#DMITRI: - “Look at me‚ look closely: right here‚ do you see‚ right here a horrible dishonor is being prepared.”

[vorakh]

disco elysium written in the brothers karamazov style and the brothers karamazov written in disco elysium style

[keingleichgewicht]

WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............  readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!) 

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3��s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and: 

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

[izloveshorses]

Waiting

Canonverse, 1.5k, ��missing scene” format. Sometime during Learn to Do It or any time before they leave Petersburg. This came to me fully written as soon as I woke up so... here u go I guess

“Dmitry, let’s get out of here,” Anya muttered, grabbing his wrist. They’d crossed paths at the market after her shift and he told her to stay close until it was time to go home, since the sun was setting and this place was dangerous after dark. 

He glanced down, completely baffled, as they wove through the crowded street. “What’s wrong?”

“See that man over there?” she nodded towards one of the slimy vendors selling antiques. “He’s not a good man.”

“There are plenty of indecent men here.” But he fell into step beside her anyway. “How do you know him?”

She hesitated, wondering how much she wanted to reveal. That encounter definitely wasn’t a memory she wanted to relive. “He stole something from me once. When I first arrived in Leningrad.”

He didn’t speak again until they’d left the square. “What did he take?”

“A silver pendant. The nurses at the hospital gave it to me before I left.”

“Hmm.” He adjusted the satchel on his shoulder. “Did he do anything else to you?”

She swallowed. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

He was silent the entire rest of the way back. But after months of living in close quarters, she could tell by the way his jaw clenched or his fists tightened around his strap that he was stewing in anger. It was a silly thing to be angry about, really. No point in wanting to change what’d already happened. Though she didn’t offer up any other conversation either. 

They spent the evening reviewing the family tree again and their various titles, she and Dmitry bickered until Vlad got annoyed enough to put a stop to it, and Anya went to bed early. The next day went on as usual— she worked until her palms and feet blistered, collected her wages, met Vlad in the palace, cleaned, and otherwise kept herself busy. But Dmitry was later than he normally was. 

The first hour she didn’t think about it. Yes, it was unusual for Dmitry to be untimely, but there were some viable reasons he was held up somewhere. 

She told Vlad as much in the second hour, who was starting to verbalize his concern. They shared a sorry dinner of canned beans and mushrooms, and Anya suggested starting her lessons on etiquette without him, and he welcomed the distraction. 

The third hour was when she started worrying. Curfew had passed and if he hadn’t found a place to hide for the night, he was truly in danger, and several hypotheticals ran across Anya’s mind. What if he was arrested? Kidnapped? Mugged? Drunk at a bar? Dead? 

“Would he run away without us?” She asked Vlad. He was teaching her a card game by the dim light of a lantern on the table. 

He chuckled. “I know you two don’t get along, but he’s loyal.” He placed a face card down and Anya sighed. Gambling could’ve been in her past but it definitely wasn’t something in her future. “Even if he were to run, it wouldn’t be a smart move at this point. Which, if anything, he’s smart.”

Hour four was the worst part. Those hypotheticals turned into very real possibilities, and the thought of what would happen if he actually didn’t come back made her stomach swirl. It wasn’t like she enjoyed him, necessarily, but she never wished for anything horrible to happen to him. Selfishly she wondered if she’d be stuck here in this palace if he never came back. Or if all of what she’d been working for was wasted. But those worries weren’t everlasting, so when she was still pacing the living area she realized there was more there than she thought. Maybe it was that, admittedly, he didn’t deserve to be snuffed out like so many others she’d seen over the years. Or maybe she didn’t actually hate him as much as she wanted to, or as much as she tried to. That thought was the most frustrating of all.

“Vlad?” she asked, voice small in the massive space.

“Yes, dear?” He’d picked up a book to read in the low light, but he was clearly unable to focus, constantly shifting himself in his seat, worried for his friend. 

“Do you think I was too mean to him?”

He barked a laugh, the noise making her jump after hours of solemn quiet. “Our boy needs to be put in his place every once in a while, don’t worry.” his laughter quieted but he continued when he noticed she was still looking at him expectantly. “Even so, no. That’s not something you need to be thinking about now.”

The guilt simmered down in her stomach, but the answer still didn’t ease her worry. She fiddled with the fire from her spot on the floor for the millionth time and tossed the last log onto the coals. She knew it was probably premature or unhealthy to think like this, but she couldn’t focus on her own book, so she just hugged her knees and stared at the embers. And waited.

Finally, there was a squeak of the front door and a rush of wind. She and Vlad leapt to their feet in a rush. Vlad saw him first and gave an exuberant holler. “It’s good to see you, my boy!”

When caught sight of him she suddenly felt embarrassed for worrying. Dmitry trudged through the doorway, a little worse for wear, a hand on his lower abdomen, but here and alive. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure what to expect, and now that he was here she wasn’t quite sure what to do, either. So she got angry. Naturally. “Where have you been?!”

“I got held up,” he grunted. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you all right?” Vlad asked, taking his coat.

“Just bruised, nothing serious.”

“It’s past curfew!” Anya was too upset to be compassionate. “I was— Vlad was so worried! You could’ve been arrested or dead in an alley and we’d never know! What were you thinking!” 

“Relax, I’m here now.”

“Don’t tell me to relax!” They’d moved into the kitchen now where he was stepping out of his sopping boots. Vlad’s smile was nearly giddy with relief but she still held her ground. “What could’ve possibly held you up that long?”

He only grinned, tired but proud, and dug into his pocket. “This.”

Her brow furrowed and she stepped closer to look. In his palm was a silver pendant with the imperial seal stamped to the front and an Eiffel Tower on the back, an odd combination of clues. The exact pendant she’d mentioned yesterday. 

It took a moment to piece together the dots. Why he was gone so long. The bruises. The piece of her past and the only gift from the kind nurses she had left in his palm. That meant… he’d put himself in danger, went looking for trouble, just to steal something she’d mentioned offhandedly once?

“I can’t believe that guy still had this,” he started, breaking the silence. “There’s probably nothing else like it. No chain, though.”

She shook her head, swallowing, and finally met his eyes again. “Why?” Why risk his life and everything they’d worked towards for this?

He only shrugged. “I hate thieves who steal without reason.” He grinned again and raised an eyebrow. “You going soft on me?”

She hadn’t noticed there were tears in her eyes and she angrily wiped them away. “No! I’m—” She didn’t know what to think. Her hands still shook with anger at making her feel so worried for so long for something so small, but the enormous gratitude expanded in her chest. At this point she couldn’t tell if her body wanted to throw a punch at that grin or kiss him. She did neither; flinging her arms around his waist instead seemed sufficient enough.

She must’ve surprised him because he froze. After a second, though, she felt awkward hands pat her back, and she pulled away quickly, not meeting his eyes. Then, to cover up whatever just happened, she punched him in the shoulder. 

“Ow!”

“Don’t scare us like that again!”

He laughed and rubbed his shoulder. “You’re welcome.” 

She remembered Vlad was there, who looked incredibly confused and amused. “I’m going to bed,” she told him, too exhausted for anything else. 

On her way out of the kitchen she caught a glimpse of their conversation. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!”

“That was very gentlemanly of you, Dmitry. Are you going soft?”

“Be quiet. You know that’s not why I did it.”

“Sure, and what’s next? Flowers? Chocolates?”

Anya smiled to herself, unable to hear the rest. She rubbed her thumb on the side of the pendant, re-memorizing the worn bumps and edges, and tucked it in the pocket of the inside of her coat. It fell with a clack onto her diamond. No, she wouldn’t think too much of any of it, even if it rested against her heart. 

[the-keeper-crew]

Mia’s Sophiana fic

Whoever answers Mia’s new asks, please add the newest installment to this post, I can’t always do it. -Misty

story is under the cut because it got super long -dmitri

Knock knock. Sophie answered her bedroom door, to see Biana standing there. “Uhh hi Biana.” Sophie said awkwardly. “Come on in.”Biana sat down and smiled at her, making Sophie hug her tightly. “I just came to check in on you, with all the hectic stuff happening.”“I’m fine. Thanks for coming though.” Sophie said, “I don’t mean that rudely, sorry I’m really bad at speaking.” Sophie said. “I’ll stop now.”Biana laughed,“Will you go out with me?” Sophie asked, before she could stop herself. 

“Wait… you want to go out with me?” Biana looked at Sophie, her perfect face blushing a little. Sophie nodded, the butterflies in her stomach doing loop the loops. “Yeah.” Sophie said, a little shakily.“R-really?” Biana asked, looking up at Sophie. Her teal eyes seemed nervous, but happy at the same time. “Weren’t you like… dating Fitz?”

