brought you to this moment. very carefully. ❞ ❝ that may have felt like overkill. it was. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen it all. today’s no different. ❞ ❝ without pain the body suffers in silence. ❞ ❝ bleed, patch, and keep moving. ❞ ❝ i’m not hard to understand. death is my language. ❞ ❝ the biggest trap is your own mind. ❞ ❝ don’t look for sympathy. you won’t find it. ❞ ❝ you can beg for mercy. it won’t help, but go on. ❞ ❝ you’re already falling for me. ❞ ❝ they’ve already forgotten you. ❞ ❝ i’m a lone wolf with a bite. ❞ ❝ don’t beat yourself up. leave that to me. ❞ ❝ another day, another road. ❞ ❝ look for me, and what you wil see you will never forget. ❞ ❝ watch out: i’ll eat you alive. ❞ ❝ labels are a curse, and a target. ❞ ❝ this direction calls to me. let us go. ❞ ❝ you did not fail. you played your part to its end. ❞ ❝ do i have something on my face? you look at me strangely. ❞ ❝ i’ve been described as deadly and beautiful, but i am also approachable. ❞ ❝ humanity is just a word. ❞ ❝ i don’t settle. i’m not made that way. ❞ ❝ the sheer terror that comes with dying...i remember it well. ❞ ❝ now this...this is worth living for. ❞ ❝ once a fight gets too noisy, i bring the silence. ❞ ❝ i don’t consider death cruel, but life is. ❞ ❝ what’s your name? i have to know. ❞ ❝ you should smile more. ❞ ❝ even when you are helping, you are appalling. ❞ ❝ life won’t flash before your eyes. it just...ends. ❞ ❝ the rabbit’s cries brings the wolves. ❞ ❝ so then again i ask, why the frown? ❞ ❝ i hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ i like my women like i like my sake: cool and filtered and on someone else’s tab. ❞ ❝ only fight the battles you know you can win. ❞ ❝ i wanted you to know: you’re still here. at my side. in my heart. in my ear. on the tip of my tongue. and you always will be. ❞ ❝ my former collegues would have eaten you alive. ❞ ❝ i will crush everything that stands in my way. everything. ❞ ❝ i am the master of my fate. ❞ ❝ you fight without honor. stragetic. but you also fight without skill. ❞ ❝ rats can be taught. you are something lesser. ❞ ❝ cast off your fear. now is the time for fascination. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a face like a wet weekend, mate. ❞ ❝ i never forget. i wait for your inevitable misstep. ❞ ❝ i’ll regret that decision until the day i die. ❞ ❝ sometimes you get tired of running, i understand, but you can’t ever stop. ❞ ❝ no one is coming to save you. no one ever was. ❞ ❝ i see my reputation precedes me. ❞ ❝ you’re a fragile little fly, just like the others. i’ll pull your wings off eventually. ❞ ❝ i wish there was more time to spend with you. ❞ ❝ i kept you in the dark about a lot of things...it sounds bad, but it was safer if you didn’t know. ❞ ❝ i pray you found peace. that, above all else, is what matters the most. ❞ ❝ i find no pleasure in taking a life that doesn’t appreciate it. ❞ ❝ ever get the feeling you’re not alone? you’re not. ❞  ❝ there’s still time to run. ❞ ❝ are you still watching? good. this next part is just for you.  ❞ ❝ you kill, i create. this is why i win. ❞ ❝ i fight for the accused, the cursed...the exceptional. ❞ ❝ do not believe any rumors about me that i have not started. ❞ ❝ i don’t figure myself as the best. just as everyone else being the worst. ❞ ❝ you mind if i don’t feel bad for you? right, thanks mate. ❞ ❝ time to go home to your loved ones. ❞ ❝ stand out, or stand aside. ❞ ❝ if you don’t like what you see, put a bag over your head. ❞ ❝ legend...huh. sometimes we all pretend to be something we’re not. ❞ ❝ i’ve been watching you. ❞ ❝ i will not be cast aside. ❞ ❝ i know what i came for. i’ll get it one way or another. ❞ ❝ you can only hide from the inevitable from so long. ❞ ❝ until we meet again. ❞ ❝ if i flirt with you, will that make you move faster? ❞ ❝ no. you don’t get to die before i do. ❞ ❝ you alright, mate? looking a bit messy. ❞ ❝ why can’t i just die already? ❞ ❝ do not look away. courage first, my friend. ❞ ❝ it appears intelligence is just a word to you. ❞ ❝ i’ve never heard of you. ❞ ❝ sometimes you lose, sometimes you’re me. ❞ ❝ quitting is for losers. ❞ ❝ i do not fight to be accepted. i fight to be free of your acceptance. ❞ ❝ know your place. ❞ ❝ cherish the lesson you’re about to learn. ❞ ❝ i do not wait for inspiration; i take it. ❞ ❝ can’t let your guard down because if you do, someone better will take advantage of it. ❞ ❝ i’m also a good liar. ❞ ❝ you will achieve greatness. just not in victory. ❞ ❝ do not hide your true colours. they are your strength. ❞ ❝ a lady never kills and tells. ❞ ❝ you saved me. careful, people will talk. ❞ ❝ i’m not one for bragging but... ❞ ❝ sure, you have reasons. don't we all. ❞ ❝ fancy seeing you here. figured you’d be dead by now. ❞ ❝ that looked like it hurt. ❞ ❝ don’t take this personally but i just don’t like your style. or your face. or just literally anything about you. ❞ ❝ science is precise...as am i. ❞ ❝ didn’t your parents teach you manners? ❞ ❝ i have no regrets. it’s not in my dna. ❞ ❝ this isn’t personal. you’re just in my way. ❞ ❝ don’t blame yourself. you have a whole family that failed you. ❞ ❝ want advice? stay out of my way. ❞ ❝ my methods are only controversial to those who lack imagination. ❞ ❝ you can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape yourself. ❞ ❝ have you said your goodbyes? ❞ ❝ i’d thank everyone who helped me get here, but they’re all dead. ❞ ❝ no flirting. ❞ ❝ too bad your parents aren’t here to see this. ❞ ❝ careful, i’ll steal more than just your heart. ❞ ❝ where’s your sense of style? ❞ ❝ can’t any of you stop me? unlikely. ❞ ❝ a mind is like a blade...mine is hone. yours is dull. ❞ ❝ many have made the mistake of crossing me. many more will make it today. ❞ ❝ well, i suppose i would’ve understimated me too. ❞ ❝ ah, well that was a little careless of you, love. ❞ ❝ this isn’t between you and me. this is between you and a promise i mean to keep. ❞ ❝ this is your problem. you give up too easily! ❞ ❝ the truth. tell me the truth. ❞ ❝ you had an opportunity to impress me...what a waste. ❞ ❝ what you attempt to do to me comes back to you...tenfold. ❞ ❝ the best revenge is cold as steel. ❞ ❝ i have crushed far more impressive fighters than you. ❞ ❝ let nothing distract you from the fight. ❞ ❝ the competition is lacking. i’ve had no choice but to step in personally. ❞ ❝ the war might be over...but the fight isn’t. never is. ❞ ❝ don’t go making that face at me. you know full well you signed up for this. ❞ ❝ ooh, could get messy, i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ a powerful woman knows what she wants. ❞ ❝ you and me are in this together. remember that. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to make it quick. that’ll spoil the fun. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. and then i’ll break everything else. ❞ ❝ aww, you think you’re tough? ❞ ❝ beauty is pain. ❞ ❝ oh no, did that hurt darling? ❞ ❝ i fought nightmares all my life. you don’t scare me. ❞ ❝ your achievements are as meaningless as you are. ❞ ❝ come on, let’s see if we’re a match. ❞ ❝ you know, deep down, the real curse? is loving you. ❞ ❝ you’re supposed to be a killer. so prove it. ❞ ❝ there's a reason you put up all those walls... ❞ ❝ you've received the gift of life, and what do you do with it? make it all about you. ❞ ❝ how else did you expect it to end? alone. unwanted. and deservedly unloved. ❞ ❝ no one gives a crap who’s better, all i care about is who’s the best. ❞ ❝ you think you’ll make out of this alive? ❞ ❝ you’ve spent your whole life hiding behind someone else’s shadow. ❞ ❝ you devoted life to a fairy tale, shunning every soul who bothered to care about you.   ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, but you’re in my way. ❞ ❝ face death with dignity...or don’t. ❞ ❝ no more running. not from the fortune you waste, the friends you manipulate, or the parents who can't stand you. misery can't be outrun. ❞ ❝ least you’re not becoming your mom, right? ❞ ❝ you chose this emptiness. sink in it. ❞ ❝ no thanks needed. buy me a drink, though. ❞ ❝ you are not indestructible as you think. come on. ❞ ❝ you're not used to feeling this way. powerless. ineffective. impotent. well, there's a first time for everything. ❞ ❝ talk about them again. i dare you. ❞ ❝ i have centuries of self-loathing to work through. ❞ ❝ it’s not worth it. shut it down. give up. ❞ ❝ i’m just pulling your leg, it’s totally for the babes. ❞ ❝ if i can be honest, i just like the killing. ❞ ❝ make a corpse, and you’ll get some flies. ❞ ❝ oh, you...i love our banter. ❞ ❝ it isn’t easy. i just make it look that way. ❞ ❝ you’re worse than i remembered - somehow. ❞ ❝ unfortunately, some jobs don’t go according to plan. ❞ ❝ i was...careless. too attached. ❞ ❝ my focus is on a greater goal. i cannot be distracted. ❞ ❝ i ain’t staying down. never do. ❞ ❝ too bad your mama and papa aren't here. i would've enjoyed seeing their disgust at the monster their little girl has become. ❞ ❝ i've been knocked down, taken out, hit from both sides hundreds of times. ❞ ❝ i'm growing as a person, but i’m still me. ❞ ❝ i can’t say i’m pleased with how deep you dug into my past. ❞ ❝ the hell with that and the hell with you. ❞ ❝ you think you’re the victim? what about me? what about what i lost? ❞ ❝ i always pay my respects to your family. does that make me soft? ❞ ❝ i was bored until you came along. ❞ ❝ do not cross me, or my blade will cross you. ❞ ❝ when you’re after a big prize, you don’t just walk in and take it. first, you have to do the legwork. ❞ ❝ let’s take a seat, this might take awhile. ❞ ❝ if i ever let you down, it’s probably because i grew tired of carrying you. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to be here anymore than you do. ❞ ❝ then comes my favourite part...the screaming. ❞ ❝ i plan on getting under your skin. ❞ ❝ they say i use humor as a defense mechanism. ❞ ❝ any last words? i must know. ❞ ❝ don’t bother trying to find me. i’ll find you. ❞ ❝ last people i killed looked hopeful too. ❞  ❝ i don’t do this for fame or glory. i do this for fun. ❞ ❝ being human is overrated. ❞

I’m More of a Cat Person. Aizawa x Inuyasha.

Let me first say that I am so sorry and I blame my friends. This was originally suggested as an impossible crack ship. So naturally my feral brain couldn’t and wouldn’t let it go. I’m still working on my other, serious stuff. This just held me hostage until I finished it. Formatting is probably a mess because I’m on mobile right now. Will edit later.

Content Warning-

Not SFW. Crack treated seriously. Aged up Character. (Inuyasha written as in his mid thirties or so.) Lime. Fade to black sex scene. Drunk sex. Dubcon. Hickeys. Implication of switching. Love motels. Cheese. Slight AU.

Shouta slumped on the bar. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting at the sticky, stinking counter. The number of glasses seemed to indicate it’s been a while. Of course that might not be accurate. It’s a little hazy, but he recalls knocking drinks back at an alarming rate earlier. And this wasn’t the kind of place that cared about overserving sad sacks of shit like himself. He buried his head in his arms and groaned quietly. Sloshed as he was, he still hadn’t hit a point of being drunk enough to forget about what had happened earlier that day. The way Zashi and Nemuri had looked at each other as they had announced their relationship in the break room. How they had laughed when they said it had been a long time coming. He had noticed the two hadn’t invited him out quite as much as they had used to, but he felt like a fool for not spotting the signs sooner. Shouta raised his hand and called for another shot as memory after stubborn memory refused to leave his brain. The ghostly feeling of Hizashi throwing his arm around his shoulders and telling him how he’d totally set him up on a date with somebody particularly stung.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the clink of two glasses being set in front of him. He blinks several times to make sure his eyes are still focusing. Yep. Two glasses. He looks questioningly at the bartender. The bartender shrugs and points to a booth on the other side of the room. A tall, white haired man in a red suit raised a glass and smirked.

Aizawa knew he shouldn’t. He was not remotely in the right mindset to be doing anything right now. Unfortunately, impulse control has siddled out the door about eight shots ago. Shouta downed the shot he had ordered himself, before picking up the second glass and standing. Only his years of hero training kept him from wobbling as he made his way across the room. The white haired man’s gaze didn’t leave him as he made his way to the table. Shouta leaned on the table and looked the other man over. He was handsome, despite his somewhat garish outfit. His hair was long and loose. Two white pointed ears twitched on top of his head. It was hard to gauge the other’s age, but probably was somewhere around his thirties. Shouta gave a smirk as he spoke.

“White hair, red suit. Guess I have to say thanks for the gift, Santa.”

The white haired man threw back his head and laughed, making a pair of pointed fangs visible. Aizawa tried to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of them. The stranger held out a hand with some dangerous looking nails. “Well I suppose that depends on if you’ve been a good boy or not,” he purred.

Shouta couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him at that statement. He shook the stranger’s hand as he slid into the booth with him. The glasses on the table seemed to indicate that whoever the white haired man was, his evening was going just about as well as Shouta’s. Shouta licked his lips before saying softly. “I’m Shouta.”

A fanged smirk met that statement. “Inuyasha. Look, Shouta, I’m going to be blunt. I’ve been watching you for a while and it looks like maybe your misery could use a little company.”

Shouta leaned back in his seat, regarding this Inuyasha for a few moments. “Bad night for you too?”

Inuyasha nodded. “Yeah. And I’m looking to make it better.”

This was crazy. Shouta wasn’t going to have a one night stand with a stranger from one of the seediest bars he knew. They both were drunk and upset. Yet here he was, standing and offering a hand to this other man. “Well then, what are we still doing here? There’s a love motel a couple blocks away.”

Inuyasha grabbed his hand and gave a near feral grin as he stood. “Just let me settle our tabs.”

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, but didn’t complain. If a handsome man was going to offer to pay his probably sizable bill, he wasn’t going to complain. He downed the last of his drink as he waited. It wasn’t long before Inuyasha returned, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get out of here, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.” Shouta mumbled, slinging his own arm around the other man.

“Babe, Sweetheart, Kitty Cat~” Inuyasha cackled louder than was necessary.

Aizawa attempted to elbow him in the ribs, stumbling in the process. “Shut up, mutt.”

The two bickered as they made their wobbly way out the door and down the street to the love hotel. Soon enough, they had paid for a room and were stumbling their way to it. Aizawa draped himself over Inuyasha’s back, nibbling at the other man’s neck as he fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door.

The door lock finally cooperated and the men nearly fell in, kicking the door closed behind them. They were on each other in seconds, pawing at each other’s clothes. Lips came together, and tongues battled for dominance. Teeth nipped each other’s lips, hard enough to bruise. Alcohol buzzing through their veins, they fell to the bed, and time became a blur of motion and touch, give and take.

The next morning, Aizawa awoke to a pounding headache. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his eyes throbbed more than usual. Blindly, he reached out to grab for his alarm clock to check the time. It was then Aizawa became immediately aware of a few things. He was not in his bed. It really hurt to move anything at all. There was someone wrapped around his back like an oversized octopus. With some difficulty and dread, Shouta slowly rolled over to face his bed companion.

The first thing he noticed was the pointed, white, twitching dog ears. As Shouta took in the other man’s face and the trail of hickeys leading from his neck downward, Shouta began remembering bits and pieces of the night that had transpired. A quick glance down and he confirmed with a resigned groan that his body also was covered in evidence of their night time activities. Bite makes, hickeys, bruises, scratches. It looked like he’d come out on the wrong side of a fight with a bear. He was so busy inspecting his minor injuries, that it took him a moment to notice the pair of golden eyes blinking up at him.

“Morning, Wildcat.” Inuyasha gave a flirtatious wink before stretching, groaning as his joints popped. The sheets pooled around his hips, showing off the impressive amounts of marks on his skin. Shouta didn’t answer as he turned away to hide a blush. He’s not a virgin by any means, but he’s never done anything remotely close to this before. Looking for a distraction, he leaned over the edge of the bed, rummaging through discarded clothing until he found his phone. He squinted at the screen, his hungover brain trying to make sense of the numbers. When he finally did, he jolted upright, ignoring the way his muscles screamed. “Fuck!”

Inuyasha made a questioning hum, reaching over and gently rubbing the tense muscles between Aizawa’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m late for school!” Aizawa scrambled off the bed, hunting for his pants.

“You? Late for school? Kinda doubt that.” Inuyasha leaned back, letting his eyes rack over the dark haired man as he hopped on one leg, struggling into his pants.

“I’m a fucking teacher!” Aizawa yelled as he finished pulling up his pants, bending over as he swiped up his shirt.