“We kind of broke up.” Sophie said looking at her feet. “It wasn’t a bad thing.” She added quickly. “We just didn’t like each other like that.”Biana didn’t respond, awkwardly twisting her hair.“It’s fine fine if you don’t like me like that, I don’t really care phht why would I? I mean-” Sophie said quickly, as red as a tomato.“I like you too.” Biana cut her off.“Wait… really?” Sophie asked, looking up at annoyingly perfect Biana.“Y-yeah.” 

After Biana had left, Sophie screamed into her pillow. She had just asked Biana fricking Vacker out. Now was officially time to panic. After the pillow screaming fest, she immediately hailed Dex. “Judging from the amount of happiness you are radiating, you asked Biana out?”“Yeeeessss!” Sophie nearly squealed.

“What happened?” Dex asked. “Give me all the details.”“Was I this pushy when you asked fitz out?” Now it was Dex’s turn to blush.“I specifically remember you telling me that if I hadn’t just gotten a boyfriend, you would strangle me for the details.” Dex said laughing“That’s different.” Sophie said, grinning “I still can’t believe you asked Biana out. How did you manage to do it without hiding under your blankets for the rest of your life?”

Sophie waited outside Aldens door, when she stopped in her tracks. “Dad, I don’t want to register for Match lists!” Biana said angrily.“Biana Amberly Vacker. I am simply asking for you to register.”“I don’t want to!” Biana said.“There isn’t one boy that you hope is on your list?” Alden asked.“No.”“No boys, not even one? What about Keefe or Dex?” Alden said“Ugghhhh dad!” Biana groaned.“Don’t you want to see what boys are on your list?”“What if I don’t want to date a boy?“ the room went silent.

“Biana...” Alden said warningly. “Seriously. What if I want to date a girl?” Biana asked defiantly. “I know you’re a rebellious teenager...” “no seriously.” Biana said. “Well then I guess you’d have to reconsider your place in this family.” Alden said quietly. “Alden...” Della said quietly. “Get out of here. Both of you.” Alden said and Sophie scrambled away.

Sophie sat on her bed, worrying. She knew the elves might not be as accepting, but the way Alden had talked to Biana earlier made her stomach twist. She stood up and paced the room. Why was this so hard? Couldn’t people just love who they wanted to love? She sighed. Knock knock. “Come in!” Sophie called. Edaline stepped inside, and looked at Sophie. “Are you ok? You’ve been acting upset.”

“Oh I’m fine.” Sophie lied.“You sure?” Edaline said, sitting next to Sophie.“I really am.” Sophie said, trying to convince herself.Edaline wrapped her arms around Sophie, and Sophie breathed in her scent of lilac. “You can tell me anything, you know that?” Edaline asked softly.“I know…” Sophie said. Could she really though. “ I love you mom.”“I love you too sweetheart.”

Sophie watched Edaline leave, her head swirling. Would Edaline and Grady even care? They’d always been so supportive of Sophie, would this change anything, but aldens angry words came back to haunt her. “Well then I guess you’d have to reconsider your place in this family.” She hugged her blanket around her. Why was this so hard? She closed her eyes trying to think about good things. Like how she was dating the most beautiful girl in the world, and that beautiful girl was strong and... zzzzz

The sun rose over the fields of havenfield, slipping under Sophie’s curtains. She woke up, and flopped back onto her pillows. It’s too early to be up… suddenly someone knocked on her door. “Sophie?” Biana called. Sophie nearly jumped out of bed and straightened the wrinkled tunic she had slept in. “Yes?” She asked, trying to force down the butterflies in her stomach. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah sure.” Sophie smiled at her, trying to forget that her hair looked like Verdi had licked it. Biana sat on her bed, smiling at her. “Did I wake you up?” Biana asked, concerned. “It’s fine, I should have been up anyway. What are you doing up so early?” Sophie asked. “I wanted to get out of the house. Dinner last night was awkward to say the least.” “I’m sorry…” Sophie said. “It’s fine. Dad’ll come around.” Sophie nodded, but still was worried. 

“You ok? How did fitz react?” Sophie asked. “Oh, he brought me some mallowmelt, and told me that what I did was brave.” “And you didn’t save any mallowmelt for me?” Sophie asked, pretending to be indignant. Biana laughed. “You really think I would do something as vile as to not bring my beautiful girlfriend mallowmelt?” Biana laughed.

Later that day, Alden hailed Sophie to talk with her in his office. Biana told her to go, she’d stay right here and would most definitely not look through her old photo albums. “What did you want to talk about?” Sophie asked. “Nothing important. Amy haile to tell you happy birthday.” It took Sophie a minute to process that. “Oh!Yeah. Thanks.” Sophie says. “Was that all?”Alden shook his head. “Have you seen Biana? She’s going through a bit of a rebellious phase.” Sophie wanted to punch Alden. “No“

Alden narrowed his eyes but didn’t prod any further. “Well, if you do see her then tell her to come home.” “I will” Sophie said, lying through gritted teeth. She light leaped back to everglen, running into Edaline. “Oh!” Edaline smiled at her. “Biana just left, said something about going to Atlantis? She seemed flustered.” Edaline said. “Oh, it was probably nothing.” Sophie said.

“Oh, guess what? It’s my human birthday!” Sophie said trying to change the subject. “I know elves don’t really do birthdays but…” edaline smiled. “Do you want to have a dinner with a special friend or two? Just something small? I’ll ask the gnomes to make something special?” “That would be awesome!” Sophie hugged Edaline, breathing in the scent of lilacs, which is rare especially in a place where there’s more animal poop a day than animals. 

Sophie looked over her friends. “It’s my birthday guys, so I swear to all the gods if I even hear the word gulon at the dinner table, I will promise you will never want to cross me again.” “Jeez who you tryin to impress foster?” Keefe asked. “Probably her new girlfriend Biana.” Dex said. Sophie glared at him as Keefe dramatically opened his eyes wide. 

Keefe automatically broke into a grin. “You must tell me everything.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Not now!” Keefe laughed. “Ok, note to self, remind Sophie to spill the tea about her dating the next Vacker sibling.” Tam snickers a little at that. They walk into the dining room, all still teasing each other. “Sorry I’m late.” Biana rushes in, and Keefe raises his eyebrows. Biana sits down next to Sophie, out of breath. “What’d I miss?” Keefe smirks. “Oh nothing”

They shared a dinner of traditional human food, vegetarian of course, which Sophie didn’t know how Edaline got her hands on. Grady even showed them a cool human card trick, which Keefe then had to try. Biana kept shooting her these adorable looks that made Sophie want to melt inside. Edaline raised her eyebrows at Sophie, but she just blushed and kept talking with her friends.

After Sophie tried to teach her friends how to sing happy birthday, and it just ended up horribly out of tune, she and her friends retreated up to her room to hang out. She sat on the bed, while the rest of them sat on bean bags on the floor. They had been one short, so Keefe “took one for the team” by sitting next to Tam on his beanbag. Link of course found this hilarious, and Tam just looked vaguely disgruntled but pleased with himself.

Slowly, her friends started to head home until it was just the Vacker siblings. “Hey fitz...” Biana said, standing up. “Could you head home and tell dad I’m having a sleepover with Sophie tonight?” “Biana, he’s not gonna like that…” fitz started to say. “It’s fine.” Fitz obliged, and soon the two girls were alone. “I’m sorry, but your dad can be a real jerk face sometimes.” Biana laughed. “Definitely. Oh!” She pulled out a hastily wrapped package. “Happy Birthday Sophie.”

Sophie took the gift, blushing a little. It was wrapped in a silvery paper with purple swirls, tied up with a lopsided bow. She opened the present carefully, trying not to rip the packaging. Biana looked a little nervous, but Sophie gasped when she saw the gift. It was a beautiful snowglobe of foxfire, with little mini people, so small you could barely see them milling around the campus. “It’s awesome Biana! I love it!” Biana blushed a little, making sophie blush more.

Sophie put it on her shelf carefully, and sat back down, stealing glances at Biana. The Vacker girl looked a little lost in thought, staring out the window. “Do you want to go for a walk?” Sophie asked “Verdi should be asleep so we don’t have to worry about a green feathered chaperone.” Biana giggled. “Sure.” They snuck outside, the light from the windows of the house half illuminating their features.

The moonlight made everything shine with a sort of silvery glow, making it feel almost dream-like. They started strolling side-by-side, along the fences of the enclosures. The animals were mostly quiet, which was good. Sophie wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, but after a few minutes, they were holding hands. They didn’t talk, but just enjoyed each other’s company, content with the silence. 