“You are indeed a fucking teacher.” Inuyasha smirked, lazily scratching his head. “Want me to call you a cab?”

Aizawa thought for a moment as he adjusted his shirt and began to wrap his capture weapon around his neck, making sure all hickeys were covered. “No. Will be faster if I run from here.”

The dog eared man stood, stretching languidly. “If you say so. We should do this again sometime when you aren’t in a rush. Let me treat you to breakfast or something.”

“Not happening.” Shouta said as he shrugged his jacket on. “This is not happening again. This shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Ouch. Kitty cat has claws in the morning. Come on now, you can’t say you didn’t have a good time.” Inuyasha grinned, pulling his own shirt over his head.

Aizawa shook his head as he made sure he had his jacket and wallet and he quickly walked to the door. “I don’t need or want a damn puppy sniffing around me and my business. We can forget last night ever happened. You won’t see me again and I won’t see you again. Besides.” Aizawa couldn’t keep himself from throwing one final taunt over his shoulder. “I’m much more of a cat person.” And with that, Aizawa let the door bang closed behind him. If he ran, he might not be noticeably late.

Inuyasha sighed, staring at the closed door. He had just been seeking a one night stand last night. But from what details his fuzzy mind supplied, the night had gone a lot better than anything he’d had in a long time. It really would have been nice if he could have gotten at least a phone number out of last night’s bed partner. They certainly had been physically compatible. Trying not to feel too put out, he puts on the rest of his clothing. As he double checks that he has everything, Inuyasha notices something bright yellow half hidden under the bed.

He bends down, and finds what appear to be a pair of bright yellow goggles. Closer inspection shows that they’re clearly expensive and heavily used hero equipment. A fanged smirk slowly stretches across his lips. After all, he couldn’t let the grumpy kitty cat escape without his things, could he? Returning it would simply be the responsible thing to do. With a feral grin in place, Inuyasha tucked the goggles into his jacket pocket and whistled as he made his way out the door.

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 30

Prompt: Night Rating: G Words: 1,804 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nicolo Morelli Summary: This is the fic, if it were a show, that would be titled The Boys Talk About Their Feelings.  AKA, Unit Delta (D for Demotion!) field missions are boring as hell. Note: The mention of a certain type of shapeshifting animal is a nod to the Wayhaven Writers Group and a certain Saturday book club reading.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Stakeouts were usually the most boring thing Nicky could think of doing.  Nothing usually happened on them and he hated staying still in one place.  At least this time he was partnered up with his Commanding Agent so the company was good and he didn’t have to sit out in his car freezing his ass off alone.

“You think there’s going to be any movement?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.  Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea he had, seeing that he’ll have to go out and find a tree or nearby bush take a piss behind sometime within the next hour or so, but the coffee was hot and he needed something to keep him awake.  Napping while doing boring surveillance was a surefire way to make sure that something important did happen that he would unfortunately miss.

“Probably not.”  Cam relaxed in the driver’s seat and grabbed a snack sized bag of chips he’d packed.  Stakeouts always made him hungry and it was one of the few times that he liked to indulge in junk food and convenience store ready made meals, especially if Nicky was around.  It was funny, the man had serious Opinions, capital O and everything, when it came to restaurant food, but the two of them could tear up a 7-11 if left alone without adult supervision, namely Penny and Winona.  “Looks like this is another wasted evening.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”  Nicky raised the night vision goggles he had been messing with and pointed towards some people who were walking away from their car.  “I think that’s a drug deal.”

Cam, who had no need for night vision goggles, tracked Nicky’s finger and rolled his eyes.  “Nick, those are kids.  They look like they’re twelve.”

“Then they’re out past curfew.  We should sneak up and scare the hell out of them.”

Cam gave him a disbelieving look before opening his chip bag.  “I’m not going to scare a few kids just because they’re walking home in the dark.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You want to be the next cryptid creepypasta on Reddit or somewhere, be my guest.  This isn’t the sixteen hundreds where you just had to worry about being stabbed if these kids were carrying knives, Nicky.  Kids these days are probably carrying mace and knives and I for one do not wish to spend my evening cold and covered in pepper spray.”

Nicky caught Cam mumbling especially when I could be spending my evening someplace better under his breath.  “So, scaring a few juveniles is out of the picture and we both know that tonight’s another wild evening of sitting in the car watching these two were...were-” he turned to Cam.  “What sort of shapeshifters are they again?”

“Bears.  The husband and wife are on thin ice for apparently attacking a home intruder.  They shifted into bear form while attacking her because they were afraid for their children sleeping upstairs.”

Nicky ran a hand over his face.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  We’re dealing with the case that some of the agents are dubbing the Goldilocks Affair?”

Cam sighed.  “Look, I didn’t name it.  I feel bad for them, they were just defending their home.”

“Yeah, but they could have beaned her upside the head with a bat, they didn’t have to practically claw her to death.  From what I heard, the Agency had to go in as a group of doctors to memory wipe her and make her believe that she was out jogging in the woods when she slipped and fell down a ravine.”

“How did they make her injuries look like she fell?  I saw the file report, there were definitely bite marks involved.”

“You got me, you know how I feel about the Agency when they start doing shady shit like this.”

Cam nodded, grabbing the binoculars on the dash and looking around the area.  He paused when he saw the husband stare out the window, his hand at the curtain.  “I can’t believe that these people think that we’re here as security, just in case the woman has friends who figure things out and want to retaliate.”  He gave a brief wave back when the man waved at them. 

Nicky dug in the plastic bag full of food and pulled out a waxed package.  Unwrapping it, he took a bite of the handheld fried pie inside, the chocolate filling seeping out from the edges.   “I guess it’s better than them being paranoid and knowing that we’re here to look into them to make sure they don’t start making a habit of eating people in the privacy of their own home.”  Nicky stretched his long legs in front of him and started tapping a wordless tune on the car’s console as he chewed.  “So, you and Penny, huh?”

Cam stiffened.  He was wondering how long it would take for Nicky to bring that up. It had been a few days since Cam had told Nicky of his and Penny’s relationship, and he was surprised that it took their friend this long to start to pry again. “Yes, me and Penny.  I thought we went over this already.”

Nicky grinned and playfully punched him in the arm.  “We went over the fact that you and her were an item, and the fact that you were going to be a prude and not tell me a single sex-related thing, but we never really went over how the two of you went from sighing and mooning over the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking to holding hands and leaving socks on doorknobs.”

He rolled his eyes.  “There’s not much to explain?  I asked her out to dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t asking her out as a friend.  She agreed and we spent the evening talking about how much we wanted our relationship to change.”

“That,” Nicky spat, flopping in his seat and leaning his head back dramatically against the headrest, “has got to be the most boring of how I met my girlfriend stories I’ve ever heard.  Where is the drama?  The emotion?  The sizzling lust that finally gets to ignite after years of longing?”

Cam laughed.  “Sorry to disappoint.”

“This is the worst.  Twenty years, I’ve waited for payoff to all the pining and this is what I get?  Disgusting.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, Nicky.  When are you going to tell me about you and your surprise wife?”  As if by magic, Nicky’s phone lit up with a text notification from Isabela.  

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, swiping at his phone and giving the picture on his lock screen a fond smile before opening up their chat.  “I told her I’d be working tonight, but she was free to text.  Didn’t think that you would want to hear me whisper sweet nothings into my phone or else I would have said that it would have been okay for her to call me.”

“Thanks,” Cam deadpanned, finishing his chips and digging into the bag for the sandwich he’d bought.  “But Nicolo, are you actually okay with this?  I mean, the woman put a spell on you that won’t let you die, didn’t try to find you and made it impossible for you to find her when she was pregnant with your daughter, and from what you told us, stabbed you to death when you went to meet her.”

Nicky shrugged.  “We all have our flaws.”

“Nicky, she killed you.  You were dead on her kitchen floor.  If that’s not a red flag that this relationship is toxic, I don’t know what is.”

“And I’ve been dead in many other places over the course of my life, that isn’t new.”  Nicky had a faint smile on his face as he finished texting.  “This, Cameron.  This talking with a woman and slowly getting to know her instead of heavily flirting just to get into her bed for a brief fling?  This is new.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know yet.  Part of me doesn’t want to put too much hope in this working out because I don’t want to be disappointed if the other shoe drops, but part of me does want this to work out.”  He lifted his phone as it vibrated with her reply.  “I’ve gotten to know my daughter, Cam.  Having a family wasn’t quite the first thing on my mind back when I was still alive.  I thought I had time to play around and be the romantic, but really I was just being a fool.  And I’ve continued to be the fool all these years because it was easier to fall back on that aspect of my life instead of growing up.”

Cam shook his head.  “Come on, Nicky, I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.  You’ve been a fine asset to this unit and there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back than you.”

“Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.”  He looked at him.  “And you know that I trust you and our team with mine. You’re my brother, Cameron, even if I am older than you by a few centuries.”

“Family is important, and I hope that whatever happens with yours works out for you.”  He paused.  “But really, what do you think will happen between you and Isabela?  Will you ask her to come here?  Would you leave the Agency?”

“I don’t know.  You know how Facility life is, Cam.  She’s a witch who’s had her own space for centuries, she’d hate it here.”  Nicky laughed as he took another sip of his coffee.  “Then again, could you see me as a civilian?  I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, especially since I wouldn’t have the same salary to buy all the shiny new gadgets I can get my hands on here, not to mention having disposable income to get bespoke clothing whenever I feel like it.” 

“I’ve seen stranger things, though I’ve got to admit, seeing you in a day job?  That would be the weirdest sight of all.  What would you even do?”

“I could always be a food critic.”

Cam snorted, but hid the sound by opening up a can of soda.  “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure that you would be brilliant at it.”  He eyed him.  “And don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not pushing you out of the unit either.  I would love to have you around forever.”

“An eternity watching werebear houses and making sure that little tea shops run by witches were up to code?”  Nicky drained his coffee cup and reached into the bag for an energy drink Winona would have had a conniption over if she’d been there to see him drink. .  “Count me in.”

Thoughts of the past, hopes for the future and no time like the present.

Warning time peeps, child abuse, heavy angst, one good siblingand one really sucky set of parents. One side note is nothing going to fluff til the end this is so darling (reader) understands him a bit better and so we flush him out a bit.

As Valent walked to the dinning table where his precious flower was happily setting up plates for breakfast, unfortunately sometime this week Silva would visit.

"Hey Valent I was wondering if you could tell me more about the time you first met your sister?" She tilted her head to the right, smiled and set the last fork down, "And pray tell do I get out of all of this, cause that's lot of pain to drag up this time." This was to shut her up, he was happy that she wanted to get to know him but remembering those times just hurt, the old scars start to show and rip again.

"How about massive cuddles and you get to choose what we do for the next week and I can't say no." She slid to my side and wrapped an arm around my waist and the other around my chest in a hug, she wasn't making this easy, "ok but first we eat then I begrudgingly tell you about Silva and how she saved me." She smiled brighter, "Sweet, I can't wait to meet my ..... Sister in law or new sib sib?" With that she let go and danced her way to the kitchen to get the food.

After we ate I moved to the living room and took off my shirt, this was kinda important, I dropped my glamour and several scars showed up, one that wrapped around my upper arm, three claw marks on my left pec to my belly, and matching ones on my hips in the form of four claws each.

"Oh my Vally are you ok those had to hurt, I.... What I've never seen those before." She had gasped and moved her hands up to her mouth, I sat her down, "Where to begin let start easy my arm." As he started talking he could see it clear as day in his mind.

He was seven and learning table manners, his dad to the right looking over scrolls of problems sent in by the demons he was take care of, to the left his tutors, one for each subject he was to master by 20, he was doing everything right then like a flash of lightning his dad gripped his arm tight and snarled, "you ingrate, you never lean on the table, never turn your red eyes apon me and never bother Silva or the others boy, I only tolerate you cause you have my blood but know this I will kill you should you step out of line." With that I felt my arm burn, I didn't scream nor did I cry but I did wince.

When he was done he walked away to check on my other sibling and I was left with a mark on my upper arm, which looked like a ring of thorns.

As he finished the story he saw her touch the puckered skin and gave it a small kiss.

Next one was on my chest, "This was a concubine decided that I was in the way, Silva wasn't happy." This one no matter how old he was he'd never forget. As the story started he saw Azalea.

How to describe Azalea, fair black hair, black eyes, purple horns, blue lips, flat as a board, whip like tail and about 5'6. SHE. WAS. A. ROYAL. CUNT. She was the mother of Silva and Hydrangea, the two oldest. I was in her tender loving care she hate me for no real reason I was sure of it but I was left with her for two months, she was with out her daughters the entire time.

As the tension rises as well as her anger, resentment and hatred. So she did what she always did when she wanted something or someone gone, I was sixteen at the time. What I didn't know was Silva was due to be home any minute now, I was trying to avoid her and stay in the garden. As fate would have it so was Azalea, she calmly moved twards me for the first time ever making me wary, as she passed by me she spoke, "dearest son would you come to dinner your lovely sister will be there." Then she left. I knew better then going but if Azalea accepted me than so would the others. Little did I know that she was going to hurt herself and than blame it on me.

As I got ready for dinner I got a knock on the door and a unknown voice said I had the cloths for dinner cause the concubine has specific taste, so i let them in. I saw my sister the first time.

Shiney mid back silver hair, pink almond eyes, medium nose, a bright smile, periwinkle horns and snake like tail, athletic build, about 5'5 in human form. I knew who she was from the big painting around my prison. "You should be in here you'll get us both in trouble." I tried to usher her out but she just laughed. "Dear brother, I'm here too meet you and say hi. I came back a week early for this." She bounced lightly, she was about 250 years old and being groomed to take over the throne.

"do you not hear the king, you are not my sister, I am a cousin visiting. Please leave me alone." Nothing I said would make her leave, so we ended up talking for awhile, once we saw the time we hurried down stairs at different ends. She runs to see her loving mother and I was hoping that this was going to be fine but expecting the worst and once again I was proven right.

Azalea was covered in cuts, gashes and bruses, crying and sobbing. She pointed to me and said I did it, "He scratched me up saying that I would pay, I've done nothing to him and he just attacked me." She keep going on and on. Silva heard her say something about it was before dinner that he came into her room at this Silva cut her mother off. "He couldn't have done that, I was with him the entire time. I picked out his cloths." At this her mother lunged at me trying to rip my heart out, my sister moved me out of the way but I still got very deep gashes. Silva yelled at her mother as passed out.

Once awoke I saw Silva mending my wounds and muttering I'm sorry lil bro and baby bro. Once she let me sit up, all of my chest was bound in white stained in red, great yet another reminder that he doesn't belong so he thanked her and tried to leave but she stopped him.

"Dear brother you are to stay by my side till you recover, you may not protest cause as the future queen I have final say so shut up and live with it." With that I could no longer protest.

As I faded back to my delicate flower she pet the scars on my chest. " I think I've heard enough this is too much right now." She cuddled into me, I sighed, "you look better without your glamour cutie.".

I grabbed the blanket settled in, "any movies you wanna watch or just some music?"

"how about 51st dates or any romcom really." She giggled, handed me the remote, yeeted the empty bag of chocolate and other comforts. "Let's not dwell on the past, let's think of the new possiblitys, maybe next time we can talk bout the darlings, that makes me happy."

Part two soon I swear!

Too Weak to Fly (chapter 5)

Back to chapter 1

Well... that took forever, sorry about that. I hit a really bad writer’s block and it took a while to get past it. (this chapter might feel a bit rusty because of that, but, hopefully, still palatable)

@cosmic-malarky Thank you again for prodding me! 💖

@swanheart69 @boysinperil @agentlokii

___________

Chapter 5

 “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” William Congreve it was who’d coined the phrase back in 1697, the adage that had since been paraphrased and entrenched firmly in the public conscience.

 Mr. Congreve had never met Aziraphale.

 ***

Two days.

 Two days he sits on that cursed bloodstained mattress, cradling the pale, lifeless vessel that used to contain his best friend, his sole companion for the millennia he spent here on this Earth, his love, his life.  

 Two days he grieves, keening in anguish and despair until his voice gives out and his throat burns, shredded raw from his screams.  And he welcomes that physical pain, insignificant though it is. Clings to it with the fervor of one caught in a tempest of pain emotional that rages within him, clawing at his very essence, leaving wide, bleeding furrows in its wake, reminding him again and again of what he’d lost and how utterly powerless he was to stop that loss from happening.  Anathema, bless her soul, tried to console him, pointing out that Crowley isn’t truly dead.  He knows that.  He knows that, of course, but it doesn’t really matter.  Hell had Crowley back in its clutches now, weakened and defenseless without his powers.  And, best case scenario, they were going to torture him, horribly, sadistically, until they brought about his complete destruction. Worst case – that torment would last forever, no intermissions, no reprieve of death.  Either way they were never going to let him out again.  Aziraphale was never again going to see him.  

Two days he pleads and bargains and begs of the God that wouldn’t listen to turn back the clock, to give him time, to give them time.  Because they had so little time to be truly together, just the two of them, on their own side, free of the restraints of Heaven and Hell that had kept them apart all those years.  Because he was just beginning to learn how to let go of the millennia of indoctrination and fear; how to relax into the reality of their new relationship, how to convey to his beloved demon the true depth of the feelings he has repressed for so long… and how to atone to him for all the years of cruel rejections and faint-hearted lies.  Because they deserved so much more than these ten short years, and it just wasn’t fair!