It could have been 2 minutes, it could have been an hour, Sophie didn’t know, she liked Biana’s company too much. They made their way up to the Panakes tree, and sat there, watching the moonlight filtering through the delicate flowers. “Sophie?” Biana asked, softly. “Yes?” Sophie whispered. “Can I kiss you?” Sophie’s breath stopped for a moment. 

Sophie didn’t bother responding, she just kissed Biana. In the back of her mind, she wondered how much Keefe would tease her, but that wasn’t important now. “So. That happened.” Sophie finally said. “It did.” Biana said, her cheeks flushed. They grinned at each other like idiots, unaware of the blue eyes watching from the window.

Sophie went to bed floating on a cloud that night, Biana sleeping on a pile of bean bags. She had a wonderful dream, about dancing and balls, and Biana in the most gorgeous dress. She woke up the next morning, adrenaline still there, making her feel giddy. She snuck past a sleeping Biana, and downstairs. Grady and Edaline were talking quietly over tea. “Good morning guys!” She said, and they abruptly stopped.

“Morning Sophie.” Grady said, nodding at her. “How are-“ he was cut off by a knock at the door. Edaline got up to answer. It was Alden, who looked like he hadn’t slept. “Is my daughter here? Fitz said she was sleeping over, I’d like to pick her up.” Edaline nodded. “It’s really fine, we don’t mind having her over.” Alden shook his head. “Morning Sophie, where’s Biana?”

“Umm… she’s still sleeping.” “Go wake her up for me, will you?” Sophie nodded and ran upstairs. She shook Biana awake. “It’s your dad.” Biana groaned and stood up. Sophie knew she shouldn’t think about how absolutely adorable Biana looked with bed head, but really, who was going to stop her. They headed downstairs to Alden sipping a cup of tea. “Morning Biana.” 

Biana awkwardly waved at him. “Well, we better be going now.” Alden said starting to turn. “Would Biana be able to stay for breakfast? I’m having the gnomes make something special.” Edaline said. “No, I don’t need her infringing on your family any more.” And with that, the two Vackers were gone.

Sophie sat down with Edaline and Grady. An awkward silence settled over them as they ate delicious breakfast pastries. Sophie finished hers first, and sat back. “I had fun last night. Thanks guys.” Edaline looked like she wanted to say something, but held it back. “I’m glad you had fun.”

Sophie headed up to her room, telling her parents she was gonna get ready for foxfire tommorow. She opened the door to iggy poking his head up from a pile of blankets. “Hey iggy.” She said, picking him up. “You’re adorable, aren’t you?” He didn’t respond, simply farting in her face.

“Life is easy for you, isn’t it? You don’t have a girlfriend who’s dad is just… and live in a world where there’s no chance you can ever be normal?” Iggy grinned at her and curled up in her hair. Sophie sighed. “And now I’m talking to an imp. Great.”

After an hour of moping, or as Sophie liked to call it, hiding under your blankets and looking through your photographic memory, Edaline knocked on the door. “Come in” Sophie called, sitting up. “Ok, so with foxfire starting tomorrow, I wondered if you wanted to go shopping in Atlantis?”

“Sure.” Sophie said, standing up. “You should get dressed and ready.” Sophie nodded. Edaline left gracefully, and Sophie quickly changed into a grey tunic and whatever else she needed. She headed downstairs. “Ready.”She said “Ok, do you want to bring your girlfriend?”

Sophie nearly choked. “I- what?” Edaline finished putting on her cloak. “Biana? Do you want to bring her?” Sophie blinked. “What? How? Huh?” How could Edaline know? They weren’t that obvious were they? What did she think? Why was this so hard?

“How do you know?” Sophie finally managed to spit out. Edaline sat down next to her. “You weren’t super subtle last night at dinner, and then I accidentally saw you by the Panakes. Sophie blushed, looking down. “Are you ok?” Edaline asked. “Yeah… I’m fine.” Sophie hugged her knees, not meeting Edalines warm gaze. “Hey… I’m here if you need me.” Edaline said, hugging Sophie.

The first day of foxfire came quicker than Sophie would have liked. But there she was, adjusting that stupid half cape in the mirror. She hadn’t seen Biana since that morning, but told herself it was because of school prep. She waved goodbye to Edaline and Grady, and headed to the Leap master. 

When she arrived at foxfire, she immediately looked around for Biana. She didn’t even realize Dex walk up beside her. “Hey Soph. You excited for classes?” Dex asked. She didn’t respond for a sec. “oh it’s you. yeah.” Dex faked indignation. “Oh, It’s you? That’s what your best friend gets? I’m offended.” Sophie snickered. “Sorry Dex…”

They walked together to her locker when she finally saw Biana. She was looking at Fitz, as if they were having a serious conversation. It took all of Sophie’s willpower to not go and interrupt. “Earth to Sophie!” Dex said. “Are you even listening? The gang is getting together after school to have epic snowball fights at my house.” Sophie laughed again. “Do you ever get sick of snow?” She asked. “Nope!” 

“Sophie?” Sophie nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard Biana behind her. “Oh, hi! I didn’t see you there.” Biana smiled at her. “Sorry for being so distant-“ she started. “It’s fine it really is, I’m sorry I interrupted you. I’m sorry.” Sophie said, stumbling over her words. Biana giggled. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s fine.” Sophie grinned.

“So how are you lovebirds doing?” Keefe walked up, grinning. “We are not lovebirds,” Sophie said. Biana raised her perfect little eyebrows. “I beg to differ” Dex jumped in. “Ok, then how are things going with Fitz Dex, and Keefe, what’s up with Tam?” Biana said. Both boys blushed, and Sophie laughed. “What classes do y’all have first?”

Their conversation was cut off by Magnate Leto’s voice coming from the large screen thing. “Happy first day of school my prodigies! I hope you are all doing well, and are excited for a new year of learning!” Keefe snickered. “And Keefe sencen I would like to ask you how you found it appropriate to stick a muskog in my desk drawer and since it technically happened before school started you will not get detention, but I do recommend staying out of your locker” “It wasn’t even me” Keefe said.

“My first class is… elementalism.” Sophie made a face. Biana looked at her. “I have Alchemy… I’ll see y’all at lunch!” Biana walked away, her floofy brown hair bouncing. Sophie was pretty sure her heart just melted. She walked to class, nearly floating.

Lunch time couldn’t have come fast enough. Sophie tried not to run down the hall, but she was going to see Biana at lunch and honestly that seemed like a good excuse to run. She sat at a table, Fitz and Linh were already there, talking about something. “What are you talking about?” Sophie asked. 

Fitz looked at her. “Not much, mostly just first day of school stuff.” He said. Sophie raised her eyebrows. “You seriously havent heard?” Fitz asked. Linh nodded. “I thought they told teachers to give the announcement.” Sophie shrugged. “Well my elementalism professor is a bit swiss cheesed brain, so what is it?” “Well…”

Suddenly Keefe burst up behind the table. “There’s a dance guys!” Sophie blinked. “Huh?” Fitz laughed as the rest of their friends sat down. “It’s called the first annual welcome ball!” Linh explained. “Both parents and students will show up!” “When is it?” Sophie asked. “This Friday!” Sophie blinked. That was not a lot of time. 

Biana showed up late to the lunch table, so Keefe excitedly explained to her the dance. Though Sophie suspected he just saw it as a way to annoy his father. Biana looked excited, and grinned at Sophie making her heart skip a beat. Why does she have to be so cute?

After lunch, Sophie managed to catch Biana in the hall. “Ummm soo I hope your dad wasn’t too bad…” Sophie said. “No, I just got a talk about the Vacker legacy, even though I’m only part of it when he wants me to be.” Biana said grumpily. “I’m sorry…” Biana rolled her eyes. “The one thing that made it better was Mom mouthing the words to it in the background, Im fairly sure she has it memorized by now.” Both of the girls laughed a little at that.

Sophie grinned. “So… the dance…” Biana said, tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. “The dance…” Sophie repeated. “Are you going?” Biana asked. “I think so?” Sophie said. “Is that a question?” Biana teased. “I mean yeah, probably.” Biana grinned. “You know what this means?” “What?” Sophie asked. “We get to go outfit shopping.” Biana said excitedly.

The first week of school was officially over, and Sophie was exhausted. She flopped on the couch of Rimeshire, surrounded by her friends. They had all agreed to stop invading Dex’s house, but he had made a surround sound 4K movie watching set up for his mom, and no one else had anything as good. They all settled in, and bickered about the movie. Dex wanted The Hunger games, Sophie Harry Potter.

On Saturday morning, Sophie woke up to iggy asking for attention. After giving him a few papers to rip up, she headed downstairs for breakfast. The dance was tomorrow, and today was when Biana would drag her dress shopping. Sophie ate a muffin, excited for the day. Generally she didn’t like clothes shopping that much, but if Biana was going to be there that made it better.