 And then he gets angry. 

It is the kind of anger he’s never felt before.  A terrible, blinding fury to match the equally terrible pain that’s ripping him from the inside.   It’s powerful, it’s dangerous, and it’s begging to be let out.

 It doesn’t matter that it’s already too late and Crowley’s gone.  Doesn’t matter that there’s no point in swinging one’s fists (“or brandishing your sword, Angel”, as Crowley himself liked to say) after the fighting’s done.  It doesn’t matter, because all he can think about is that little white-walled cottage in South Downs and an enormous pair of black iridescent wings intertwining intimately with his own and the most beautiful golden eyes gleaming warmly at him in the desire-seeped darkness of their bedroom….  

That was supposed to be his future, their future. Hell had no right to take it from them.  And now? Now they were going to pay for it.

 The punishment lifts, as it was supposed to, two days later, when the first hint of the sunrise brushes the night-blackened skies.  And he feels like crying as the dizzying, heady rush of power comes flooding back into his essence, because it’s two days too late.  He soaks it in nevertheless, welcoming it like an old and dearly missed friend, as it sweeps through him, reclaiming lost ground.  He feels almost complete now, the missing part of him slotting perfectly back into its rightful place, filling in the gaping void left by its absence…. Almost.  

 Almost.  Because there’s a Crowley-shaped hole at the very heart of his being, ripped out with a brutal, damaging force that left behind torn, bleeding edges.  And it burns. It burns despite the soothing presence of his powers. Burns with all the ferocity of Hellfire.  

 He clings to that pain.  Harnesses it. Lets it further fuel the towering blaze of fury that rages within him, roaring for vengeance. And that dark wrath, that terrifying need for retribution that no proper, God-abiding angel would ever even tolerate in their presence – for the first time in his long, long life Aziraphale is neither scared nor repulsed by it.  He welcomes it with open arms.

 He hugs Crowley’s body closer, gentle, deliberately, achingly gentle despite the violent storm within him.  Presses one final, reverent kiss to the ice-cold brow.  Lets himself linger another moment, face buried in the matted flame-red locks, breathing in the fading remnants of his demon’s scent.  He should have been faster that day, should have listened to Crowley.  Should have protected his demon as Crowley had always protected him.  Some Guardian he was…. But then he’d always gone too slow, hadn’t he.  Well, no more.  

 “Forgive me, my love,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with the grit of guilt and tears. “I won’t tarry here much longer.”  

 And he won’t. There’s nothing for him here.  Not anymore. His other half, his only true companion on this Earth was gone, and Aziraphale isn’t planning on spending the rest of eternity here alone. No, his continued existence without Crowley seems to him like a punishment on par with Falling, as blasphemous as that comparison may be.  A memory of him finding Crowley in that bar 10 years ago after his unfortunate discorporation at the hands of Mr. Shadwell floats unbidden across his mind: a row of empty wine bottles, the uncharacteristically disheveled, hunched over figure, the broken, devastated look in the dull red-rimmed eyes – the look of a man with nothing left to lose.  

He understands it now, he thinks.  Because he, too, lost everything that mattered. And now he is going to lose himself, too.  But he will take that loss willingly.  Along with as many of Hell’s denizens as he can.

 He places the body onto the mattress with the same doting, breathless care; runs his fingers down the beloved face, pausing when he reaches his lips, letting his fingertips rest there a moment, trembling lightly against the chapped, ashen skin.

 “Goodbye, dear.”

 He stands then.  Takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as he unfurls his wings, feeling his power crackle in the air around him like lightning in the gathering storm.  

He spares a quick thought to Anathema and the others, all still asleep in the wee hours of the morning. He won’t be seeing them again, he realizes with a small twinge of regret, and he sends one final blessing their way – a parting gift on his and Crowley’s behalf for everything they’ve done.  Their lives will run smooth, their course untroubled.

 He extends his right hand, and a familiar sword flames into existence, the handle fitting perfectly into his waiting palm.  He wraps his fingers around it, his expression darkening into grim determination, and winks out, leaving a single white feather to float slowly down to the floor.

 ***

 He kills the first demon the moment he steps off the escalator.  It was some squatty foul-looking thing with a lumpy face and sharp blackened teeth, and it made the mistake of being nearby when Aziraphale in his Avenging Angel mode descended into Hell.  He is now a smoldering puddle of goo on spit and filth covered floor.

Aziraphale steps calmly over the demonic remains, spreads his wings out until they almost touch the grimy walls, his Grace flaring out in a wide, blinding circle around him, and walks on, the Flaming Sword held at the ready.

“What in Heaven izzz going on here?” an angry shout buzzes loud over the cacophony of shrieks and the sizzle of destruction that mark his forward progress, and Aziraphale turns toward it like a hound that’s zeroed in on its game.

 “Lord Beelzebub,” Aziraphale acknowledges, blue eyes flashing with cold, blazing fury as he thinks back to the messily scrawled signature at the bottom of Crowley’s mildew-mottled missive.  “How perfectly fortuitous! I’ve been looking for you.”

 He stalks toward them, noting with grim satisfaction the way the Prince of Hell recoils from his advance, scrambling awkwardly to get out of the way until a wall blocks their path.  They freeze there, squinting against the blinding light of Aziraphale’s Grace, and the angel can’t resist leaning in closer, lifting the Flaming Sword to press its edge against their scrawny pale neck with deadly, unequivocal intent.

 “Whatzzz wrong wizzzz you?” Beelzebub screeches, panic flashing clear in the washed out blue of the demon’s eyes.  “Are you mad?”

 “I assure you, Lord Beelzebub, I am in perfect control of my faculties.” The sword presses harder, a thin trickle of inky black ichor staining the blade where it bites slightly into the demon’s skin.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

 A snarl twists the normally impassive features, fear tainting the angrily spat out threat, “You will zzzuffer for thizzz, you fool! You won’t leave here alive!”

 Aziraphale’s answering smile is a cold, empty thing that has the Prince of Hell shrinking further into the wall, unsettled.  “I don’t intend to,” he responds simply, as the pale eyes before him widen in distress. “The one being I cared for in this world is gone, and I mean to follow him.  But I would be loath to leave this world…” He leans in further, the stench of smoking skin tickling his nose as the demon before him hisses in genuine alarm, struggling to maintain their crumbling composure in the face of certain destruction.  Adds in a low, dangerously calm whisper, “without first smiting those who took him from me.”

 “We didn’t take him!” Beelzebub screeches, all pretense of composure gone as Aziraphale swings the sword for the killing blow.

 “What?” The sword stops a mere inch away from the demon’s neck, the flames roaring in cheated hunger.

 “We were never suppozzzzed to,” the demon hurries on, voice strained with the urgency of panic.  “It wazzzz Gabriel’zzzzz idea – to punish you two zzzze same way you tried to trick uzzzz.”

 Aziraphale blinks, his mind stuttering numbly on the Prince’s words as a new kind of horror blooms in his chest.  “You mean, I would have been dragged down here, and Crowley…”

 “To Heaven, yezzz!” Beelzebub buzzes impatiently, trying to twist away from the flames that lick at their skin.

 Aziraphale’s hands tremble ever so lightly and he clenches them tighter around the handle of his sword. “I don’t believe you.”

 “I can prove it!” An expression of contented sadistic glee flashes briefly in the faded blues.  “Zzzey sent uzzz tapezzzz.”

________________________________

A/N: Ruh-roh

CHAPTER 03

It was obvious I wasn’t getting anywhere with the kid nor the creep, so I decided I’d try my luck with the woman at the root of it all; Ms. Fawcett herself. In only moments, I was knocking on her cottage door. I was soon greeted by the smiling face of what appeared to be a kindly old woman. But I knew better than to let my guard down for a second.

“Oh, hello, dear!” The old woman readjusted her spectacles and got a better look at me. If her frown was any indication, she wasn’t pleased with what she saw. “You’re not Little Red ...”

“How astute of you, ma’am. I’m known around these parts as the Big Bad Wolf, and I’ve got a few choice questions I’d like to--”

“Oh my, wolf? Wolf!”

I’m not sure which hurt worse in that moment: my feelings, or my snout when she slammed the door in my face. Alright, fine. It was quickly becoming clear to me that a direct approach wasn’t going to work here. On to plan B.

The B stands for boring, and boy was it. A good stakeout takes patience, vigilance, and dedication to the craft. I just so happen to possess all three in spades, but even I was beginning to nod off in the tree I’d perched myself in by the time I spotted movement along the adjacent treeline. 

It was Larry Lemonade! Just this fact alone was enough to jolt my senses-- as well as nearly caused me to topple from my roost. Grabbing onto the sturdy branch of the tree, I shielded my eyes with a free hand. 

All the better to see him with, you know.

Larry was the perfect vision of a sneaking snike-- mostly because that was what he was doing. He slithered out from behind the trees, tip-toeing through shrubbery as he made it to the door of Fawcett’s cottage. I watched, ever vigilant, as the depraved delinquent turned himself side to side-- no doubt on the lookout for my familiar face.  

Ha! For someone who took such pride in his intelligence, apparently looking UP was above him! 

After a few minutes the wolf seemed satisfied enough, straightening his crooked frame as he knocked on the door. It was only as an afterthought that Larry bent over to pluck a handful of posies from the window box, holding them as a makeshift bouquet.

It was the moment the old woman had opened the door to her home that I had realized my mistake: I was too far away to hear anything! Cursing that my brilliance had been my downfall, I strained my eyes to get a better view. I happen to be an amatuer lip reader, so it was at that moment my skill was put to the test.

Ah, Fawcett was surprised. Larry handed the flowers over, something about ‘for you, my dear’. My head was beginning to ache from the agony of my peepers peeping beyond their limits, but I could see that scoundrel kissing her hand, and Fawcett feigning a demure attitude. My frustration was building, and it was building fast. 

I didn’t need to see Larry getting himself a sugar granny, after all!

Thankfully some higher power was on my side, as the flirting came to an end. Either  Maybelle was suddenly offering an avocado, or she had just asked the wolf to come in.

“The plot thickens!” I cried out triumphantly, troubling my temporary twittering neighbors. But who cared about THEM, anyway. No birds were going to keep me from my case!

The robins apparently disagreed, as their sudden swooping caused me to tumble out of the tree. But no matter! The vines and underbrush I now found myself entangled in provided the perfect cover I needed. I’ve gotten so adept at camouflage, I don’t even need to try anymore.

I heard her long before I saw her. I'd know that chipper humming anywhere. And wouldn’t you know it, a moment later there she was, skipping into the clearing, her basket in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in her other. The final piece of the puzzle had arrived, and I waited, I watched, held in place just as much by my keen sense of intuition, as by the shrubbery.

Red shifted the flowers to her other hand, and she knocked on the door. The door opened, but it wasn’t the old woman standing there.

“Hiya, Granny! Hey wait,,,”

The girl was snatched up so quickly I barely saw it, her optimistic cry of “Whee!” cut off abruptly as she was pulled inside, the door slamming shut behind her. I was beginning to think maybe the girl was in danger, after all.

It wasn’t the time to think of suspects, it was time to save lives! The make it or break it moment where heroes were born!

Thus, quite naturally, my birth of valor was through breaking the cottage window.

Glass shattering was merely a cymbal in the sea of sounds coming from the home-- heavy thuds and muffled screams being the key notes. I might not have known the full story of what was going on, but I knew trouble when I heard it on the soundtrack of life! So, I used this opportunity to stretch my paw inside-- fiddling with the lock on the other side. The noise continued, and I was beginning to grow-- dare I say it-- worried.

With a small metallic click I was allowed entrance.  AHA! It was with a cry of success that I threw up the panel, and climbed inside-- only just missing having the window slam back down on my back. I clambered to my back paws, dusting my coat and gave a look about.

The place was an absolute wreck-- and I didn’t just mean from the taste of tacky furniture! Tables were flipped, picture frames were thrown to the floor. Chairs were… Actually, they were fine--BUT EVERYTHING ELSE! Oooh, this had the markings of a genuine struggle!

My deducing would have to wait, as it was the sound of the little girl screaming that sprung me into action.

“I gotcha Red!”

 I scurried to the foyer, followed by stumbling up the steps. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the top floor. Another cry! All that stood between me and saving the child was a simple door.

I charged with everything I had.

I collapsed, along with the wooden door. Boy, they sure don’t build houses like they used to anymore… Where were the Walrus and the Carpenter when you needed them?

Oh, right. Prison.

I shook my head, visions of singing oysters leaving me as I took in the room I had so desperately demanded entrance to. Blinking with heavy eyes, I was shocked by what I saw!

The room was absolutely deserted.

The open window told me everything I needed to know … granny and the girl had been nabbed. But where had Larry taken them, and for what purpose? I asked myself these very questions as I descended the stairs, my deep contemplative concentration broken by a loud clatter that could have only been the front door crashing open.

Even more guests? The last thing I needed. Or perhaps the very thing I needed … perhaps whoever it was had seen something, had some information vital to this new questionable quandary I suddenly found myself with. I continued my way down the stairs, and prepared to confront the guest.

Or the intruder.

What I didn’t expect, however, was to see a modern day Adonis. If you asked a barkeep for a tall glass of water, this guy would be the equivalent of getting the whole barrel. Seemingly kind eyes were tinged with worry, as the large lumbering man stumbled through the door. He picked it up afterwards, leaning it back into its frame in some sort of manner of bashful etiquette. Hand on his ax-- Woodsman, then-- he called into the destroyed home.

“Mrs. Fawcett? Ma’am? You home? I brought you this week’s supply!” Boots crushed a picture frame, the lad stopping in his tracks as he bent over to pluck it from under his heel. “Oh my, bingo must have been intense. Shame I missed it!”

This was said with enough cheer that it caused me to facepalm from my spot on the stairs. Oh no, the kid was a nimrod in every sense of the word! I continued to watch: while I was sure he wasn’t the brains of the operation, I wasn’t yet sure where the Woodsman fell on the morality scale. (For all I knew he was a goon of Larry’s!) After I witnessed a cleanup of the crime scene, the Woodsman stopped himself to frown at the rest of the mess.

I could practically hear the squeaks of unused wheels, as the lad was attempting to make a thought.

“I… am beginning to suspect this wasn’t from bingo.”

“Nooo, you THINK?”

My outburst came as a surprise to us both-- my only weakness being the fact I couldn’t stand the simpleminded. Unfortunately for me, I wouldn’t be standing for long: for the moment the Woodsman spotted my fury complexion… Well, let’s just say profiling caused the oaf to have an ax to grind with little old me. 

I have no shame in admitting I yelped, falling down the stairs as I dodged the swing of the blade.

“H-hey, pal, let’s be reasonable!”

Another swing of the ax told me that logic and reason may not have been this guy’s strong suit. The way said ax sliced through an overturned table, barely missing me as I scrambled out of the way, told me he may have been wearing his strong suit,

“Halt, foul beast!” This man had a voice like a tuba. “What have you done with poor Ms. Fawcett? I don’t see her anywhere!”

“I’ve been trying to tell you! If you’d just put the ax away, and give me a chance to explain myself...”

My wit is quicker than my legs, I’m afraid, and I failed to escape the hand the size of my head. I was snatched up off the ground like an unfortunate rabbit in the talons of a hungry hawk. The brute of a man looked me up and down as I dangled there. 

Not my most prideful moment.

“Hmmm. You didn’t eat her, did you?”

“EAT HER?!”

Now, let me tell you a thing or two about wolves: we get a bad rap. Sometimes it felt like wolves were getting the short end of the stick on everything.  Treating all the world's problems on wolves like me. You know what it’s like to get stink eyes everywhere you go? Can’t even fish for a bargain on salmon without people grabbing their kids and running for the hills!

So let’s just say I am a smiggen sensitive when it comes to the subject.

“I’ll show YOU ‘eat her’!” I growled, rage blinding me as I attempted to do the same to the bigot-- claws swiping at nothing. “I walked IN on this, you loony lout! Now put me DOWN before I-”

If the Woodsman considered my threat, even for a fraction of a second, it didn’t show. Head starting to feel like a cheap stress toy, the barbarian secured his grip as he began stomping towards the kitchen.

At this, I protested.

“Hey! Where are you taking me? You can’t do this! I’m a detective: I have RIGHTS!”

I was starting to think the sore throat I was getting from yelling was all for nothing-- especially as the guy ignored me. In some ways that was WORSE than being accused of sentience cannibalism. However, I quickly deduced what the plan was, as I saw the Woodsman reaching for the phone hanging on the wall. 

My suspicions were confirmed when I heard the seven words every detective loathed to hear:

“I’d like to speak to the police.”

Goodbye April & hello May!

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel & I’m running toward it…

April seemed to drag on despite the days flying by.  Does that even make sense?  Like I’ve mentioned before, my days are filled with homeschooling, home projects, mask making, and reading.  I’ve been doing my best to fill my hours to ease the COVID-19 anxiety.

I received the notification that I will be returning to work next week, which was welcome news.  I’m ready to get back a little bit of normalcy in my life.  Thankfully, our library system is reopening in phases.  Our first phase will be employees only (3-5 employees in the building at one time) and offering curb-side service to our patrons.  As of now, we will not open our doors to the public until June 1st at the earliest.  At that point in time, we will be limiting the number of patrons allowed in the building.  It is definitely going to be a learning curve to see what my new work normal is going to entail.  I’m looking forward to adapting & rising to the occasion.

» Be Not Far From Me by Mindy McGinnis

As per usual, Mindy McGinnis puts out another harrowing YA book.  I love survival stories, so I enjoyed this story about a girl that has gotten lost in the woods.  Be Not Far From Me was uncomfortable to read at certain points.

» Here in the Real World by Sara Pennypacker

*3.5 Stars*

This was a sweet story about two kids that form a friendship while hanging around an abandoned lot.  The first half of this book didn’t grab me and moved far too slowly.  I enjoyed the second half of this book a lot better than the first half.

» Keeper of Lost Cities (Keeper of the Lost Cities #1) by Shannon Messenger

An awesome MG fantasy!  I cannot wait to continue on with this series.  I’d recommend this to fans of Harry Potter.

» Separation Anxiety by Laura Zigman

*2.75 Stars*

I read this for one of my book clubs.   I think the author was attempting to write a book that would charm readers with eccentric characters & a humorous plotline, but don’t think it delivered.  Instead of being funny, the story felt odd & forced.

» A Wolf Called Wander by Rosanne Parry

I think the author did a tremendous job writing a book from a wolf’s perspective.  You can tell the author did extensive research into wolves & their behaviors.  While I think this animal perspective was very well done, I didn’t think the plotline was all that entertaining.

» The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Oz #1) by L. Frank Baum

I’ve decided to challenge myself to read more children’s classics in 2020.   To kick start this challenge, I started with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.  This was a delightful read!  I was surprised to learn that the slippers were actually silver instead of ruby red… mind blown!

» SHOUT by Laurie Halse Anderson

This is a must read for fans of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak.  While you don’t HAVE to read Speak to read SHOUT, I feel like it makes a bigger impact if you read Speak prior to this.  If you didn’t know, SHOUT is Anderson’s memoir told in verse.

» Loveboat, Taipei (Loveboat, Taipei #1) by Abigail Hing Wen

*4.5 Stars*

This is a guilty pleasure type of read.  Actually, it reminded me a bit of Crazy Rich Asians a bit.  It is a tad racy for a YA book… So I’d probably recommend for older YA readers that are 16+

» Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities #2) by Shannon Messenger

I am LOVING this MG fantasy series.  While these books are a bit chunky, don’t let the page count deter you.  I flew through the first two books in this series this month.  Also, I’m happy to report that this second installment does NOT suffer from “second book syndrome.”

» Nooks & Crannies by Jessica Lawson

Nooks & Crannies is an excellent MG historical mystery.  Some of the elements of this story gave me Matilda mixed with A Series of Unfortunate Events vibes.  The audiobook is well narrated.

» The Penderwicks (The Penderwicks #1) by Jeanne Birdsall

This is the perfect book to pick up during the summer months.  It really gave me modern Little Women crossed with The Secret Garden vibes.  The ending was so heartwarming it almost brought me to tears.

Goodreads Challenge Update: 46 books!

*I know it says 47, but I finished The Last (Endling #1) on May 1st*

March 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up

April 2020 TBR

Childhood Classics 2020: TBR

Most Anticipated Books of 2020 (May – December)

Mini Book Reviews: April 2020 – Part 1

Mini Book Reviews: April 2020 – Part 2

If you were ever curious what a bookworm’s quarantine stress shopping spree looks like, here you go…

» The Guinevere Deception (Camelot Rising #1) by Kiersten White

There was nothing in the world as magical and terrifying as a girl.

Princess Guinevere has come to Camelot to wed a stranger: the charismatic King Arthur. With magic clawing at the kingdom’s borders, the great wizard Merlin conjured a solution–send in Guinevere to be Arthur’s wife . . . and his protector from those who want to see the young king’s idyllic city fail. The catch? Guinevere’s real name–and her true identity–is a secret. She is a changeling, a girl who has given up everything to protect Camelot.

To keep Arthur safe, Guinevere must navigate a court in which the old–including Arthur’s own family–demand things continue as they have been, and the new–those drawn by the dream of Camelot–fight for a better way to live. And always, in the green hearts of forests and the black depths of lakes, magic lies in wait to reclaim the land. Arthur’s knights believe they are strong enough to face any threat, but Guinevere knows it will take more than swords to keep Camelot free.

Deadly jousts, duplicitous knights, and forbidden romances are nothing compared to the greatest threat of all: the girl with the long black hair, riding on horseback through the dark woods toward Arthur. Because when your whole existence is a lie, how can you trust even yourself?

» Song for a Whale by Lynne Kelly

The story of a deaf girl’s connection to a whale whose song can’t be heard by his species, and the journey she takes to help him.

From fixing the class computer to repairing old radios, twelve-year-old Iris is a tech genius. But she’s the only deaf person in her school, so people often treat her like she’s not very smart. If you’ve ever felt like no one was listening to you, then you know how hard that can be.

When she learns about Blue 55, a real whale who is unable to speak to other whales, Iris understands how he must feel. Then she has an idea: she should invent a way to “sing” to him! But he’s three thousand miles away. How will she play her song for him?

» Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father’s inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty–until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk–grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh–Miryem’s fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

Channeling the vibrant heart of myth and fairy tale, Spinning Silver weaves a multilayered, magical tapestry that readers will want to return to again and again.

» Girls Like Us by Randi Pink

Set in the summer of 1972, this moving YA historical novel is narrated by teen girls from different backgrounds with one thing in common: Each girl is dealing with pregnancy. Four teenage girls. Four different stories. What they all have in common is that they’re dealing with unplanned pregnancies.

In rural Georgia, Izella is wise beyond her years, but burdened with the responsibility of her older sister, Ola, who has found out she’s pregnant. Their young neighbor, Missippi, is also pregnant, but doesn’t fully understand the extent of her predicament. When her father sends her to Chicago to give birth, she meets the final narrator, Susan, who is white and the daughter of an anti-choice senator.

Randi Pink masterfully weaves four lives into a larger story – as timely as ever – about a woman’s right to choose her future.

» The Island of the Sea Women by Lisa See

Set on the Korean island of Jeju, The Island of Sea Women follows Mi-ja and Young-sook, two girls from very different backgrounds, as they begin working in the sea with their village’s all-female diving collective. Over many decades—through the Japanese colonialism of the 1930s and 1940s, World War II, the Korean War, and the era of cellphones and wet suits for the women divers—Mi-ja and Young-sook develop the closest of bonds. Nevertheless, their differences are impossible to ignore: Mi-ja is the daughter of a Japanese collaborator, forever marking her, and Young-sook was born into a long line of haenyeo and will inherit her mother’s position leading the divers. After hundreds of dives and years of friendship, forces outside their control will push their relationship to the breaking point.

This beautiful, thoughtful novel illuminates a unique and unforgettable culture, one where the women are in charge, engaging in dangerous physical work, and the men take care of the children. A classic Lisa See story—one of women’s friendships and the larger forces that shape them—The Island of Sea Women introduces readers to the fierce female divers of Jeju Island and the dramatic history that shaped their lives.

» The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf

A music-loving teen with OCD does everything she can to find her way back to her mother during the historic race riots in 1969 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in this heart-pounding literary debut.

Melati Ahmad looks like your typical moviegoing, Beatles-obsessed sixteen-year-old. Unlike most other sixteen-year-olds though, Mel also believes that she harbors a djinn inside her, one who threatens her with horrific images of her mother’s death unless she adheres to an elaborate ritual of counting and tapping to keep him satisfied.

But there are things that Melati can’t protect her mother from. On the evening of May 13th, 1969, racial tensions in her home city of Kuala Lumpur boil over. The Chinese and Malays are at war, and Mel and her mother become separated by a city in flames.

With a 24-hour curfew in place and all lines of communication down, it will take the help of a Chinese boy named Vincent and all of the courage and grit in Melati’s arsenal to overcome the violence on the streets, her own prejudices, and her djinn’s surging power to make it back to the one person she can’t risk losing.

» Escape from Aleppo by N.H. Senzai

Nadia’s family is forced to flee their home in Aleppo, Syria, when the Arab Spring sparks a civil war in this timely coming-of-age novel from award-winning author N.H. Senzai.

Silver and gold balloons. A birthday cake covered in pink roses. A new dress.

Nadia stands at the center of attention in her parents’ elegant dining room. This is the best day of my life, she thinks. Everyone is about to sing “Happy Birthday,” when her uncle calls from the living room, “Baba, brothers, you need to see this.” Reluctantly, she follows her family into the other room. On TV, a reporter stands near an overturned vegetable cart on a dusty street. Beside it is a mound of smoldering ashes. The reporter explains that a vegetable vendor in the city of Tunis burned himself alive, protesting corrupt government officials who have been harassing his business. Nadia frowns.

It is December 17, 2010: Nadia’s twelfth birthday and the beginning of the Arab Spring. Soon anti-government protests erupt across the Middle East and, one by one, countries are thrown into turmoil. As civil war flares in Syria and bombs fall across Nadia’s home city of Aleppo, her family decides to flee to safety. Inspired by current events, this novel sheds light on the complicated situation in Syria that has led to an international refugee crisis, and tells the story of one girl’s journey to safety.

» The Two Princesses of Bamarre (The Two Princesses of Bamarre #1) by Gail Carson Levine

Twelve-year-old Addie admires her older sister Meryl, who aspires to rid the kingdom of Bamarre of gryphons, specters, and ogres. Addie, on the other hand, is fearful even of spiders and depends on Meryl for courage and protection. Waving her sword Bloodbiter, the older girl declaims in the garden from the heroic epic of Drualt to a thrilled audience of Addie, their governess, and the young sorcerer Rhys.

But when Meryl falls ill with the dreaded Gray Death, Addie must gather her courage and set off alone on a quest to find the cure and save her beloved sister. Addie takes the seven-league boots and magic spyglass left to her by her mother and the enchanted tablecloth and cloak given to her by Rhys – along with a shy declaration of his love. She prevails in encounters with tricky specters (spiders too) and outwits a wickedly personable dragon in adventures touched with romance and a bittersweet ending.

» The Lost Kingdom of Bamarre (The Two Princesses of Bamarre 0.5) by Gail Carson Levine

In this compelling and thought-provoking fantasy set in the world of The Two Princesses of Bamarre, Newbery Honor-winning author Gail Carson Levine introduces a spirited heroine who must overcome deeply rooted prejudice—including her own—to heal her broken country.

Peregrine strives to be the Latki ideal—and to impress her parents: affectionate Lord Tove, who despises only the Bamarre, and stern Lady Klausine. Perry runs the fastest, speaks her mind, and doesn’t give much thought to the castle’s Bamarre servants, who she knows to be weak and cowardly. The Lakti always wage war, and the battlefield will give her the chance to show her valor.

But just as she’s about to join her father on the front lines, she is visited by the fairy Halina, who reveals that Perry isn’t Latki-born. She is a Bamarre. The fairy issues a daunting challenge: against the Lakti might, free her people from tyranny.

» A Crack in the Sea by H.M. Bouwman

An enchanting historical fantasy adventure perfect for fans of Thanhha Lai’s Newbery Honor-winning Inside Out and Back Again   No one comes to the Second World on purpose. The doorway between worlds opens only when least expected. The Raft King is desperate to change that by finding the doorway that will finally take him and the people of Raftworld back home. To do it, he needs Pip, a young boy with an incredible gift—he can speak to fish; and the Raft King is not above kidnapping to get what he wants. Pip’s sister Kinchen, though, is determined to rescue her brother and foil the Raft King’s plans.   This is but the first of three extraordinary stories that collide on the high seas of the Second World. The second story takes us back to the beginning: Venus and Swimmer are twins captured aboard a slave ship bound for Jamaica in 1781. They save themselves and others from a life of enslavement with a risky, magical plan—one that leads them from the shark-infested waters of the first world to the second. Pip and Kinchen will hear all about them before their own story is said and done. So will Thanh and his sister Sang, who we meet in 1976 on a small boat as they try to escape post-war Vietnam. But after a storm and a pirate attack, they’re not sure they’ll ever see shore again. What brings these three sets of siblings together on an adventure of a lifetime is a little magic, helpful sea monsters and that very special portal, A Crack in the Sea.

» The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

A bizarre chain of events begins when sixteen unlikely people gather for the reading of Samuel W. Westing’s will. And though no one knows why the eccentric, game-loving millionaire has chosen a virtual stranger—and a possible murderer—to inherit his vast fortune, one thing’s for sure: Sam Westing may be dead … but that won’t stop him from playing one last game!

» Ballet Shoes (Shoes #1) by Noel Streatfeild

Pauline, Petrova and Posy are orphans determined to help out their new family by joining the Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training. But when they vow to make a name for themselves, they have no idea it’s going to be such hard work! They launch themselves into the world of show business, complete with working papers, the glare of the spotlight, and practice, practice, practice! Pauline is destined for the movies. Posy is a born dancer. But practical Petrova finds she’d rather pilot a plane than perform a pirouette. Each girl must find the courage to follow her dream.

» Wishtree by Katherine Applegate

Trees can’t tell jokes, but they can certainly tell stories. . . .

Red is an oak tree who is many rings old. Red is the neighborhood “wishtree”—people write their wishes on pieces of cloth and tie them to Red’s branches. Along with her crow friend Bongo and other animals who seek refuge in Red’s hollows, this “wishtree” watches over the neighborhood.

You might say Red has seen it all. Until a new family moves in. Not everyone is welcoming, and Red’s experiences as a wishtree are more important than ever.

» The Library of Ever (The Library of Ever #1) by Zeno Alexander

With her parents off traveling the globe, Lenora is bored, bored, bored–until she discovers a secret doorway in the library and becomes its newly appointed Fourth Assistant Apprentice Librarian.

In her new job, Lenora finds herself helping future civilizations figure out the date, relocates lost penguins, uncovers the city with the longest name on Earth, and more in a quest to help patrons. But there are sinister forces at work that want to destroy all knowledge. To save the library, Lenora will have to test her limits and uncover secrets hidden among its shelves.

» Chains (Seeds of America #1) by Laurie Halse Anderson

As the Revolutionary War begins, thirteen-year-old Isabel wages her own fight…for freedom. Promised freedom upon the death of their owner, she and her sister, Ruth, in a cruel twist of fate become the property of a malicious New York City couple, the Locktons, who have no sympathy for the American Revolution and even less for Ruth and Isabel. When Isabel meets Curzon, a slave with ties to the Patriots, he encourages her to spy on her owners, who know details of British plans for invasion. She is reluctant at first, but when the unthinkable happens to Ruth, Isabel realizes her loyalty is available to the bidder who can provide her with freedom.

From acclaimed author Laurie Halse Anderson comes this compelling, impeccably researched novel that shows the lengths we can go to cast off our chains, both physical and spiritual.

» The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey.

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule–but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her–even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

The acclaimed author of The Witch’s Boy has created another epic coming-of-age fairy tale destined to become a modern classic. 

Which books did you read in April?

Have you read any of the books I read or hauled this month?  If so, what did you think?

Did you buy any books?  If so, which ones?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

April 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up + Book Haul #BookBlogger #Bookworm #Bibliophile #BookHaul #Reading #Books #WrapUp Goodbye April & hello May! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel & I'm running toward it...

title: varulven rating: teen and up word count: 5,717 summary: After being bitten by a werewolf, Trevor, knowing he doesn’t have much of a choice, accepts his fate following a painful transformation during the full moon. He quickly gets used to his new body with the support of Sypha and Alucard, who uses his own wolf form to better connect with Trevor. Part two of this piece.

read on ao3 at aquilaofarkham

--

The forest overwhelms him; too many new sounds, new scents, and new sensations all happening at once. The newly born lycan can hear everything from the smallest mouse digging into the frozen dirt, readying itself for hibernation, to the subtle crack of an owl’s talons clawing into tree bark as it moves from branch to branch. It watches and waits, ever so patient for that very same mouse. 

This assault on his senses continues. All things previously closed off when he was human have suddenly been opened. Through his eyes, the world is closer, more intimate. No moment to breathe. His thoughts are bursting with excitement and uncertainty, confusion and fervor.

He lifts his head and sees a white wolf upon a nearby hill. Sitting on his hind legs, head raised high and tall, staring back at the lycan. The skies are dark, save for the full moon, but thank god it’s not snowing else they’d never find each other. He knows the wolf will stay there all night if he has to, but the lycan won’t keep him waiting for much longer. This is a comforting sight; one that compels him to move forward. To join his friend, now that the two of them share more similarities than ever before (unconventional as they are).

Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans get along very well.

Trevor doesn’t know if he will make peace with this form. It’s too soon to tell. But joining Alucard on a run through the snow-covered woods seems to be a decent start. White fur and dark grey fur move quickly against a sea of pin straight black trees. Their swift paws kick up snow as one tries running just an inch faster and further than the other—whether either of them realizes it or not.