Atlantis was buzzing with activity, Sophie recognized at least four families from school, and tried her best to avoid their gaze. The twisting spires of Atlantis glinted in the light provided by the balefire. Voices echoed across the empty streets as the crowds bustled along. Sophie felt a little overwhelmed by it all, and stood close to Edaline.

Suddenly someone tapped Sophie’s shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of Atlantis. “Oh. It’s you Biana.” She sighed with relief. Biana was standing there, perfect as ever, with Della standing there. “Hi Della.” Della smiled at her. “Hi Sophie.” The two moms started walking behind the girls, talking about whatever Elf Moms™ talk about. Biana and Sophie walked side by side, watching each other out of the corner of their eye.

The four elves headed into The Atlantis Boutique, and Sophie thought Biana was in heaven. Her stunning teal eyes widened, as they looked at all the dresses. Before Sophie could process the ginormous size this shop was, Biana grabbed her arm, and dragged her down aisles of long dresses. Edaline laughed as she watched the two of them disappear behind the rows of sparkling dresses. Della ducked out of the shop, saying she was meeting a friend, and Edaline stood at the front watching the two girls.

Biana worked with a scary efficiency, picking up dresses, holding them up to her and Sophie, and putting them back or carrying them with her. Sophie followed in awe as Biana quickly broke down each dress based on what fabrics it was made of, additional materials, effectiveness to strangle someone with, and ability to kick someone. Sophie swore that if Biana weaponized her knowledge, they’d all be dead.

Finally they had narrowed the outfits down to two outfits. A red suit thing or a shining red dress for Sophie, and a long silvery dress for Biana or a purple dress with silver sparkles making it shimmer in the light of balefire. Sophie went into the changing room, and tried on the two outfits. They both looked stunning according to Biana, which was a whole other level of stress to choose the right one.

Finally, Sophie decided on the suit, and the lady running the store put it in a box. Biana also chose a dress but wouldn’t show Sophie which one. Della re-entered the shop, a little out of breath. “Do you girls want to go to a bakery in Mysterium?” Della asked. “Sure.” Biana said, and Sophie nodded. 10 minutes later, the four of them found themselves on the cobbled streets of Mysterium.

The four of them sat at a table, and a server brought them a plate of assorted elvin pastries, including rippleruffs, mallowmelt, and a whole assortment of things that were delicious and could most likely start wars. “Mmmm this is good.” Sophie said, chewing a butterblast. Biana nodded in agreement, and the two of them helped finish the pastries. Sophie stretched. “That was really good.” Edaline smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

The night of the dance came too quickly. Edaline told her everything would be perfect, and rumor had it the council themselves would be attending. That didn’t stop Sophie from worrying though. She’d never really been to a dance, what would she act like? She straightened her suit for the 43rd time, fidgeting with the buttons. She exhaled, and walked with Grady and Edaline to the Leap master.

Foxfire was decorated beautifully, though a lot of the decorations were fungi, and honestly Sophie was really annoyed at this point. Mold was not good decor. They headed into the gymnasium, which was beautifully decorated, and this time there was no fungus. Hip hip hooray! Sophie looked around, wandering through groups of students and parents.

“Sophie!” Biana called from the corner of the room. Sophie excitedly walked over to her friends. “Hi guys!” She smiled at her friends. “You look awesome!” Sophie said to Biana. Biana twirled in her purple and teal dress. “You do too” Sophie awkwardly straightened her suit. She caught Keefe shooting her a look and she glared at him. Their little group of eight laughed and poked at each other while more people filed into the gym.

“Sophie!” Biana called from the corner of the room. Sophie excitedly walked over to her friends. “Hi guys!” She smiled at her friends. “You look awesome!” Sophie said to Biana. Biana twirled in her purple and teal dress. “You do too” Sophie awkwardly straightened her suit. She caught Keefe shooting her a look and she glared at him. Their little group of eight laughed and poked at each other while more people filed into the gym.

The dance floor went silent as the 12 councilors appeared. They appeared regal as always, all wearing different colors, that shimmered in the lighting of the gym. After the initial shock of their arrival, things went back to normal, now with the councilors mingling with the students and parents. Sophie was pretty sure one kid peed himself when bronte started talking to them.  Slowly, their little group dissolved. Dex and Fitz went off into the crowd, and the. Keefe nearly dragged tam to the staff cafeteria “while it was unguarded” That left the four girls. Marella said something about checking in on her mom, and Linh vaguely followed her. Sophie looked awkwardly at Biana. “Umm…” Biana grinned. “I have something I want to show you.” Biana dragged Sophie out of the gym and down the hall way.

Biana opened a side door, and they walked through the grass. They could still hear the faint sound of music and chatter from the gym, and light flowed from the windows, half illuminating the world. Biana led her to a small clearing, filled with long weeping willow trees, and little flowers that glowed in the moonlight. “This place is beautiful.”

“Shall we dance?” Biana reached out her hand, and Sophie blushed, thankful for the darkness. Sophie took a deep breath, and took Bianas hand. The two girls started dancing, to the melody of the forest, the crickets song, and the moonlight symphony. Sophie couldn’t remember a time she’d been happier

The two girls danced, almost in their own little world. Time was irrelevant. They danced around the little clearing, twirling to their own tune. Finally, they slowed to a stop. Sophie had completely given up any hope of hiding her blush. Then, there under the moon, the two girls shared a kiss together, all worries forgotten.

Suddenly a boom echoed through the campus. The two girls stumbled back, shocked. Their eyes met, full of fear. They ran toward the campus, Sophie wondering if bianas extensive knowledge of how to fight in a dress would have to be used. They emerged from the forest, to see the gymnasium erupting in flames. It looked like most of the people were out of the gym, but Sophie could see black cloaked figures, even from the distance.

Magnate Leto ran up to them, followed by their friends. “You kids need to get out of here.” “But-“ Sophie protests. “Now.” Magnate Leto gives her a hard glare. Suddenly Linh pipes up. “Where’s marella?” Marella wasn’t with them. “I see her!” Tam says, pointing to their braided friend. She’s stuck in a crowd, surrounded by people. (i dont think this is the neverseen being antigay, just generic evil stuff. Decisionssss)

Before Tam could stop her, Linh was dashing through the crowd, shooting water at the flames. “Marella!” Linh calls, and marella looks up. “Linh?” Marella blasts another wave of fire at a neverseen member. Suddenly a wall of fire surrounds the crowd, and Tam’s breath catches.

Sophie feels herself start falling, even though she’s on solid ground. Linh… marella… they can’t be gone! She can’t lose more friends. She feels Biana wrap her arms around her, as she starts shaking. Nononono! Suddenly a figure starts emerging from the blaze.

Marella is there, seemingly unharmed except for singed hair. In her arms, is an unconscious figure, Linh. Tam immediately rushes to Linh’s side. “Ahem.” Magnate Leto says, “you all need to go. Take this.” He hands them a leaping crystal and dissapears into the crowd. Sophie holds the crystal to the light, and they step into the beam.

They stumble onto someone’s front lawn. Physic, or Livvy stepped out the front door and ushered them inside. They set Linh on the couch, and sat around a dining table. “What just happened?” Sophie asked. “How did no one know the neverseen were there?” Tam shrugged. “It happened out of the blue. Everything was fine, and the there was fintan trying to burn down the gym.”

Sophie knew that they shouldn’t be able to say things like that so casually, but they had been through so much, the unhinged pyrokinetic really had to try to surprise them. Livvy walked into the dining room, wiping her forehead. “Your sister is in a stable condition.” She tells tam, and sits down. “How much do you guys know?”

“Nothing.” Sophie said. “What in the world is going on?” She asked. Livvy sighed and shook her head. “The neverseen came for you a few days ago, Grady found shreds of a black cloak in the pastures. Verdi got to the member before they got anywhere, but we were on high alert.” Sophie narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” Livvy sighed. “We wanted your life to be as normal as possible.”

“Well what happens now?” Sophie asked, a little annoyed. She wasn’t a kid anymore, she wanted to know what was happening in her life. “You’re going to pretend to be humans.” Livvy says matter of factly. The table burst into chaos. Sophie’s eyes widened, and the rest of them shouted various protests. Livvy quieted them. “For a while. You’re going to be visiting me, Aunt Olivias house. That’s what you’re telling everyone anyway.“ 

“What?” Sophie asked. “The eight of us don’t look remotely related.” Livvy sighed. “I told the fork man that, he said to figure it out.” Sophie giggled. “We’ll just go by a don’t ask don’t tell thing. Are we like actually going places and stuff?” Livvy nodded. “You will be normal teenagers, even going to school and doing homework.” The whole table groaned.