When Trevor arrived home a month ago with claw marks gracing his shoulder, Alucard and Sypha did their best. All of them did their best. The two consulted books, legends, and remedies while their hunter prepared himself for the worst. Trevor will forever be grateful to them, despite their failure to stop the lycan’s curse. After the pain of transformation ended, he suddenly felt nothing. He could see nothing, only blood red and an emptiness surrounding him. It was dark inside the wolf. A realization that his body was no longer his own. He had lost control over it.

The first thing Trevor heard was his name. Faint and very weak, not strong enough to pull him out of the darkness. Whatever force held dominion over his body, its immediate instinct was to bare its fangs and violently lash out.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” The second thing Trevor heard. Clear and recognizable, even in his state. Sypha’s firm, unwavering, yet calm voice, a voice he always hoped to hear again, was able to cut through the prison that trapped his human thoughts and sight. Another problem solved, another victory she could hang off her belt. Sypha needed one of those, yet she also knew it wasn’t time to celebrate. No premature smiles or breaths of relief.

Trevor vaguely remembers what happened next; low to the ground, he crawled towards the two human creatures in front of him. Uncertain of how much personal control he had regained. Nor was he sure of how easily it could slip away again. Then same another familiar voice, like a candle in a dark corridor leading him to someplace brighter. Trevor Belmont is always in want—or rather, in need of brighter things.

“Trevor...” Alucard was never one to reveal his true emotions especially in the way he spoke. Neutral, steady, and blunt. Most often rude if he were in a foul mood, yet he raised his voice sparingly. But if Alucard was attempting to hide a certain emotion in that single word, he failed. All Trevor could hear was a desperate plea for hope.

He put their fears to rest when the front of his head gently pressed into Alucard’s outstretched palm. Trevor didn’t move beyond that; too ashamed, too scared of this new form that dwarfed his friends. Alucard cautiously slid his hand up between the lycan’s eyes before scratching his ears. Something Trevor did to those old grey Belmont wolfhounds of his long gone home. A shockingly pleasant sensation, making him feel akin to one of said large, gentle beasts he misses so dearly. Large is obvious, but gentle? Trevor wants to try his best.

It was a good decision to leave the cellar with the now broken door. Trevor would have otherwise cowered in a corner come sunrise. Out here, deep in the snow and cold air, adrenaline rushes through his veins just as easily as blood. Mixed with his habitual tendency to compete against the dhampir, it’s enough to propel him forward, matching Alucard’s speed.

This forest is his. Theirs.

--

One should never underestimate Sypha Belnades. She’s sent demons back to hell in flames of her own creation. She stood against the vampires’ mad lord and burned him to ashes which flew off into the night sky, their final resting place unknown. She played reluctant peacemaker between two men, more like children despite their own abilities. A minimal accomplishment compared to others, but an accomplishment, nonetheless. All those moments when she held her bright fingertips close against their temples saying, “Grow up or I will light both of your skulls on fire”.

Keeping track of two wolf-like creatures seems easy compared to everything else. Stay close, stay watchful, and never stray too far from the fresh set of paw prints in the snow. A real-life Ariadne with her precious red thread. Sypha adored listening to those stories from her childhood, begging to hear one more before bedtime. It didn’t matter if they were real or not, though she always believed they were.

Belief is a powerful force; just as if not more powerful than her spells. She still believes in many things that cross bearing men reject; things good and bad. Of magic, vampires, and the myths that give life to both. Sypha loves her myths—even the unsettling ones. The ones that unearth truths that no one wants to hear. She once hoped some of them would help spare Trevor from his eventual fate.

She sat on the floor of their library, surrounded by piles of books like stone walls. A momen in time that feels long ago but in reality, happened only a few short days prior to the full moon. The words in front of her blurred together as she rubbed her aching eyes, yet she kept reading.

Sypha studied the lycan’s many origins: they came from a scorned lover of Gilgamesh, having been turned into a wolf against their will. No, they were punished by the god Jupiter for eating the remains of a sacrificed boy. Actually, they were merely by-products of the oldest vampires. On and on an on. She read of the symptoms: nightmares, vomiting, lack of an appetite. Increase in agitation. She wanted to scream, “I know that already” into the pages of those particular books. What she needed from these myths were cures.

While it made her hands twitch and her heart pound with anxiety, Sypha did what she promised Trevor: she kept searching. She kept reading.

So engrossed in her reading, Sypha barely noticed Alucard as he sat down beside her. A silence grew between them every time her fingers flipped over another page. He watched her eyes move from line to line, scaling down. A warm light filled the library; it would be dark soon and he wasn’t about to let her go through yet another sleepless night. Sypha’s sharp mind needed rest, but then again, they all did.

“You have that look again.” Despite how softly he spoke, Alucard noticed her jump. Sypha glanced at him briefly, then returned to her book, burying her nose in even deeper.

“What look?”

“The one that says focused yet angry. Calm, but disturb me and I will separate your head from your neck.”

She hid her amusement at Alucard’s dark brand of humour. “I am not angry.”

“Are you certain?”

“... perhaps a little. More frustrated. These books have nothing that can help us. There are apparently plenty of ways to tame a lycan after they transform.”

“But no methods of curing them.”

Sypha closed the book; Alucard took that as a yes. “What about you? I’ve seen you held up in that laboratory. Sometimes for hours on end.”

When they started rebuilding the Belmont manor with its library, bedrooms, armoury, and kitchen, they added a new room. A mirror image of the laboratory and clinic Alucard remembered so fondly. Full of medicines, glass tubes, and other devices neither Trevor nor Sypha fully understood but were willing to learn. He used it more often than them, carrying on important, irreplaceable work.

A local rumour began spreading amongst the neighbouring villages. Talk of a stranger dressed in black going from door to door, giving remedies to the sick while refusing payment. They never did manage to catch this good Samaritan.

Sypha once saw Alucard with his hair different. Still loose but tied with a simple hairband and hanging over his breast. When she mentioned it, innocently enough, Alucard went quiet. She hasn’t seen him like that since.

“Did... did your mother’s notes say anything?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t have very many patients afflicted with the lycan’s curse.” Usually Sypha could recognize the sarcasm in Alucard’s tone; this time proved more difficult. “But I had more success reading the notes she and my father wrote together. I’ve started concocting a tonic using distilled wolfsbane.”

“And...”

Alucard didn’t want to give Sypha false hope. “It still needs work. With its current state, it will most likely kill him.”

“Maybe...” Sypha stopped herself. Never in her life did she want to admit defeat. Always too stubborn, too proud, tasting bile in her mouth if she even thought about it. Yet she told Trevor and Alucard to grow up. Perhaps it was time she did as well, especially if the life of someone she loved was at stake.

“Maybe it would be best if we let Trevor transform. We can use your tonic to ease the pain when he changes and then try taming him afterwards. These books annoy me beyond anything else, but I found a manuscript about northern lycan myths.” Shoving aside everything else, she grabbed a flimsy set of brown papers held together by thread and sheer perseverance. “It stood out the most. I think it may assist us.”

Alucard stared at the so-called “book” in Sypha’s hand. Its ink scrawls were barely legible to his eyes. “We would have to tie him down. Or lock him somewhere secure.”

“We have that cellar. I know you don’t like this plan.”

“I don’t think either of us does.” Sypha nodded in agreement. “I will tell him.”

“You do not have to.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to help him.”

“He won’t like what you have to say. He’s barely gotten any rest.”

“No one living in this house has.” He placed his hand on her back. “Don’t worry, Sypha. I will talk to him.”

“Gently. Remember to be gentle with him.”

“I shall.”

“Before you do that, we need to finish that tonic. I will help.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should—”

Sypha pushed the manuscript against his chest. “I said I’m helping. And you should read this.”

Alucard smiled. “There’s not much I can say that would convince you otherwise, is there?”

“Nothing at all.”

Deep in her memories, Sypha nearly trips over herself. Alucard was right; she hated that plan. It worked, but she hated it for making her think the worst. For making her feel as though she had willingly doomed Trevor to his fate. That she had been defeated.

Her feet begin to ache. She keeps reminding herself of one thing: this is not defeat. Only another obstacle to overcome. A door opening to a new way of life. Sypha is used to walking through those. She scales up another hill, her two boys off in the distance, still in sight.

She should have worn better shoes.

--

Wolves cannot run forever. Even those of supernatural origins must stop, which is what Trevor and Alucard do. But one still has mountains of energy to burn. His head is a flurry of different thoughts. Some take root while most leave just as fast as they entered. No matter where they came from or what they entail, they all succeed in contradicting each other.

One thought manages to rise above the rest: what else can this new body really do?

Alucard takes his rest not far from Trevor, who seems to be in his own little world. Not content enough to run around in circles, he takes to rolling about in the snow, attacking it the same way a pup would pounce at everything in sight, animate or not. A pup... yes, that’s what Alucard is reminded of. He watches in amusement as Trevor trips over his legs, too long and cumbersome for his liking. No normal wolf would be able to handle such abnormal bodily proportions of a lycan’s.

It takes some trial and error—more error than trial. Only when Trevor actually stops to think does he regain some control over his limbs. No more flopping around; now he can revert straight back to his playful demeanour, this time on much steadier footing.

—Quite the beacon of terror, the dhampir thinks. Villagers must be quaking with fear underneath their bedcovers tonight.

Alucard lowers himself against the ground. Let Trevor have his fun. Lord knows he deserves it after a month of hell. This might even count as a valuable lesson. There’ll be plenty more to come.

Trevor rolls off his back and makes brief contact with golden eyes against white fur. Gold like amber or the cinders of a well-used fireplace. He looks at Alucard and wonders if the dhampir’s transformation is ever as painful as his own. No, Trevor realizes the longer he stares. Not painful or ugly at all. A few gentle, graceful wisps of smoke and the deed is done. Seems everything Alucard does is gentle and graceful, no matter what form he takes.

A mischievous thought worms its way into Trevor’s head. Alucard maintains his statuesque posture; beautiful, regal, and boring. At first, he ignores the other wolf, occasionally glancing in his direction out of curiosity and confusion. Packs of snow get thrown into the air with every wag of Trevor’s shaggy tail. Alucard’s head tilts slightly, his ears pinned back.

—What are you planning? Why are you staring at me like that?

What can barely be described as a tense standoff ends when Trevor shoves Alucard. Despite being larger and arguably stronger as a lycan, this action does nothing to faze his companion. Trevor repeats the gesture; still not enough to crack his hard exterior—but not enough to deter his scheming counterpart. Trevor charges headfirst into Alucard, more a ram than a wolf.

Alucard, if he so wanted, could overpower the lycan. Push him off or knock him flat on his own back. Yet he stays in a somewhat defeated pose with his limbs bent and dangling. Trevor continues his attempt at what Alucard can only assume is... bonding? He nuzzles his snout into the white wolf’s fur while his oversized front paws push against his exposed belly. Another jovial act between his family’s cherished wolfhounds.

Trevor also recalls riding on their backs as they took him up and down the halls of the Belmont manor then outside through the gardens when he was still small enough. Sypha might be able to ride on his back, maybe even Alucard as well. Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.

Trevor becomes lost in this new, break-neck pace of thinking, one thought after another and then another. He doesn’t notice that the playful bites he’s been giving his friend have unknowingly turned aggressive. Alucard retaliates by baring his fangs and letting out a deep, guttural snarl.

—Not so rough.

Trevor instinctively backs away. As an apology, he lowers his head and tries making his body seem much smaller than it really is. The same action he attempted in the cellar following his change. Lycans simply take up too much space. Too large, too obstructive, and too rough, even towards similar creatures. He huffs out a frustrated breath into the frigid air.

Alucard ceases his growling when he sees this abrupt shift. He didn’t mean for his reaction to be so harsh. He’s supposed to be helping after all. Days before the full moon when Trevor quietly wept out of fear—fear of himself—Alucard showed his own vulnerable side. He let Trevor rest his head upon his chest, wiping away the tears and offering small words of comfort until he drifted off into a desperately needed sleep. How could either of them forget that evening?

His father taught him that even those most experienced in transfiguration often have difficulty controlling their emotions. Too dulled down or too impassioned, exploding at any spontaneous moment. It would explain Trevor’s excitable behavior.

Softly, he treads over to the curled-up mass of thick fur. Trevor pouts as though he were still human. He really is just a newborn lycan on his first night out; an overgrown pup. His playfulness should be seen as a blessing in disguise. Alucard gives his snout a couple gentle pats, apologizing himself. To which Trevor merely grumbles.

—Stick in the ass you are.

Alucard has no way of telling if that’s what he’s really thinking, but he can come to his own conclusions. He knows the Belmont well enough. He responds with a frisky bite to his ear, eliciting a surprised yelp from Trevor. Rows upon rows of fangs snap at Alucard, who always dodges them at the very last second, before getting pinned down.

They continue like this, chasing and wrestling each other, causing their own little intimate chaos. Even their growls sound happier. It took some time, but they’re finally playing the same game. All is well again—or as well as things could be.

It comes to an end when a sound off in the distance catches Trevor’s attention. He raises his head; ears perked up, and listens. It’s not Sypha, no doubt making her way across the rolling landscape, closing in on her two boys. It’s no human at all. Something else, perhaps an animal or more, scurries through the frozen underbrush. A certain primal urge suddenly rises within Trevor, one that all beasts share: the need to chase and hunt. He stands up, nose pointed in the direction of the noise, ignoring the white wolf’s yips. Before he can run off, Alucard bites down and pulls him back.

—For once in your life, wait. 

Trevor does pause. but not without growling at him for leaving teeth marks on his tail. He begrudgingly lets Alucard take the lead. They begin their hunt.

--

Somewhere, a clock hand strikes past midnight. Trevor and Alucard huddle together, their eyes fixated on a small flock of wild pheasants. Not quite the prize they were hoping for, but decent practice. Like before, Trevor allows the white wolf to go first, all while trying to tell himself that as a human, he’s still the better hunter.

However, he must admit, it is mesmerizing to watch Alucard hunt as a wolf as it is watching him fight as a dhampir. Every step is deliberate and creates no sound as eyes never leave their prey, inching closer. A calculated, flawless leap forward, the panicked scattering of pheasants except for one thrashing around for freedom under his paw, and then finally, the wolf twists the bird’s neck in his jaws. He makes it all seem so easy.

Alucard carries the lifeless, slumped prize over to Trevor. So quick and barely even a drop of blood. He finds the rest of the flock a few feet away. They continue pecking at whatever berries and frozen grub they can scrounge for, unaware or having already forgotten that one of their own is dead. Trevor enjoys a challenge in all aspects of his life, but for now he’ll a dumb prey over a clever one. He start by mimicking Alucard’s movements and everything seems to be going well. Cumbersome due to his size but after some adjustments to his stance, the dhampir feels optimistic.

Then Trevor loses his chance to strike by half a second. The pheasants begin to disperse, and he rushes into them, striking one with his claws. It tries escaping; Trevor tries catching it. There’s a struggle as both hunter and prey put up their own fight. Jaws clamp down on the bird’s neck, but instead of a clean snap, splatters of blood and feathers cover the white ground. Trevor stares down at his prize, mangled and torn beyond recognition.

—Too rough. Again.

Alucard expected something like this would happen and, in the end, Trevor was successful in finishing his first hunt. So, he isn’t disappointed. Yet Trevor dully paws at what used to be a pheasant with dejection in his eyes. Alucard tries cheering him up by licking his bloody snout clean. It helps.

They come across a drove of jackrabbits with their guard down, a rare but lucky sight. The second hunt goes much smoother. Alucard catches two, Trevor four, all of which hang out of his mouth intact. If Sypha were here right now, she would have a good laugh at the sheer ridiculous sight of such a beast with his jaws stuffed to the brim with rabbits. 

Speak of the devil. Out of the corner of Alucard’s eye, he sees Sypha in the near distance, two pheasants hanging off her hip. He motions for Trevor to follow him.

Trevor doesn’t acknowledge him, nor does he notice Sypha. If a new sound or smell no matter how faraway demands his interest, then he must comply. All else, even close friends, fade away. He can’t help it in this form. He meanders over the hills, leaving Alucard and Sypha to do little but trail behind him. Something tells them that this is not just simple curiosity pulling the lycan.

Silently, Trevor leads them to a clearing in the trees. Out of the darkness, shapes and silhouettes come into view. Not particularly large, but substantial. Some far apart, some close together. Houses, few of which still have candles inside, burning the night away. The softened lights illuminate each frosted window like small drifting halos. It’s deathly still in this hamlet; they might have never discovered its existence had it not been for Trevor.

—Trevor. Alucard joins his side, fearing the worst. His head is lowered as he violently bats at it with his paws, agitated by some unseen tick. Every breath comes out as a growling rasp while streams of saliva drip off his fangs. The look in his eyes, the one Alucard and Sypha know so well, is gone.

It’s happening again. Even the idea of being so close to other humans is enough to reawaken the hunger. Not to hunt or feed, but to rip and mangle and leave nothing unscathed. Trevor loses his balance, stumbling from foot to foot, shaking his head. God knows he’s trying to gain back control, and it hurts him. Alucard barks in his ear, deafening him.

—Fight it. Trevor, or what Alucard hopes is still Trevor, responds with a fierce snap of his jaws. They snarl, and bark, and brandish their claws. Sypha tears her eyes away, despite not wanting to. She can hear voices within the houses, villagers stirring from their rest at what they believe is the sound of two wolves tearing at each other’s throats. She pleads for them to stay inside. This doesn’t concern them.