Three days later, and after almost dying because of Livvy’s driving, the eight of them headed into the front office to register for school. They all looked normal in tshirts and jeans, except for linhs arm in a cast. They got registered, and headed to their lockers. Sophie had to show them how to open them without licking them, and they headed to their individual homerooms, ready for the day.

By lunch rumor had spread of the mysterious eight new students who refused to talk to anyone outside of the eight. They all sat at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Linh hated not being able to talk to the humans, but tam told her it was for their safety. They sat down, to talk about the first day.

Before they could settle in, a group of people came over. “Hi, we noticed you lot are new here, do you want to come sit with us?” Sophie looked at Biana and the rest of them, and they shrugged. The eight of them headed over to a larger table. “My name’s beau,” the first person said. “Mine is felony.” The person with lime green hair said, grinning. They all sat down awkwardly. “What’s y’all’s names?” Felony asked grinning. “I’m Sophia, this is Bianca, Dexter, Marin, Aylin, Tommy, Keegan, and Fred

Her friends hated the names Livvy insisted on calling them while humans, but played along. “Cool.” Another person at the table said. “This is Lia, Jojo, Lynn, and the rest.” “Oh wow I’m glad we mean so much to you that you’ll tell the newbies our name. I’m tater, call me tater.” Sophie blinked. “Great.” These humans were nice? Of course there were nice humans, but she had never felt welcomed by people outside her family

“So tommy…” Keefe said, scooting closer to Tam. “How did you like your first classes.” “Shut up Keegan” tam said glaring at Keefe. Sophie laughed. “Sorry about my friends.” Beau smiled. “Where’d y’all come from?” Sophie shrugged “San Francisco, we’re visiting a friend of all our families, we’re close.” “Yep” Biana agreed. Sophie though it sounded suspicious at best, but Lia and Lynn were nodding. “Cool.”

“I feel like I know you guy...” felony said, narrowing their eyes “How could you know us?” Sophie said. “We’ve been on the west coast forever!” Sophie was panicking a little. Felony shrugged. “I have some family out there, might have seen you around. “Oh, ok…” Sophie sighed in relief. Sophie took a bite of the veggie roll Livvy had packed. She had made their lunches because vegetarian.

Brrrrriiinng! The cafeteria got noisy as people clamored to leave. “See y’all tommorow?” Beau called as they joined the crowd. Sophie nodded. She turned to her friends. “That wasn’t so bad.” “It really wasn’t.” Marella said in agreement. They all headed to classes, a little more confident.

The group got home, exhausted. They all flopped in the living room, sighing. “You kids tired?” Livvy asked “you had to give me the name Fred?” Fitz asked, sitting up. “It sounds so weird!” “It sounds normal.” Livvy corrected. Tam grumbled something about the name tommy, and Keefe laughed at him. “School was good. We even made a few friends.” Livvy smiled. “Friends are good. Now to celebrate the first day of school, do y’all want to get takeout?”

After a dinner of delicious pizza, which her friends devoured, Livvy came in. “I have a surprise for you guys!” Tam looked at her. “Is this surprise better than you making my name Tommy to the humans.” Linh giggled. “Yes, it is.” Livvy said. “I got everyone phones.” Everyone blinked, confused except for Sophie. 

“What is a phone?” Keefe asked. “Don’t ask me Keegan.” Tam said grumpily. Dex took it. “Oh gosh! It’s like an imparter, but like…” he trailed off, and started pushing buttons. Marella took hers as well, but immediately got confused. Sophie wanted to die laughing, this was hilarious. Keefe took to poking his phone cautiously, watch what happens, and repeat. Linh simply stared at it like telepathically telling it what to do.

A few weeks passed, and things seem to grow normal. The only reminder of the lost cities was when they hailed their parents/friends to check in each Friday. Repairs were made to foxfire, and the eight stayed underground. Finally, one Wednesday, at lunch with the kids from school, they had grown closer over the weeks, and Sophie realized felony was right. It did feel like they knew each other. Finally, Lia tapped on her shoulder one day in class.

“Hey Sophia, it’s my birthday party this weekend, I was wondering if y’all wanted to come.” Sophie shrugged. “I’ll ask the others, but can’t think of a reason to not go.” Lia smiled. Sophie was right, the others did in fact want to go. The day before the party was a mess of gift shopping, and Biana insisting they have perfect outfits. Livvy was also worried, they all were, the threat of the neverseen was still there, and they didn’t want their human friends in the crossfire.

Ding dong! They eight of them waited by the front door, the sun setting. “Hi guys!“Felony opened the door, and ushered them inside. They dropped their gifts off, and headed downstairs where chaos was already beginning.

Lynn and some others were aggressively… could you aggressively talk? Well, they were talking about some vacation to Amsterdam that Sophie was unsure whether it happened or not. Keefe automatically went to join them, and Sophie went off to find someone to talk to. She’d never really been to a human birthday party other than her sisters and her own. What was she supposed to do?

Suddenly Beau ran down the stairs. “Guys! Me and Tater got the fire pit going for s’mores! Come on!” Lynn looked incredulous, like she was saying “you trusted them with fire?” But Lia just shrugged and they all ran upstairs. 

They all settled around the fire pit, Biana and sophie shared a chair next to the fire, with a blanket pulled over them. Biana snuggled up next to her, which the others didn’t seem to kind as they violently stabbed marshmallows, and then set them on fire. Keefe, to no ones surprise found this process quite amusing.

Well… Keefe found it amusing until he decided to try and feed tam the marshmallow sandwich. Long story short, it ended with a marshmallow covered Tam and a hysterically laughing Keefe. Biana giggled and made her s’more, which was somehow perfectly cooked. The humans didn’t even seem that bothered, getting up to their own marshmallow related shenanigans.

The scene slowly devolved until it was a full on marshmallow war. Marella was secretly making her marshmallows meltier to throw at people, and Keefe was pelting everyone with half melted marshmallows. Fitz was trying to stop this of course, saying things like “guys, we don’t want to waste the marshmallows,” that was until Dex smushed and open s’more in his face, it just got more chaotic from there.

Finally, it winded down and people started floating to the back porch where there were traditional party games like pin the tail on the donkey. The elves found it hilarious, and Sophie giggled as Linh tried to stop felony from hitting the donkey. Biana looked up at her. “This is nice isn’t it?” She asked, the fire reflecting in her teal eyes. “It really is.” (No it’s fine, it’s your suggestions and feedback is why this is steadily growing, and not just ending.)

“Kiss kiss kiss kiss.” Sophie turned around to see Beau badly hiding behind a bush. She blushed and Beau laughed. Biana giggled. “We have to please the people, right?” Sophie blushed even harder as Biana kissed her. Beau laughed harder. “I knew it. JOJO! YOU OWE ME 15 DOLLARS!” Beau yelled. “Oh and lovebirds, cakes out.” Biana stood up and followed Beau. “You coming?

“Yeah one sec.” Sophie said, sitting up and stretching. Biana walked towards the porch, and Sophie looked into the bushes. She could have sworn she saw something moving. She looked over her shoulder. Everyone was too busy talking to notice her. She walked towards the bushes and looked down. There was a small scrap of parchment… she picked it up, expecting a black swan note. She opened it, and her heart stopped. It was the neverseen eye, staring up at her.

Sophie hasn’t slept since Lia’s party. She had rushed home as soon as the party finished, and told Livvy, who told forkle. Shockingly, he didn’t demand they relocate, they instead had some members on standby to defend the house, and they couldn’t go anywhere alone. Sophie stared out the window. The moon was rising and she knew she should be in bed, but the human world had coffee, so it was fine, right?

She scribbled in her notebook, running over that night in her head. Had anything been out of the ordinary? Her head hurt, and she groaned. She really should sleep… but if she slept she’d have nightmares and honestly no sleep was better. She paced her room, filtering through her thoughts. She froze as someone knocked on her door

She opened the door to see Biana holding two mugs of hot chocolate. “Fitz made these for you. Said he got the recipe from Beau, so it has to be good.” Sophie took a mug and sat down at her desk, Biana sitting on her bed. “How did they did they find us Bi?” Sophie asked, for the 345th time this week. “I don’t know Soph, but obsessing over it won’t help. When’s the last time you slept?” Sophie thought. “I think… a few days ago for an hour or two?” She sipped her cocoa.

Biana shook her head. “You need to sleep Sophie.” Sophie looked at her floor. “I’m fine Bi” Biana raised her eyebrows. “You’re not. Even the humans are noticing somethings up. If you won’t sleep for you, will you sleep to help protect us? Will you sleep for me?” Sophie hugged her knees. Biana wrapped her arms around Sophie, hugging her. “Please sleep…” 

Sophie woke up the next morning, to Biana still there, arms wrapped around her. Biana looked peaceful when she slept. Everything was peaceful. That was until she heard Keefe’s muffled screaming downstairs. She shot up and ran down the stairs. “What is it?! Neverseen? The council? Gluons?” Keefe laughed. “No, it’s snowing!” Sophie peered out the window. 

Biana was still asleep when Sophie walked in. “Biana?” She asked. “I don’t want bananas. They taste yucky.” Biana said, still half asleep. Sophie giggled and shook her shoulder gently. “Wake up, it’s snowing outside.” Biana sat up, still bleary eyed. “Really?” Sophie nodded.

Bianas eyes lit up. “I have a plan then.” She said, grinning evilly. Sophie laughed. “Should I be worried?” Biana smirked. “No, but fitz should be, I still haven’t been able to get revenge on him for dumping that flour on me back at…” she trailed off. The air was thick. Both of them knew they couldn’t be normal. “Hey…” Sophie said as Biana looked down. “What was your plan?”

Biana shook her head evilly. “You’ll see.” The morning went by quickly, when fitz got a call from Beau. “Hey guys, there’s gonna be a snow war at the park, you wanna join?” A shared glance from their friends, and they were in.

It took longer than expected to get ready for the snow, none of the elf’s were good at Velcro, and Sophie was too busy laughing to help them. Finally, they piled in Livvys car, and they headed to the park. Luckily, it wasn’t full on war yet. Felony and Lia waved at them, inviting them to sit at the snowy picnic tables.

Tam muttered something about being cold, but sat down with the rest of them. Felony started talking about how epic the war was going to be. Then, a wave a cold snow hits Sophie. She turns around to see Beau and Tater laughing, her and a couple others now covered in snow. “Oh it’s on!

[devilswalkingstick]

Oh God!!! Your writing is a m a z i n g!!!

“I could never forget you.” for Glenya?

thank u so much!!! hope u enjoy this <3

-

Anastasia stayed in Paris, though she refused the crown.

She's Anastasia to her grandmother, and to the conman only when he’s teasing.

She has Anastasia’s memories, but she's Anya now, normal little Anya who was found on a road so long ago now. Or she's as much Anya as she can be when Romanov blood runs through her veins.

It's been five years since she came to Paris, five years since denying any right to the crown, five years since she saw her beautiful Russia.

She and Dmitry were together for less than half a year when they realized they loved and cared for each other, but not in that way—his feelings had been a celebrity crush from when he was ten years old, and hers had been… Well, a wish for a fairytale ending.

She did not tell Dmitry, of course, simply settling for explaining that any love she felt for him was more familial than romantic—not a lie in any way, but not the full truth either.

She wore a commoner’s comfortable clothes except when she was having dinner with Nana, for she was expected to play the part of a princess then—and she did, with a practiced ease one acquires from staying in a role for five years.

And this has worked for her. Mostly. She does not regret finding her Nana, but she almost wishes she never was Anastasia in the first place. She does not miss communism and Bolsheviks, but she misses Russia. She does not yearn for the days of empty memories, but she yearns for the easier life of Anya before.

As she wanders the streets of Paris, her thoughts wander to all corners of her crowded head.

A truck backfires and it brings a flood of horrible, bloody, painful memories to the front of her mind.

She doesn’t hit the ground this time, and she realizes it's because someone's arms have caught her.

"You're shaking," a voice that is both too familiar and too much a stranger says, "Again."

She tenses, and she isn't sure she wants to look up from where her eyes have glued themselves to his chest to confirm what her heart is telling her is true, but her head is telling her can't be.

"Hey, are you alright?" that same voice is so soft, gentle, it can't be-

She looks up finally, and her throat feels tight. "Gleb."

"And here I was, thinking you'd forgotten me," he says, in that joking tone he used the time she was brought into his office.

"I could never forget you," she replies quietly, and she realizes he's still holding her, and she doesn't want to pull away.

But she does.

She stands tall, straightening the long sleeves of her dress, and puts on an air of indifference. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here."

"Ah," he says, folding his arms behind his back. "I do not belong in Russia anymore." He frowns, looking away. "I am not worthy of her."

"Well, we have that in common," Anya replies, and she sees now how tired he looks.

He's silent for a moment before speaking up again. "Why did you not accept the crown?"

"I couldn't, I can't be Anastasia," she answers, and somehow it's easier to tell him than anyone else, "I'm not her anymore, I'm just me."

"I like just you," he says, like it's something that's been on his mind for a long time but he can't honestly believe he said aloud. He steps back, pursing his lips. "My apologies, I should not-"

"There's a tea shop," she interrupts him, mimicking words from so long ago, she would have forgotten them except they play in her mind every night. He stares at her in bewilderment so she adds, "I don't suppose you'd fancy a cup?"

"I would," he answers, watching her like this might be some ridiculous joke, and she might laugh.

"Well," she says, and offers her hand, "come on then."

He stares at her hand, and slowly, very slowly, he takes it with his own.

The conversation over tea starts stilted, but relaxes with every passing minute until they're laughing, and talking like old friends when that couldn't be further from the truth, and they're both thinking of the last moment they saw each other, but five years have passed, and it doesn't seem to matter much anymore, because they're both alive, here, in each other's company.

And perhaps one cup of tea leads to another, and perhaps they're meeting in that little Russian tea shop regularly, and perhaps they become close friends, and perhaps that leads to more than friendship.

For now, they're just two lonely Russians who miss a world that no longer welcomes them, and they find comfort in that.

[royal-babey]

Lily

I wrote angst and it hurts like hell and oh god I cried whilst writing it.

Featuring my OC’s Nico and Dima Mahariel, and their father Revas Mahariel.

TW’s for blood, death, slavery, and just a shitton of angst.

-

In the forests of Antiva, walked three Dalish Elves.

Keeper of Clan Mahariel, Revas Mahariel, accompanied his young twin sons into the wild woodlands to show them the foundations of survival. This was something the family did often, at least twice a week if possible, and it was valuable time together for them. Revas’s Keeper duties often kept him busy, and sometimes unable to spend time with his sons at all.

He had a son walking on either side of him, both clutching his significantly larger hands tightly. Dmitri Mahariel chatted away happily to his Father, rambling on about anything that caught his interest or something exciting that had happened to him earlier that week. His younger brother, Nikolai Mahariel, was quite happy to walk in silence, allowing his brother to do the talking for the both of them.

Revas couldn’t be happier. Of course if his ex-wife could be here, that would make things even better. Revas regularly mourned the fact that the twins would not grow up without a motherly influence in their lives, but they seemed to be doing just fine.

‘’-and then and then!!! Nini made a scary face and said ‘You pee the bed Daerian.’ Daerian went running crying back to his Mamae and I got my stick sword back!!!’’

Revas was snapped out of his thoughts as Dima’s excitable voice raised in pitch as he told his Father his story, and there was a very indignant ‘Dima!’ from Nico as Revas let out a chuckle in amusement. He then looked down to his left to see a very sheepish Nico kicking a small rock across the grassy forest floor.

‘’Is that true, da’fen?’’

Nico just shrugged as a response, then muttered ‘’He was being mean…’’

Revas couldn’t argue with that.

Every now and then, the elder Elf would stop beside a bush, either with oddly coloured berries or flowers, and attempt to tell the twins the properties of them. It was important they knew these things in case of emergencies. They were useful after all.

The twins genuinely did try their best to pay attention, but it was a struggle. And by the time they were an hour and a bit into their fathers lessons, they had all but given up on trying to listen.

Revas could see this, and figured he should give the twins something to enjoy instead. He sat them down on the abnormally gigantic roots of an ancient oak tree, that spiralled and gnarled in on itself both above and below the ground, and shielded them from the hot sun with its tall branches and large leaves. After he had gotten their attention, he held up a clenched fist, and smiled.

‘’Watch this, boys.’’

The boys watched in wonder as their Father’s fist glowed green, and gasped quietly when he opened it to reveal two stark white flowers where there had been nothing before. The twins recognised them to be lilies, and Dima bounced on the spot excitedly where as Nico was still staring, though he did have a small smile on his lips.

Revas reached forward, braiding the lilies into the boys long black hair one by one. They reached up to gently feel them at the same time, before lunging forward to hug their Father.

‘’That was so cool, Baban!!!’’

‘’Thank you, Baban…’’

Revas just grinned and hugged his boys back, laughing quietly to himself at their reactions. He loved making them smile.

And with a lily, he hoped to pass on their mother’s love. For that was her name, after all…

They were a happy family despite everything. A close knit and loving family.