—Fight it. God damn it, I know you can. Fight it!

Trevor doesn’t care for Alucard’s thoughts. With another swipe, he sends him skidding across the ground and into the base of a tree. The pain is sharp but quick. Alucard stands, thankful that he is no ordinary wolf. Before he can charge at Trevor, Sypha moves between them, her hands raised.

“Trevor, stop!” She’s not afraid, not anymore. Or rather, she doesn’t look afraid. Her expression is firm, brows furrowed. All concentration on this one spell. It needs to be performed without any uncertainty. There’s no fire or ice emitting from her fingertips, yet Trevor howls bloody murder.

Spells that can change the mind and its contents are dangerous. In the hands of a less experienced practitioner, too much can go wrong. If one doesn’t succumb to an early death, then madness. Which is why Sypha has always preferred to manipulate tangible elements. But she’s never been above taking risks. She focuses every bit of her energy into restoring Trevor’s conscience. Hopefully it will shift itself in the right direction and neither she nor Alucard will be forced to commit the unthinkable.

“Look at me... keep your eyes on me. It will be alright, I promise.” Sypha doesn’t make promises lightly. Trevor huffs, gritting his fangs, but his gaze never leaves her. He waves his head from side to side again, as if trying to shake off a terrible headache. The growls quiet until they disappear. Sypha breathes a relieved yet trembling sigh when Trevor’s eyes soften. She steps forward and wraps her arms around his head, so large her fingers barely touch. Her forehead rests against his.

“Shh, none of that. You did well. I told you it would be alright.” She strokes his fur, listening to every whimper.

As his senses return, so too does his memory. Trevor wriggles free from Sypha’s grasp and runs to Alucard, still whining. While shaken up, his body bears no serious injuries, only some out of place fur. That doesn’t stop Trevor from licking and nuzzling him like an overbearing mother wolf. Alucard appreciates the concern, but he can stop now. After a moment of calm respite between the three of them, he decides that this night should come to an end. Before Sypha can follow him, the tip of her hood gets caught in Trevor’s teeth.

“What is it?” He lets go and lowers his underside against the snow, gesturing to his back. He knows Sypha came here by foot, all on her own; he can’t just let her return the same way. “Oh... well, this is...” Does he really want her to...?

Trevor gives her a nudge before she can stutter out another syllable. Alright, then. When in Rome and all that. Grabbing handfuls of fur, Sypha climbs aboard. She fumbles a bit then finds a comfortable position. Moments like these make Sypha thankful for their isolated, self-contained life. How would she explain this to her grandfather or the other Speakers? Even so, she can’t help but bury herself deeper in Trevor’s warm fur.

They catch up to Alucard with his mouth full of dead jackrabbits. Using the light of the moon as their guide, a lycan, a dhampir in the shape of a wolf, and a Speaker magician retrace their steps back to their home. Back to their bed.

--

The next day arrives, bringing with it the sun as it crawls over the Wallachian mountainside. Sypha stirs awake and forces her sleep heavy eyes open. The hazy light of early morning shines through the snow-covered glass of the bedroom window panes. Curling into the fetal position, she holds her knees tight against her chest. Both hands massage her bare feet, alleviating some of their soreness after her midnight excursion.

Is it possible for a single night to feel stretched out to its limits? Lingering for longer than a few hours at the most? Sypha remembers the set of events that occured last night, despite them feeling like a dream. All of them tumbling into place one after another without rest. The last memory is of her in bed, safe, warm, and guarded. A bit suffocated but sleeping better than she did for the entire month. She knows who to thank for that.

Sitting up (a feat much easier said than done), Sypha believes she’ll look down at two wolves who are fast asleep. Just as she did before closing her eyes in the darkness, their bodies cuddled around her. One has white fur and a sleek build; the second, a lycan with thick fur and a mass that might have broken the bed in half.

She sees the white wolf, but in place of the other is a large blanket spreading out. As though the lycan had been neatly skinned and stripped of all its fur. The most curious thing about it is the human-esque shape protruding from underneath. Sypha lifts up one of the corners and with wide, bright eyes, she smiles. None of the books mentioned anything about this.

Trevor lies on his side covered by the fur blanket (or what must have been his skin), naked and in the grips of a deep, comfortable sleep. His breathing is gentle and every so often, a soft snore escapes. Sypha thinks she’s staring at an entirely different man. The tired, dark circles under his eyes are gone and his skin looks softer, healthier. Those years of turmoil and loneliness since he was twelve, all faded away after one night.

Tenderly, she runs a few fingers through his tousled hair. He will be fine. The fear she had when his fangs sharpened, and his eyes grew vicious was only momentary. Sypha wants to be hopeful, her most cherished emotion right after belief. She wants to hope and believe that Trevor might find the strength within himself to live with this curse. She also wants to bend down and hold him for the rest of the morning, no fear that he will disappear the next day or even in the next hour. But Sypha won’t wake him just yet. She slips out of bed, hurrying across the cold floor, a blanket wrapped around her shivering body, until she reaches the manor kitchen.

The lasting effects of a night well slept soon dissipate as Sypha abruptly stops, staring with surprised eyes at Trevor and Alucard’s midnight spoils. Namely, a pile of dead pheasants and hares complete with bloody feathers strewn along the wooden table where they have their meals together. They were all so exhausted, she almost forgot about those.

Sypha walks past the pile and begins preparing her breakfast.

--

Alucard is next to wake up. He opens his mouth in a wide yawn, licking dry lips, before giving his back a good stretch. After a few smooth wisps of mist rising into the air, he returns to his normal form. Fully clothed, wearing everything from his high boots, tight black pants, and the white shirt with the plunging neckline. He remains splayed across the bedsheets, straightening out the rest of his limbs. Letting out a tired yet satisfied moan, Alucard props himself up on his elbow and turns to Trevor. His reaction is just as pleasantly shocked as Sypha’s. Reaching over, he nudges him awake.

“Good morning,” he coos. Once Trevor’s eyes open and he gains an awareness of where he is, his cheeks go slightly pink.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Did you feel anything transfiguring back?”

“No, nothing at all. If only the first transformation went this way.”

“So, you remember everything we did. Hunting, running...”

“I do... more than I remember most things when I’m human. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like to run that fast. Then there was... when I almost—”

“Nothing happened. It wasn’t your fault, and no one was hurt. Remember that as well.” Aside from a brief lapse in contentment, Alucard is relieved at how well Trevor is taking everything. He stares at him for a bit longer. His blue eyes, normally so tired and worn, look so much brighter in the winter sunlight. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Actually, I feel better than good. I felt so heavy before. Everywhere I went, even when I met you and Sypha, I was constantly carrying around all this extra weight. You could never see it, but it was there, beating down on my shoulders while I rotted from the inside out. I don’t know, it sounds like I’m being too dramatic. But now... I feel lighter. Newer, I guess. It’s as though I’ve just taken the longest fucking bath of my life.”

“Interesting way to describe it.”

“But, be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“How hideous did I look? When I was... you know, in that form?”

Alucard doesn’t answer right away, preferring to keep Trevor in mild suspense. “It was not that terrible of a sight. You might actually look better as a lycan than a human.”

Trevor feebly tosses a pillow at his face. “Shut up.” Then comes an exasperated groan as he shoves his face into what used to be his “skin”. “Christ, that was a long night.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to go through it again?”

A valid question, and an important one. Trevor thinks about it at length. He can’t decide whether he wants his answer to be optimistic or his usual of reluctant acceptance. “I guess we’ll have to see in about a month’s time. Not like I have much of a choice.”

Alucard reaches over and grazes a couple fingertips along his stubbled chin. “You should know that I’m proud of you. We both are.”

“... don’t think I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth before.”

“Which one?”

“Proud. Of me in particular.”

“I’ve been proud of you many times in the past. I simply never vocalized it.”

“Well, my life’s purpose as been fulfilled. Guess I can die a happy man now.”

Grabbing the very same pillow, Alucard brings it down upon Trevor’s head again and again. “That was a horrible joke.” But the hunter, turn lycan, then turned back into a man only laughs.

Real laughter; it’s been too long since Alucard heard that sound.

Bound By the Soul (Michael Langdon x Reader) REQUEST

A/N: This is a long one shot. I hope you enjoy.

Requested By: @michaellangyum “Reader and michael are soulmates and they can feel each others pain.”

Warnings: smut and language

Word Count: 3133

*****************************

Do you ever feel like there is a person out there for you? Neither do I. After having a shitty boyfriend in high school and another shitty boyfriend in college, there’s not the right person for me.

 “There’s other fish in the sea.”

 “There’s more candy in the candy store.” All the stupid little sayings, I would hear them all.

 “You just haven’t found the right guy yet.” That was always a favorite. There are 7 billion people on this planet. How the hell am I supposed to find the person that was meant for me? My family always believed that there was someone out there for me, for everyone.

 Some people would say I wasn’t looking hard enough, why bother looking? I have better things to do than to look for a dependent waste of space.

 They say if you want to get to the top, you have to start at the bottom. That’s how I unfortunately ended up with Coco. Yes, she had Mallory and Gallant but apparently, she needed yet another slave. When I moved to L.A I wanted to be in Social Networking and Business Management. What I got, posting on Coco’s Instagram, because she can’t do it herself. At least I was able to relieve some stress of Mallory. My time working for Coco, I grew close to Mallory. Considering I had no friends when I moved here.

 I was posting a photo of Coco on her “influencer phone”, while she could scroll on her personal phone. Mallory came rushing in with some puke green health smoothie. Encouraging her to drink the super juice, Coco spits in Mallory’s face. Coco is such a bitch. I hand Mallory a towel as she wipes her face.

 All of our phones go off at once. It was a bomb warning.

 “Its fine their fake.” Gallant, Mallory and I all look to each other with concerned looks.

 It wasn’t fake. Now we are all on Coco’s private jet, Mallory sees that we are on auto pilot. It’s fine, everything is fine. We see the mushroom cloud explode through the air.

  That is how we are here. The Outpost. An underground facility, safe and protected from the radiation and monsters. Purples and Greys, we were divided into two categories. Greys were servants and Purples were the elite. Poor Mallory was stuck being a grey. I would’ve wanted to be a grey with her, but here I am, a purple. Life at the Outpost was so damn boring.

 At least as a grey, you cleaned, ‘cooked’ and didn’t have to be involved in boring gossip. Day in and day out. Our days consisted of cube meals, gossip, whining and the same fucking music every single day.

 Stu and Gallant had “radiation” and were taken to get hosed. Stu didn’t make it. That night Venable, the bitchy prude who ran this place, served us ‘stew’ with fresh meat. Andre lost his shit when he found a finger in his stew. Half of us didn’t eat it or stopped eating, a few others ate it in all it’s glory. Like Evie, Gallant’s crazy starlight grandmother.

 We were all in the sitting room, a melancholy sense in the air. Andre was sobbing in the corner with his mom, the rest of us stared aimlessly in the room with hooded eyes.

 “Guys, do you hear that?” Emily stood up with wide eyes, we all look to her like she’s crazy.

 “I don’t hear anything.” I said cocking my head to the side.

 “Exactly! The music stopped.” We all looked around, the room silent. Gallant leaps out of his seat, the record player scratches as “The Morning After” plays. He runs to the record player gesturing to it ecstatically.

 “This is the Cooperative! They are trying to send us a message!” Gallant proceeds to cover, terribly the song as it plays.

 Suicide was a thought as “The morning after” has played for the billionth time in the last 18 months. We were zombies at this point. Ms. Venable announced that today was the last breakfast we would be having in order to sustain our rations. We were all in a uproar before Gallant and Mallory spoke of taking their chances out in the world. Gallant throws his food and plate causing it to shatter everywhere.

 Before discipline could ensue, there was a perimeter breech. Lights flashes and sirens wailed. Ms. Venable’s face paled for a moment as her and Ms. Meade excuse themselves from the table.

“What the fuck is going on?” Andre was pacing all over the sitting room, Emily and Timothy were holding each other’s hands. We’ve been here for almost two years and there has never been a perimeter breech.

 Come dinner time there was another one of Venable’s infamous stews, snake stew. Courtesy of Emily, who found snakes in her bedroom. I would’ve been adventurous if it wasn’t for the snakes coming alive and scaring the shit out of us.

 “Who’s in your office?” Emily said, absent of snake related shell shock. Ms. Venable makes an irritated expression before sighing.

 “I’m afraid that’s none of your business.” She excuses herself from the table. We all look to each other, dumbfounded by all the changes.

 In the sitting room, we all remain silent. An eerie chill creeps up my neck, goosebumps pepper my arms. Odd, I’ve never felt that before. Ms. Venable makes her way out in front of us. The fire rages behind her. She stomps her cane, once, twice. Gathering the attention of us all. Before she could speak, a man walks in. He has no regard for personal space as he is inches from her face, he turns his head as if to say, ‘get the fuck out of my way’.

 I felt a cold chill. I rub my arms subtly, no one else seems uncomfortable, other than the demeaning presence of this man.

 His hair cascades down, illuminated by the light of the fire. He is clad in modern-Victorian wear. Nothing like we have to wear.

 “My name is Langdon, and I represent the cooperative.” His voice floats into my ears like honey. After that, all I hear is ringing, as he speaks I see his mouth move, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.  My mind is fuzzy.

 My mind is clear when I hear Gallant. Volunteering like it’s the Hunger Games.

 “I’ll go first.” Gallant shrugs. Langdon rolls his head, unenthused towards Gallant.

 “And so you shall.” He looks at me for a long time before moving. I felt frozen, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t read his expression. He lets out a sigh before making his way back to Venable’s (his) office.

 As if coming out of a trance, I can breathe again.

 “What the hell was that?” Mallory bends down to whisper in my ear.

 “I honestly don’t know.”

 I wait for my interview with a large amount of anxiety. I’m alone in the sitting room as everyone makes their way to their interviews. Once done, most retire to their rooms for the night. I glance up to the staircase seeing Mallory running out of Langdon’s office. I scrunch my brows as she hurries to her room. Following a hunch, I follow her.

 I knock once on her door, no response. I hear her sobbing so I enter without asking. She is curled up in a corner crying.

 “Mallory? Are you ok?” Kneeling down to her, I place a hand on her shoulder. She sniffles before lifting her face, revealing puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

 “No, there is something wrong with Langdon. He was pushing me, saying I had darkness inside me. There’s something clawing inside of me, trying to get out.”

 “What do you mean there’s something wrong with him?” I shift myself to sit next to her against the wall.

 “He, he scared me. His face was white, black veins all over. It was terrifying.” My eyes go wide, not questioning her. Mallory has always been level headed. She wouldn’t lie about something like that.

 Some time passes, we are sitting and talking about everything. Since we’ve been here, we haven’t been able to talk like we used to. I sense that its getting late so I stand to retire to my room.

 “I better get going. I wouldn’t want Venable to get mad at us.” We laugh a bit as I walk through her room to the door, when an awful pain stops me in my tracks. I let out a scream holding my arms out. I feel a fiery pain dragging up both of my arms, a sharp sting resonates.

 “Y/n, what’s wrong?” Mallory holds her hands out to me, lost not knowing what to do.

 “I don’t know Mallory, my arms, they hurt! It feels like they’re on fire.” I begin to cry from the pain. Looking at my arms I see no marks or cuts. I don’t know what is causing this pain. I scream as I sink to the ground, collapsing to the ground. I hear Mallory scream my name when everything goes black.

 I wake up in a bed that is not my own. My mind is fuzzy, the sting in my arms long gone. I look around the room. No clue as to where I am. Slowly, I get out of the bed. Making my way to the door I hear someone descending the spiral stair case. Langdon.

 “You’re awake.” I look to him, still as stone as he makes his way to me.

 “What, why am I here? What’s going on?” My voice comes out shaky. He grins at me, standing tall in front of me.

 “Let’s sit, I know you have a lot of questions.” His eyes penetrate deep into my soul. I think back to what Mallory said about him. I shift closer to the door as my hand creeps to the handle. His eyes glance to my hand before looking back up at me.

 “I wouldn’t do that Y/n. Sit.” Langdon turns to some seats by the fireplace. I fight myself on leaving and sitting with him. Curiosity gets the better of me as I follow slowly behind him. He is seated before I am, eyes watching my every move.

 He stares at me for quite some time before saying anything, causing me to squirm under his gaze. His fingers grace his chin in a thinking manor. I take note of the rings on his fingers.

 “You felt pain earlier, didn’t you?” I look to him with wide eyes.

 “Yes, I did.” Speaking softly, I don’t know if he heard me.

 “Where?” Odd. I take a moment, trying to process what is going on.

 “Um, both my inner arms, all the way up.” I rub my arms self-consciously. He hums in response before getting up and going to his desk. I watch his every move. He gets into a drawer, grabbing a knife. I feel a knot in my throat. My heart accelerates.

 “I want you to trust me. Can you do that?” I slowly nod, scared of what is to happen next. Langdon sets the knife in his chair before untying the cravat on his neck.

 “Trust me.” He uses the cravat to blindfold me. My heart thumps so loud I can hear it in my ears. I hear him sit back down into the chair. Some time goes by when I feel a sharp pain in my palm. I let out a yelp, thinking he just cut my hand. That can’t be possible, I don’t feel his hands on me.