Though like Revas had described to the twins once before, when a beloved Clan Halla passed away, the Creators often liked to pick the most beautiful things from this earth that they belovedly created.

Revas could not help the twitching of his pointed ears as he picked up on an abnormal sound coming from the east. They were outside of Clan hunting territory, so no one should be here…

That’s when he heard it. The sound of men laughing uproariously. They were no voices the Keeper recognised, and he froze to the spot, arms tensing around his children.

Humans. Human hunters had come to these woods.

Revas knew how much danger they were in instantly, and leapt to his feet. He easily picked up the twins, one in each arm, and took off running deeper into the forest. He knew these woods well, expertly avoiding upturned routes or particularly sharp rocks, taking almost completely hidden turns, getting past the more dangerous wildlife without getting so much as a second glance.

Nico and Dima were terrified, but knew to be quiet when their Father seemed to sense danger. They had not heard the humans, therefore having no idea what was wrong.

The Shemlen had heard Revas taking off though, footfalls much too heavy in his panic to get his children to safety to attempt stealth. They assumed he was a deer, having been spooked by their loudness. Revas could hear the beating of the horses hooves getting closer, and realised even if he were to make it back to the Clan in time, he would surely doom them.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

Sliding to a stop in front of a particularly large bush, he kneeled down, and placed his children behind it. He signaled for them to be quiet, and they agreed without question, nodding their heads to show they understood.

Revas knew that what he was about to do...May not turn out how he hoped.

So he hugged them both tightly, and whilst pulling away, slipped his necklace off over his head. It was made of shedded Halla antler, with intricate Elven symbols and words carved into it. He handed it to Dima, his lips trembling despite his trying to keep everything under control. He gripped Dima’s shoulders tightly, tight enough to make him wince involuntarily, and spoke in a panicked but hushed tone to his son, who had, as well as his brother, barely seen their tenth summer.

‘’I need you to promise me, Dima...Promise that no matter what, you will protect your brother. You will protect the clan. You will grow strong, and always protect those you love. Do you understand? Be strong.’’

Dima didn’t hesitate in answering, whispering a very determined ‘’Of course I promise Baban.’’ But also; ‘’What’s wrong though? You’re coming back, right?’’

Revas let out a shuddered breath, and gave his sons the best smile he could muster.

‘’Ar lath ma, ma len. I love you both so much...Be strong.’’

Before they could even question, Revas was taking off running into the clearing not far from them. Where the twins could see what was going on...Revas forced himself to stand his ground despite his fear as the humans approached, pulling his staff from his back and gripping it tightly as they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.

One human, with pale skin and a bald head, paired with a horribly patchy beard, was the first to approach Revas. Behind him were two more humans, dressed head to toe in armour. Revas couldn’t see their faces, though he could feel their stares.

He forced himself to greet the men in perfect trade with a smile, as wary as it may look, and a short bow.

‘’Greetings, outsiders.’’

He didn’t even get a greeting back, instead, the man in front of him just snarled, looking him up and down.

‘’Lookie here, boys. A knife ear, right here. Looks like we may not need to look for their damned camp so hard after all.’’

Revas tensed, knowing instantly who these men must be. Slavers, probably for the black market in the main city of Antiva. He reached back with his free hand to scratch nervously at his ear lobe, needing something to do as he answer, even if he wasn’t exactly asked a question.

‘’I-I beg your pardon? You can’t-’’

Revas was cut off by a sharp sword pointing directly at his neck, causing him to go stock still, too afraid to even breathe.

The man growled, pressing the blade against Revas’s neck. Enough to draw blood, for the moment, and make the Elf hiss slightly in pain.

‘’Shut your mouth, knife ear. Now listen closely. We know it isn’t just you here. We saw a stuffed toy on the ground. And you were quite happy to run just a moment ago...Who are you protecting? Your knife eared kid? Kids? Oh, the Crows would pay a pretty sum for some young Elves to train up.’’

Revas felt sick to his stomach. He wasn’t about to negotiate with some slavers, just so they could go hunt some other people.

So that left him one choice.

Carefully, he took a step back, and twirled his staff in hand.

‘’I’m not telling you anything, Shemlen!’’

He inhaled, ready to shout a spell, one powerful enough to knock them down and give him

time to run with the boys-

When instead it turned into a breathless gasp of pain, and he looked down to see a sword running right through his gut.

From behind the bush, there was a whimper, the leaves rustling as Nico attempts to get up to run to his Father. He’s stopped by Dima however, who yanks him down by the back of his shirt, and straddles him to keep him from trying again. Nico tries to yell for Revas, but Dima covers his younger brothers mouth and despite the tears forming in his own eyes as Nico writhes and struggles, whispers harshly for him to quit it.

Nico doesn’t see what Dima sees. Doesn’t see as the men kick Revas down onto his back. Doesn’t witness them sneering and taunting Revas as he bleeds out, amethyst eyes formerly shining with life beginning to go dull as he stares up at the sky. His lips barely moving as he words a silent prayer to Falon’din to guide his soul to the Beyond, the Creator who’s Vallaslin he has proudly worn since seventeen years of age.

He doesn’t see as Revas’s throat is slit easily by a spear tossed to the man who had also stabbed him, then thrust through the Keepers exposed chest.

Eventually, the humans get sick of mutilating the now dead Elf’s form. The murderer declaring Revas must have left the twins at the great oak tree and had instead tried to lure them away and distract them.

They mount their horses, and ride off. As soon as their horses beating hooves can no longer be heard, Dima and Nico get up, running over to their father’s unmoving form. He couldn’t be dead. Surely he was just badly injured, would still be breathing.

But there’s blood. Too much blood for any mortal man to surely survive. His dark skin is now an ashen colour, and his eyes are glazed over and lifeless. His expression is slack, and his chest…

It certainly isn’t moving.

Dima stands staring, completely frozen. He can’t tear his eyes off of their Fathers, their Babans, corpse. Nico however, collapses to his knees.

And he screams. A scream so heart wrenching it scares off any animals in the immediate vicinity. A scream filled with such unimaginable grief and fear and anger that it doesn’t sound human at all.

Dima can only drop down beside him, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he reaches for Revas’s hand. Earlier it was warm, warm as Dima clung to it, warm as he pulled his Father behind him and swung and laughed and...Warm as Dima thought about how much he trusted that warmth to always be there...But now it was cold, and Dima could feel the remnants of Revas’s body heat slowly fading away.

‘’Papa…’’

He could barely mutter it. Beside him, Nico had begun to sob, clothing beginning to turn red with their Father’s blood soaking into it. He rested his head on Revas’s chest, hair mostly obscuring his face from his elder twins view.

And from his hair fell the lily Revas had left in it just twenty minutes ago. It landed in the puddle of blood just beside Revas’s body, and Dima could have sworn he heard his Father whispering the word- No. The name, Lily, in the small breeze that blew past them all.

Dima could only pull Nico to him, trying to find some comfort in his brothers still warm body despite the chilling aura that had settled in the area.

They only had each other now, meaning Dima was determined more than ever before now to keep his promise to their Father.

He would protect Nico with his life.

[sweetness47]

What if it’s Love?

Pairing Misha x reader

This is for the #AU Hit List Challenge hosted by @luci-in-trenchcoats

Alternate Universe: Royalty

Warnings: language, maybe smut, some violence, fluff, etc…18+ only

Summary: Your parents wish to form an alliance with a neighbouring kingdom. You’re the bargaining chip. What could possibly go wrong?

I looked out my bedroom window, watching the wind grazing the forest trees, their branches gently swaying in the breeze. Beyond the deep valley and the Dark Winter mountains lay what would soon be my new home, and I hated every inch of that idea. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong, but I seemed to be the only one that saw this. My twin brother did share some of my concerns, but he thought this alliance would bring good for our people. Jared was already wed but even if he wasn’t, the neighboring kingdom’s royal family only had a son. So I was to be the one, the wife of the prince of the kingdom that once declared war on us. My parents wanted peace so bad they were willing to sacrifice my happiness for their political gain. I shouldn’t feel so disheartened, but that bad feeling never left, right from the first day this betrothal was announced. Yes, Prince Jensen was handsome, I’d met him before, and he seemed pleasant enough, but something was off, I just couldn’t place what it was.

Jared put his hand on my shoulder. “It could be worse Y/N. He could be exceptionally ugly.” He was trying to make me feel better. I smiled and gave him a hug, which he happily returned. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right Jared, but this feeling just won’t quit. I’ve tried imagining me with Prince Jensen, and for as good looking as he is, there is something going on that threatens this whole thing. I just can’t place it, nor do I have any evidence that such a plot exists.”