 I rip the blindfold off, looking at my hand, nothing. I look at him seeing the knife in one hand and a large gash in the other. I can’t comprehend what is going on. The blood dries as the cut heals.

 “I understand this is very confusing to you, but I had to be sure it really was you.” I look to him with utter confusion.

 “Do you believe in soulmates?” He gets up to kneel in front of me. It makes me question everything.

 “My family does, but I don’t.” I speak, unsure of myself at this point. He takes my hands in his.

 “Are you sure?” I don’t know. “Soulmates can feel the pain of their mate. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself.” He cleans the blade and hands it to me. I don’t want to cut myself. However, I am curious. I take the blade and he grabs the blindfold, seating himself back in the chair. I try to find a spot that would be unexpected. I gently cut myself under my collarbone. He instantly brings a hand to his collar bone. The blood drips down my breasts and he takes his blindfold off.

 “I knew it. Interesting location by the way.” Langdon makes his way to me, leaning into me. He lowers his head near my breasts, licking the blood from my cleavage and licking my cut. I want to be grossed out, but I’m not. The cut heals and he remains by my face.

 “We are meant for each other. Made for each other. You feel my pain and I feel yours. We can feel each other’s emotions. I know you have felt my emotions. I have felt yours, the sadness and depression from being here. I’m sorry. I should’ve found you sooner and for that I am truly sorry.” He takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over them.

 “I, I don’t know what to make of all this.” I take in a deep breath. He nuzzles his nose into my neck, causing me to close my eyes.

 “I know my dear, it’s a lot to take in. I’m here now and I won’t let you go.” He looks deep into my eyes placing his forehead on mine. There is a sense of comfort. Part of me wants to leave, to run away, but I’ve never felt this calm and content before.

 “I sense your confusion. I know you don’t understand, but tryst me darling.” He brings me down with him on the floor. We sit by the fire, content in each other’s embrace.

 “I never wanted to be with someone. All my life, people have told me that there is someone for each of us. I didn’t want to believe them. I hated the idea, the men that have hurt me? I never wanted to find someone again.” I look down as some tears begin to fall. He holds my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

 “I would kill for you, those men that hurt you? They don’t deserve you. You are a gem. I am here now, that’s all that matters. I will keep the pain away. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” He brings my head to his chest, holding me tight. I feel like I could be here forever.

 I don’t realize that I had fallen asleep. I awaken after sometime. I look up to Langdon. I lay in his lap.  He looks down to me smiling. His arms wrapped around me.

 “I didn’t want to wake you love.” His tone is so loving, I almost don’t believe it.

 “I’m sorry to have fallen asleep Mr. Langdon.” I try to remove myself from him, but he holds me tighter.

 “Michael, my name is Michael, I would love it if you called me that.” He strokes my hair, I hum in response.

“Michael, Michael Langdon. It’s a beautiful name.”

 We migrate to the bed, he carries me in his arms and gently sets me on his soft duvet. He lays me down, taking a spot next to me. He strokes my arm, then my side. I smile longingly at him.

 “I want to make you feel good Y/n, give you the love and pleasure you deserve.” He lifts my dress up as he runs his fingers up my leg, bringing the skirt with them. “I don’t want to push you, but I want to love you. Will you let me love you, make love to you?” He looks into my eyes, not moving any further.

 “I, I think I would like that.” His pupils are blown as he grips my neck gently in his hands, bringing me closer to him. He kisses me slow. There is want and need in the kiss. I can feel his want, I can feel the adoration he has for me. I kiss back, showing him that I want this too.

 His hands roam my body. Feeling heat everywhere they go. He climbs on top of me grabbing my thigh and lifting it to his hip. He kisses all along my neck leaving marks, he moans as the feeling of bites litter his own neck. I run my hands up to his hair tugging at his locks, I feel the tension on myself as well.

 He slips a hand under my dress pulling my panties down. He slips to fingers into my warm cunt. I gasp, its surreal. Michael pumps his fingers into him, hitting my g-spot with every thrust. He kisses me hard.

 My slick coats his fingers. He brings them to his lips licking them clean. He undoes his pants, springing free his hard cock. He looks to me, holding back the need and desire, I can feel it. I bring my hand to his cheek, he leans into it.

 “Its ok Michael, I want you.” His shoves his lips onto mine in a bruising kiss. He then thrusts into me. A white pleasure. I can’t breathe. No one had made me feel like this before. I bring my hips up to his, in rhythm of his thrusts. I arch my back, throwing my head into the pillow. My hands go to his back, clawing red streaks along his muscles. I feel it too. He thrusts into me, long and hard.

 “I’m close Michael.” I gasp out trying to ground myself by gripping onto him. His cock presses into my womb with every thrust. I feel my release coming. I cums inside me as my orgasm is enhanced. I feel his and he feels mine. Its an amazing amount of pleasure. We both moan loudly. He rests gently on me while still inside. His face in my neck. He takes deep breaths. My hand goes to the back of his neck, stroking his hair.

 He slowly pulls from me, both of us shuttering from the aftershock. He lays down next to me pulling my body to his. Michael wraps his arms around me, locking me in an embrace.

 “I love you Y/n, I won’t let you hurt anymore.” His kisses my hair and holds me tighter.

 “I love you too Michael.” I do believe in soulmates.

****************************

Hope you enjoyed!

Langdon MASTERLIST

Taglist

@delicatefishtreedream @skullchik89 @wth-trippy @teenagevampirebouquet@glamorous-without-the-guilt @first-son-of-finwe @aerite @no-salvation-no-forgiveness @albeeox @shado-cat   @bryandechartisasmolbean @beautifulagatha @majestichoechlin @homeschool-prom-queen @the-captain-kidd @creepy-jazzy @spidey-starky @envyskitty @depressed-comics @bookwormstrawberry @scarletraine @quione3 @artisticlales @superwarsofthrones @hxdesworld @thebatshitcrazyfangirl @sexxxychiq @michael-langdon-is-daddy @justanotherdaydreamersoul @honeybun5801 @lost-in-the-stories @multi-madison  @agb-random @michaellangyum @xscarlett-rosex @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e @lustlangdon @fuckthatfeeling @frozenhuntress67

All is fair in Love & War - 4

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader Content: angsting, imprisonment, sexual undertones, killing, suffering, sneaking about, doubt, reluctant epiphany, more angst...the usual. A/N: This is a semi-AU in the sense that it is in a sort of medieval/fairy-tale setting, but Loki and MCU’s version of Nordic mythology still applies. If you want a tag, just let me know! I’ll be more than happy to hear anything on this as the continuation depends on popularity/feedback.

4. Gilded cage

You are not restrained for long, thankfully. Loki appears briefly to release you but does not utter a single word. Later a servant arrives with clean clothes (all dresses of fine fabrics and lavishly embellished) who helps you dress. She too leaves without giving you any information on what will happen. Another equally silent servant arrives with more wood for the fire.

Hours pass with nothing to do but walk about in the room, stare out of the window, and tend to the fire. By the time food is brought to you, it seems as though you have been starved for days. Perhaps time passes differently? Maybe the windows are enchanted to show me the wrong time of day? Either way, your stomach is growling at the sight of the steaming meal which is carefully served upon the little table by the fire together with a fine glass and a carafe of wine. You should at least hesitate to consider the option of poison in this meal despite the safety of the last, but it seems a waste of effort for the god to go through all this trouble only to kill you in such a manner (not to remind yourself that he has not seemed averse to violence). And so, you sit for the first time in one of the wide chairs, almost getting swallowed by the cushions and furs until you manage to rearrange them.

Grilled fish, vegetables, some type of mash. All of it smells of herbs and spices, most of which you cannot identify despite the mouth-watering effect it has. The cutlery is finely wrought of silvery metal. Perhaps the knife can serve as a weapon. It looks spindly, but it is better than nothing. For now, however, it will continue to be used as intended by the maker. A satisfied hum escapes you at the first bite.

“Glad you like it.” You almost choke at the sound of Loki. “No need for that, I’ve brought you something.”

That’s easy for him to say! There is plenty of reason to fear the madman and whatever he may have brought, so it is with a wary mind you watch him walk over to take the remaining seat. In his hands is a stack of books, all of them considerably thinner and with lettering on the spines that somehow is…simpler. Clearer. Gaudy colours grace some of the volumes.

“Please…you can continue your meal,” he urges, a smirk dancing on his lips, “I will show you these in the meantime.”

Not daring to enrage him again, you do as you are told trying hard to enjoy the taste of the food like with the first bite though your appetite has gone. Putting the stack aside, the god grabs the first book and holds it up for you to see. Only three letters are at the front and he points to them, as if explaining to a child, and announces that they spell out “A B C” which (according to him, at least) are the first three letters of the alphabet. Inside the book, each page is devoted to just one letter, and pretty images of things beginning with that letter (again you have to trust Loki on this) are depicted in pastels.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

It slips out of you before you can think better of it. Flipping through the pages, he reaches the page where the first letter in your name should be rendered and judging by the images, it may be correct.

…   LOKI’s POV   …

Putting the cutlery aside, the young woman, [Y/N], reaches out for the book with eyes round with wonder. Of course, he lets her hold it and watches as she traces the letter with a slender finger. He can almost recall the same wondrous feeling from his own discovery of the treasures words can hold. The power.

“What are the others? Your highness.”

She still feels compelled to show I am not her king in any way she can, Loki muses, but does not comment on it. Taking the children’s book back, he leaves through it until he has spelled out her name. In this moment, there is no fear. The air between them sings with victorious curiosity, sending warm ripples of her scent each time she reaches for the book to study it closer.

Then he takes another from the stack and opens it for her to see the pages with him. The smile on his own lips cannot be supressed when she scrunches her nose and wrinkle her brows in an effort to find any semblance in the few lines of text on each paper. This will be much easier than I thought.

“Your food is getting cold, little mortal.” And then he begins to read for her while she finishes the dinner.

…   READER’s POV   …

One day takes the other and a pattern starts to show. The morning includes a lavish breakfast with exotic fruits followed by a warm bath. Unfortunately, you are no longer taken to the bath hall by the kitchens, rather a smaller (though still full sized) tub is brought to your chambers each time and both filled and emptied by a flock of servants, people who do not say a single word to you…in fact some even scowl although you try to be kind to them, reminding yourself it is not their fault they have been born to serve someone like Loki.

It is odd, though. Looking at these people and their master, one would not think they hail from the same kingdom because these beings have subtle signs of the horrors you have heard ascribed to the god: nails reminiscent of claws; teeth too sharpened for comfort; lumpy scars and tattoos littering what skin there is to see. Their skin…each has an undertone of grey or blue reminding you of frost-touched mountains. It makes your own skin look as if it is burning in comparison.

Having people attend to you is disconcerting, making you heave a sigh of relief when the last one has left, locking the door behind them. If you are to be alone, then you would rather be so without anyone around you. And so, you while they day away in solitude, silently happy for the books that give you something to do with your mind – learning to read is not a skill most people possess and if you ever make it home again, then you know your fortune will be made thanks to this.

Home. More than once, you catch yourself staring out the windows (on a good day even pushing the glass pane aside to let the fresh air and shafts of sunlight in). Somewhere out there, maybe behind the forest at the horizon, is your homeland suffering under a decade-long war with the very same person whose prisoner you are. Because that is what you are. No luxury can change that you are locked in this room, held at Loki’s mercy until he bores of you…but so far, he has not. Each evening he arrives when your dinner has been brought and sits to read for or with you.

Tonight is no exception, and though the book he is reading from is too complicated for you to master your skill with you are hanging at his every word. He is telling a vaguely familiar story of the creation of the kingdoms. He calls them “realms”, but there is no doubt he means the same. Once there was peace (everyone knows that), but things changed as kings and gods broke treaties and grew greedy. The worst wars were between Asgard and Jotunheim, and the peace was new like the first leaves after the winter when the king of Midgard sought to grasp his opportunity, delving into a strife that still rages.

“No, that’s not right!” you exclaim with indignation. “Your highness, you cannot make me believe we- my country, my king would attack unprovoked?”

“Unprovoked?” A chuckle escapes Loki. “Resources and greed has been the motivation for worse deeds throughout history.” Reaching to the floor, he grabs a roll parchment and spreads it on his knees.

(Author’s note: decided to keep it overly simple because I’m no cartographer)

During your time in the army, you have seen enough maps to recognize what you are looking at although most of those hadn’t been anywhere near as detailed or for that matter featuring the entire world! All the maps you saw had to depict where to go to find the enemy. Blue and red lines zig-zag through the pastels of green and any variety of earthy hues you can think of, sometimes punctured by larger blotches of the first colours. Black dotted lines lead to the red blotches and you find lettering there.

Testingly, you begin to spell your way through a word that looks oddly familiar. “S-sjo…ö…sjöb-leek…lik. Sjöb-lik…OH! Sjöblik!” The capital of Midgard is penned out carefully on the map.

“Well done.” One of those unreadable glints plays with the green of his eyes, but it is gone and he is pointing at the mark. “That is where your kings sits, safe and sound while his loyal subjects fight and die for him.” He points to a red line between Midgard and the area to the east. “This border had been unrivaled for centuries. After the war, truce came about due to the death of the former king of Jotunheim, Laufey, and many thought this realm defenseless. Leaderless. They were wrong, as it turned out.” Loki chuckles coldly.

Again, indignation and rage bubbles within, making you slam the glass of wine you would been holding on the table with a clang. “How dare you?!” He does not answer, does not even look at you. “Look at me! You call yourself ruler. You mock my king for hiding behind safe walls, yet don’t you do the same this very moment? Why should I believe a word you say to discre–“

He is upon you faster than should be humanly possible, one grabbing your hair to force your face upwards while the other is raised as if to strike you. Instinctively, your jaw clenches, but the hit never lands.

“By Odin’s –“ He pauses to look you over and blow a wayward strand of black out of his face – “Why did I think it was a good idea to take you in? You do not want to learn the truth, stubborn mortal.”

“Learning’s not the same as accepting everything without question!”

A sharp tug of your hair tilts your head painfully, but it is the hurt in his eyes that silences you. “You think I would simply lie to you?”

“I know some of the names you go under. Silver tongue. Lie smith.” Your eyes are beginning to prickle, still you do not look away.

“And yet it is lies you seek to hold on to.” Seemingly lost in thought, he clicks his tongue a couple of times. “I suppose there is only one thing to do, then.”

Loki’s got you on your feet and drags you along. Thankfully he is favouring a grip on your upper arm rather than pulling you by the hair like some savage. At first the path is familiar: down the corridor and the stairs until reaching ground level, then the path differs and soon you have lost your way. It doesn’t matter, he won’t leave me ought of sight.

The two of you come to a halt to allow him a chance to open a smaller door that leads you into what must be some sort of storage mainly housing clothes and fabrics and...my gear! It is all there. Boots, leather armour, breeches, all of it. You grab it eagerly, happy to hold something that feels familiar. Safe.

“Change.” The god smirks at you from where he is leaning against the closed door. “And be quick about it.”

There is nowhere to hide from his gaze. Resigning, you tug at all the silly ribbons to loosen the dress which soon pools on the floor, allowing you to continue. All the time, you feel the bile of panic burning in the back of your throat. Even at the encampments on the way to and at the front, your fellow comrades had had the dignity to allow the women to sort their affairs in private, yet this so-called god shows no such manners. He is no king. Never will be. Finally dressed like the night you fell into his trap, you look for the few weapons you had.

“Do not be foolish. I would not trust you with my life.”

The words sends chills down you spine. Yet I have to trust you. There is no reason to voice the thought, because he must know what any sane person would think when at his mercy.

Silently, he leads you through the courtyard to the stables where he orders the stable boys to prepare his horse. The saddle is surprisingly simple, you manage to notice when an enormous steed is brought out moments later. Black like his hair, the beast blends in well with the night despite the torches and braziers. Standing before you, it bows its head to smell the shaking hand you present to it. Please, be kinder than your master, the prayer loops in your mind, and it is rewarded by the soft nudge of a muzzle begging for strokes and scratches between the ears although you have to stretch to reach.

All too soon, the calm moment ends. Loki lifts you onto the back of the horse before following swiftly and settling behind you. No matter what you do, you cannot avoid being pressed against his chest, caged by his arms and legs as he nudges the animal forward in what soon turns into a dashing gallop through the impenetrable darkness. Gripping the leather of the saddle tight, you try to focus on the movements of the horse rather than those of the man even as he sometimes slips an arm around you waist to pull you tighter. He’s simply making sure I don’t try to escape, the logical side of you reasons…even when his nose is buried in the hair by your neck.

“Now listen carefully, pretty mortal,” the cold  breath speaks in your ear, “I am taking you to the front, but I cannot have you betray our presence once there, so I will cast a spell to silence you, and I will be carrying you tied up to prevent you from doing anything…foolish.”

Naturally, there is a lot you want to say to him about that. Appease him. Yes, if you play his game then you might be lucky that he lets his guard down long enough for you to get away because surely, he cannot carry you all the time. Probably. Strong muscles are pressing against your back, butt and thighs, and somehow you do not fully believe that normal stamina has anything to do with any of…him. Also, there is his magic to consider.

“I know you are weighing you chances.” Once more a cold hand finds your midriff before blatantly sweeping over your chest (thank the gods for the barrier of the leather armour) until finally coming to rest on your throat. “I cannot recommend it, although it would a delightful change of things to truly hunt you down.”

Now that you believe.

The horse comes to a halt in, judging by the smell and sounds, a forest. How the creature and the god can have navigated the place without running headfirst into a tree or something is far beyond logic. You want to ask, but the hand on your throat burns hot and cold, stealing your breath away as your windpipe spasms uncomfortably. It is not painful, simply…wrong.

“ – !” None of the curses leave your mouth.

Feeling the air stick in your lungs, your tear Loki’s hand away, your nails digging into the skin before he manages to restrain you.

“Shush, breathe. Just breathe.” Somehow, he manages to soothe your frayed nerves. Shallow gasps turn into deep inhalations that in turn combat the tension in your shoulders, neck and chest. “Much better. I will restore your voice once this endeavour is over. Now, we have to walk from here.”

You feel him sliding away, and although you do not hear it, he must have landed on the ground too because a moment later his hands are on your waist and he pulls you down to stand next to him, both of your wrists in one of his large hands. Familiar golden-green-glowing dust emanates from his fingers and lights up the narrow space between you as it coils around your wrist where it turns into metal, cold and hard against the skin, but by then the light disappears. Blind once more, there is no warning before Loki hoists you onto his back and wraps you legs around his hips where he keeps them pinned as he begins to move effortlessly through the night.

The jostling motion continues for a long time, or so it feels, and you almost cannot believe it when you finally see a flicker of fire between the black silhouettes of tree-trunks and bushes. As Loki reaches the edge of the camp, it is evident that this is no little outpost.

The colours of the Midgardian army can be seen everywhere despite a thick layer of dirt and the worn condition of the fabrics, both a telling symbol of the state the forces are in. Most are asleep, exhausted and hungry as they are it is impossible to truly get any rest (you remember this all too vividly), and the few that should be on guard are fighting the urge to mimic their comrades. They’re not fulfilling their tasks! The enemy is walking through the camp, silent as a cat he moves from shadow to shadow and not a soul stirs as he passes, allowing him unchallenged access to enter the biggest tent in the camp.

In there, things look different. You have never been inside any other tent than your own (which was more of a shelter than an actual tent) and you are stunned at what you see in the soft light from the embers in the firepit. An actual cot is covered, improved with furs and a few cushions so that the man sleeping there suffers none of the hardships his men does. Of course, you expected the captain to have more favourable conditions, they were all thanes or chieftains and as such their status would merit certain comforts. But to see this leader snoring comfortably next to a low table with the unfinished scraps of his meal made you shake with anger. Chicken, vegetables, barley-mash, even fruit and wine! More than he could eat and drink, which contradicts everything you have been told on the “consequences everyone suffers from Loki’s invasions”.  Apparently, some suffer less than others.

“Look.” The god’s whisper makes you reposition your head to his other shoulder so you can get a clear view at the item he is pointing at.

On the table (a real, proper, wooden table) are documents in gnarly handwriting, but it is a crudely drawn map that has caught your captor’s attention. The borders are familiar thanks to the landmarks and the letters inserted in the rivers’ flow. The arrows signaling troop movements and planned battlefields, however, tell a different story than the one you were told by your superiors. According to the orders you had listened to, had memorized, the Midgardians were fighting to take back their own lands which had been stolen by the instigator Loki who, according to your king and commanders wanted nothing more than to wipe your homeland off the face of the earth. That is not what the map shows. Each arrow crosses from Midgard to Jotunheim.

“See that river?” Loki points to a set of somewhat parallel likes snaking across the parchment. “This used to be the border. You can even see the old line has been blurred, here.” Tapping his finger to indicate where for your sake. “We would need to walk west for two days before reaching where Midgard ought to begin.”

Having no words, you are left to nod mutely. Whether he cares remains a mystery to you because he has become engrossed in the letters, studying the (for you) impossible handwriting before stuffing them inside the leather armour together with the map. When did he change? Only now do you realize that the refined shirt has been gone for a long time, replaced with an outfit similar to the one he had worn the night you found him. It doesn’t matter. Why should you care what he wears? Truth is you do not, of course. The whispered sound of metal calls you out of the nonsensical babbling of your mind to see Loki leaning over the bed, a long knife gleaming in his hand for half an eternity before it is plunged into the unsuspecting Midgardian. Bloodshot eyes flutter open, locking briefly with his killer’s. Then they see nothing but the emptiness of the afterlife.

You have seen people die before, both naturally and by the hands of someone else. Witnessing the murder of this gluttony commander, it is the fact that you do not feel sorry for him that shocks you to your core. Lost in a debate on whether or not you are losing your soul, you pay little attention to Loki’s actions as he makes his way through the camp by seeking out the armouries, the enclosures for the beasts of burden. Bit by bit, he sabotages all he can, before eventually returning to the cover of the forest and the darkness there.

“This is what I do.” He still whispers although the enemy, the Midgardian camp, is safely behind. “Each night after we have read, I head out to gather information and delay the next wave of attacks to prevent meaningless bloodshed on both sides. You must understand this too.”

The rest of the journey back to Loki’s keep is passed in silence even though he restores you ability to speak once you reach his horse which has been waiting exactly where he left it.

…

The next evening, the god only visits briefly in your fancy prison to inform that he will be away.

It is a promise he keeps which at first feels wonderfully freeing but soon brings a new emptiness to the stale routine where the only other company grows increasingly hostile and negligent. Meals become simpler (still filling, at least), and the bath is replaced by a single bucket of cold water and a cloth in much the same way that the clothes suddenly are simpler too. You are not lacking anything, as such, but it is clear to you that only Loki has been the reason for the lavish attention you have received before and most likely it is their fear of him, or warped loyalty, that is keeping you alive.

Then comes the day where no one sees to you. Then one more…and one more. You keep the thirst at bay by drinking sparingly from the bucket of dirty bath water, prizing yourself fortunate that you had not poured it down the loo after use when no one had come to collect it as usual. The temperature, however, is a different matter: during the day, the room is cool, but at night the place does little to insulate against the dropping temperatures that penetrate the walls and the glass of the narrow windows. Some mornings, you wake to frost on the furs and pillow, and ice on the water in the bucket. No one comes. You grow lethargic from the hunger that no longer bites and tears at your insides but simply…is. At least sleeping can take your mind away from it.

Thirst

Title: Thirst Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Destiel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,175 Art By: @foxymoley Tags: DeanCasFlipFest2018, Vampire Castiel, Angel Dean Winchester,Bars and Pubs, Biting, Wing Kink, Blood Drinking, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Possessive Castiel, Possessive Behavior, Bruises, Marking, Consensual Sex, Heat

Summary: There's a bar hidden between the blurry lines of time and space and perception, and to those in the know, it's called Limbo. It's one of those places... a sliver cut between worlds, where dimensions and realities overlap. Where supernatural beings of all walks of life–or, in Castiel’s case, death–come to let their glamour fade and exist in their skin without prejudice. Whether that skin has horns, or claws, or fangs, in Limbo no one bothers to look twice. He's been here for years, a staple behind the bar, mixing drinks, crafting a steady, even, uneventful life for himself. Everything on a schedule, everything predictable. It's how he keeps himself sane. It's how he keeps others safe. But that was over three weeks ago. Three weeks since everything went to hell and his carefully constructed life fractured down the middle. Three weeks, and now the only constant in his life is the Thirst.

Read on A03 Chapter One under the cut

Three weeks, two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-three minutes.

.

.

.

The clock on his nightstand blinks, the numbers ever climbing. Three weeks, two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-four minutes since Cas last fed. His stomach twists, a hollow ache expanding in his gut. There is no rest for the wicked. Even as his resolve wears thin and his energy plummets, he pushes on. The next shipment should arrive soon. It has to.

Three weeks, four days, twelve hours, and forty-seven minutes since Cas last fed.

  “New guy starts today,” Benny calls over the low thrum of the club’s music, dragging Cas from his spiraling, red-tinted thoughts. The steady, rhythmic beat from tonight's DJ is some kind of goth-electro shit that Cas will never understand, no matter how many centuries he lives.

  He sniffs, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the stiffness, and lifts a crate of clean pint glasses, setting them out under the bar for the next rush. Limbo is one of those places, a space between worlds, where time and dimensions and realities overlap. Where supernatural beings of all walks of life or, in Castiel’s case, death come to let their glamour fade and, for a while, exist in their skin without prejudice. Whether that skin has horns, or claws, or fangs, in Limbo no one bothers to look twice.

Which is unfortunate for Castiel and his hypersensitive sense of smell, because where there are supernatural creatures, there are supernatural scents. On a good day, it’s an annoyance, something to tolerate as part of his job, but tonight it makes his head hurt. Pressure builds inside his sinuses and expands into a headache that throbs behind his eyes.

“Yah hear me, Cas?” Benny’s voice booms.

“Of course I hear you,” Cas grumbles under his breath, as if Benny doesn’t share his enhanced hearing. As if Benny doesn't know perfectly well that Cas can pick out the twin heartbeats of the strzyga across the club, let alone a shouted conversation a few feet away. Tossing aside the empty crate, Cas starts on the back bars inventory.

“Yeah? I guess it is weird when a boss expects his employee to answer his questions.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas looks up from his task. “You didn’t ask a question, Benny, you made a statement. I don’t understand why I need to care if another new being has been conned into working for this establishment.” Cas forces a harsh breath out of his nose, flighting a sneeze.

A skinwalker smoking a long blue and green cigarette strolls past. The fragrant purple smoke coils like a serpent in the already thickly scented air. If looks could kill, the one Cas gives the offending creature would render it dead. “We should ban smoking in the club,” he mutters.

“Listen, brother,” Benny says, clapping him on the shoulder and drawing Cas’ death glare away from the skinwalker. “I need you to care because you’re the one who’s going to be training him.”

“What? Benny, no!” Cas releases the bottle he’s holding and turns to face his boss. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I trained the last two hires. Make Meg or Garth do it.”

“Sorry man, you’re the most senior employee I’ve got, and because of that you’ve got perks.” Benny’s smile grows as Cas’ scowl deepens. “One of those perks is training the new guys.”

“Shouldn’t one of my perks be telling everyone else what they have to do?” Cas counters and Benny chuckles, shrugging one thick shoulder.

“Look, Cas,” he says slowly, leaning in like he has some dark secret to share. “I know you’re in a bit of a bind, with what’s been going on and all, but I need you.”

Benny is a good guy… at least for a vampire. He has honest eyes and he’s one of the closest things Cas has to a friend. And since Benny’s a vampire himself, he has the decency not to talk about the hiccup in Cas’ feeding schedule. No reason to agitate a festering wound.

“And, ‘cause you take your orders from me, and I take my orders from Gabe,” Benny continues, lifting a shoulder in an ‘I wish I could help you but my hands are tied’ kind of way. “Gabe wants you on the new guy. So that’s where you’re gonna be.” With a final pat on Cas’ shoulder, Benny abandons him.

“But, why me?!” Cas calls. When there is no reply, he stomps back to his abandoned inventory sheet. Every time he drops one of the bottles back into its spot, each subtle clink of glass on glass helps soothe his irritation. Eventually, his agitation fades, and he’s just growling a stream of half-hearted complaints under his breath.

“What was that, Clarence?” Meg’s husky voice drifts over the bar as she sets her tray down. As if his night couldn’t get any worse, now there’s Meg. Her smile spreads, and just as Cas is about to tell her to go straight back to whatever pit of hell she crawled out of, she says, “Almost six hundred and twenty years old and still... what was that last part?” She laughs, leaning farther over the counter, the pale rise of her full breasts dangerously close to spilling over the edge of her low cut top.

The crisp green edge of a bill pokes out from the left side of her shirt. As Cas watches, Meg’s long elegant fingers press into the soft flesh of her chest and slip in alongside her breast to retrieve the bill. Slowly she draws it out over the curve and up her collarbone to flutter next to the bend in her neck, pushing the slightly acrid scent of her vessel’s blood towards him.

Shifting on his feet, Cas feels the tell-tale tingle in his gums as his canine teeth lengthen. He doesn't commonly have a taste for demon blood, not since the last time he caved to his desire. Even animal blood is better than the taste demon blood leaves in his mouth. His eyes flick up from the soft curve of Meg’s throat and the throb of her pulse. A vicious smile curves her full lips, and Cas knows he let her taunt him too far. Hunger pricks like a needle at the back his brain.

“Been a while huh, tiger?” She mocks, leaning closer so Cas can hear the low whoosh of blood pumping through her veins.

Her bright hazel eyes lock on his, and Cas can tell by the blurring at the edges of his vision that his normally ice blue gaze is steadily turning a violent purple. Meg loves to push him, taunt him, tease him with the meal hidden under her skin. Only once had Meg pushed him so far, he snapped and let the feeding frenzy consume him. She had bites and bruises from the encounter for weeks. Not that she complained, boasted about their wild night if anything. Cas ended up regretting his decision even before the rumors started. He is a private person, not just because he’s a vampire, he’s just used to a more solitary life.

Cas pulls his lips back, baring his fangs in warning.

Meg purrs, her eyes flashing black.

“Don’t tease me, Clarence,” She flirts, before leaning away. She tosses her order pad onto the mahogany bar. “I need two Holy Waters, a Dead Man’s Blood, an Angels Tears, and a vodka tonic.”

Moving on autopilot, Cas makes the drinks as she rattles them off. “Does Gabe always put you on when I need to feed, or am I just that unfortunate?” He asks.  

“Just lucky, I guess.” She shrugs, adding the twenty to her wad of cash before slipping the whole bundle back into her apron pocket. “When’s your next feeding scheduled?”

“It’s supposed to be tomorrow,” Cas responds automatically, setting the drinks on her tray. “Who the fuck orders a vodka tonic?”

Her shoulder lifts as she shrugs, sliding an elegant red-tipped nail around the rim of the glass in question. “You know, you could solve all your problems if you just fed like a normal vamp,” she says, popping the p, careful not to meet his eyes as she lifts her tray.

Cas stiffens. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.” She clicks her tongue. “There are blood bars all over the city, where, for the right price, you can drink directly from the source.” She picks up her notepad and slips it into her apron. “You know those humans are paid really well for letting you parasites feed off them.”

“Meg…” Cas growls again “You are well aware that I am not permitted…”

“I know Clarence.” She winks. “You know, I’m always here if you change your mind.” Adjusting her serving tray, she saunters back into the depths of the club.

Cas watches her go and for a brief moment, he second guesses his decision to turn down her offer of a fresh feeding. Running his tongue over his teeth he finds his gums ache. The glands under his tongue are swollen, sore with need, and still, the scent headache pounds like a drum behind his eyes.

Cas shakes his head. Demon vessel blood always leaves the taste of sulfur in his mouth. Then again, there’s really nothing like a warm body writhing under him as he feeds. He misses hunting. It brings Cas back to his youth when he’d first turned; stalking and seducing his prey.

He blinks, shocked at where his mind had gone. He should not be reminiscing fondly about those days.

Cas tosses the shaker into the well sink, snarling.

“Amateurs, am I right?” The voice draws Cas from his dark thoughts. “The Fairy’s Folly would have been a way better choice than a vodka tonic.”

Cas looks up, scowling at the smiling young man who has taken Meg's place across the bar. He’s handsome, startlingly so. He seems to glow with a health and vitality rarely seen among the patrons of Limbo.

Roughly shaken from his thoughts as he is by the man’s sudden and startling appearance, Cas can’t help but stare. For the first time all night the air smells clean. Like before the plagues, like before he died and was turned. He smells fresh like the flower fields and rolling hills of a home lost to Castiel so many years ago. Memories surge like a tidal wave from the depths of Cas’ mind where they’d been locked away.

Taking stock of the man, eyes flicking over his broad straight-toothed smile, sharp jaw, and full pouty lips, green eyes that shimmer like the first dewy buds of spring. This man, who at least in Castiel’s opinion is far too beautiful to be real––in fact, likely an Incubi––rubs him the wrong way. Cas can’t shake the instant dislike that curls in his gut. This man is Castiel’s exact opposite; it oozes tantalizingly from his sun-kissed and freckled skin. Cas’ lip lifts slightly, flashing one pointed canine tooth but much to his distaste, the man’s green eyes darken as they drop to Cas’ mouth, and he licks his lips.

“D’Ansphiel.” Benny’s voice snaps them out of the staring contest they were having. Cas is quick to jump back into action, orders are coming in, and he doesn’t have the energy to be distracted by Mr. Spring Rain here.

“You must be Benny?” Spring Rain asks, his voice as deep as the ocean. Cas’ gums tingle, his ears burn and he tries to ignore the effect that voice has on him. He needs to feed, and this D’Ansphiel with his bright, clean scent and sun-kissed skin is not helping. "Please, call me Dean.”

“Dean. We're sure glad you could make it on such short notice.” Benny says, and Cas turns away from the pair. He doesn't want to train some brat, and he certainly doesn't have time to stand here and listen to Benny give this D’Ansphiel–‘Call me Dean’–the tour. The pair wanders off into the club, D’Ansphiel taking the clean, fresh air with him as he leaves.

Read the rest on A03 Link to the art