He placed a chaste kiss upon my forehead and rested his chin on top of my head. “Honestly, I hope your wrong Y/N, but I will keep my eyes and ears open. I know your feelings sometimes are more than just feelings. Don’t worry. I’ll stand by you always.” His tall frame enveloped me again, and I felt safe, and wished this whole marriage didn’t have to happen.

With the comfort of knowing Jared had my back, I put the last of my belongings into my trunk and had the servants, under Jared’s watchful eye, bring the luggage down to the waiting carriage. I was to be escorted by the captain of the guard, a few of his finest officers, and my lady servant, who was like a sister to me. We’d grown up together, and while we both knew our roles, we remained close. Y/F/N was to move with me, so I wouldn’t be alone in my new life. We climbed into the waiting carriage, and she held my hand as I watched my home fade away into the distance.

Our first day of travel was slightly bumpy but otherwise uneventful. Captain Gabriel was a strong leader, and our first camp was set up efficiently and quickly. After a satisfying meal of cheese, bread and wine, we set to retire, the guards would take turns keeping watch so Y/F/N and I would have nothing to worry about.

Day two started out just as smooth. We broke our fast and packed up our supplies, my servant and I offered to help with the clean up and packing, much to the protests of the guards. But I stated that we were all travelling together, therefore we would all help with things. Unknown to my parents, I had learned cooking skills from our chef, and taken swordsmanship training with my brother. I could carry my weight. I had my things packed and ready to go before the camp was even torn down.

Once on the road, I settled back into the cushioned seat, leaning my head on Y/F/N’s shoulder. Travelling always made me tired, so I liked to rest my eyes. About an hour or so after I’d fallen asleep, the carriage came to a sudden stop, and there was sounds of metal clashing and men yelling. My eyes widened in alarm as I turned toward my servant, her face full of fear, confirming what I suspected. We were being set upon by bandits. That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach returned, and I reached under my seat for the hidden sword, put there by my brother just in case it was needed. Just then the door flew open and a masked robber tried to pull Y/F/N from the carriage, but I thrust my sword into his chest, something he wasn’t expecting. He fell backward knocking down another bandit. Two down, possibly more to go.

I peered cautiously around the outside of the door, and saw no one right away, so I motioned for my maid to stay inside while I looked for other intruders. As I rounded the corner to the front, I came across the driver, who had been brutally stabbed and beaten. I looked around, seeing two more guards down. Becoming frantic, I began searching for Captain Gabriel, praying that he was alright. He was like an uncle to me, and I couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. Suddenly I felt the point of a sword at my back, and a hand grabbed my arm, swinging me around. Another masked bandit, this one taller and bulkier, held me at a disadvantage, motioning for me to drop my sword, as he pointed to his friend, who had my maid at knife point, the blade aimed at her neck.

I complied, and that’s also when I noticed a third bandit, who held a wounded captain, and my jewels. Sighing, I raised my hands in a surrender, and put on my best façade. “Do you have any idea whom you have chosen to rob? You bastards have picked the wrong carriage. When my family finds out what happened, they will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

An evil grin appeared under the leader’s mask. “Oh, we know exactly who you are Princess Y/N. We have very special plans for you.” I shivered.

Just then, an arrow whooshed by my head, and right into the throat of the bandit holding my servant. Then another not 10 seconds later slammed into the leader’s chest, right where his black heart sat. He released my arm, crumpling to the ground, the light fading from his eyes. The third bandit didn’t wait for another arrow, high-tailing it out of the area and into the dense woods. Captain Gabriel sank to the ground, too weak from blood loss to do anything else. I ran over to him, oblivious to the idea that there was some unknown figure out there who had just shot these robbers dead, and that we could be next. I tore strips of cloth off my dress to bind his wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. After I had wrapped the larger gashes, I stood, and realized there was another person there. I turned, preparing for the worst, but instead was met with a bottle of water, and a cloth to wipe dirt from my face.

Large gentle hands were holding the items out, no weapons anywhere, and no mask. His eyes showed nothing but concern and worry. “Are you alright Princess?” his voice was like honey and I was instantly drawn to it.

“I’m fine sir.” I gestured toward the bandits. “I assume I have you to thank for this?” he nodded. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”

He smiled and my knees went weak. “It was my pleasure. I am a loyalist to the crown. My name is Dmitri, but my friends call me Misha.”

“Well, it’s most fortunate you happened by Sir Misha.”

He shook his head. “It’s just Misha. I’m not titled.”

I blushed. “Forgive me, I just assumed.”

“Nothing to forgive. Were you travelling to North Amnesty? I overheard whispers amongst the people in your kingdom, you’re to marry the prince there and become their next queen.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes. Unfortunately though, I now have no way to get there.” I gestured toward the carriage. “My driver is dead, the horses were cut loose and have run off, and just in case that wasn’t enough bad luck, the wheels on the carriage were broken during the fighting.” I sighed.

“I can escort you and your maid to North Amnesty.” Misha gestured toward his horse. “I ride these roads regularly. I deliver goods back and forth across the border.” I looked and his horse is attached to a small but sturdy cart, big enough for our luggage, and room for Captain Gabriel to lay down.

I bit my lower lip. “I can pay you for your trouble. I will also help with camp and cooking. It’s the least I can do.”

Misha moved to his cart, discarding the few tradable goods for luggage and my captain. With my lady’s help, we got the cart loaded and set off. The only things our rescuer left in the cart were food supplies and blankets for sleeping. I was moved at the way he made my captain comfortable for the trip, like he was kin, even giving him water and some bread. Then he placed blankets on the seats so my maid and I wouldn’t be sitting right on the wood, making sure we were comfortable as well before travelling.

It was a pretty quiet ride, which I was very grateful for, the events of the morning still running through my head. We didn’t tell many people our travel plans, save the king, queen and of course Prince Dean, and of course my family, so I wondered how the bandits knew where I was. It surprised me that the leader of the gang knew exactly who I was. It wasn’t that I’d never been in the villages, but I usually dressed differently for those visits. Here I was dressed nice, but my travel garments weren’t royal garments, they were intentionally made to disguise who I was. That had my nerves on edge, especially since our journey was far from over. I glanced over at Y/F/N, her expression solemn, and I wondered what had her so grim. She was almost never unhappy, but I suppose the robbery this morning and all the blood had her out of sorts.

We set camp for the night some time later, the sun almost set and the night air carrying a chill that went straight to my bones. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders, trying to stay warm. Misha had a roaring fire going soon after we settled down, and we ate some rabbit with bread and some mead. I don’t always approve of meals involving wild game, but Misha was very discreet when cleaning it and preparing it for cooking, and the way he flavored it was delicious. I actually had two helpings, mentally scolding myself but I couldn’t resist the succulent meat. I noticed him watching me eat, and my cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, so I looked down at the fire, unable to keep the eye contact. I also made sure Gabriel’s wounds were cleaned and freshly dressed, then I made sure he ate. Misha took Gabriel to relieve himself, for which I was thankful, it would have been very awkward.

Y/F/N retired early, and soon Gabriel was sleeping as well. I couldn’t sleep right away, so I sat by the fire. Misha sat with me, whittling on a stick, seemingly unaffected by the cool night winds. His dark hair moved with the breeze almost hypnotically, as if it was alive. His blue eyes sparkled with the glow from the flames, they were mesmerizing. He caught me staring this time, and my cheeks once again darkened. I got up to take a walk, not noticing he followed me until he came to stand beside me. I shivered, but not from the cold this time. His very presence invaded my senses.

His voice broke the silence. “You’re intoxicating Princess. I can’t keep myself away from you.” These words came right before he pulled me into his arms, where he claimed my lips with his own. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was uncertain of what my reaction would be, then he went further, deepening the claim, his tongue parting my lips, seeking out my own. I should have stopped him, but I couldn’t, I wanted the kiss, and worse, I wanted Misha. Suddenly I didn’t want to marry Prince Dean, I wanted to take this man as my husband, I wanted to feel his skin next to mine, to have Misha make love to me, claim my innocence.

I pulled away then, and turned to walk to my tent. Misha’s voice stopped me. “Forgive me your Highness. I was out of line.” I turned to see him bow and walked back over to him, raising him to standing.

“Misha, you have nothing to apologize for. I could have stopped you but I didn’t. I am just as much to blame in this.” He looked into my eyes. “I enjoyed the kiss, don’t think for a second I didn’t.” and with that said, I turned in for the night, leaving a bewildered gentleman staring after me.

I couldn’t sleep. Every thought going through my mind was the kiss, his soft lips, the gentle way he held me. I had fallen in love with Misha, after spending just one day in his company. When the sun rose, I was already up, packing what I could of the camp and preparing breakfast. I had already checked on Captain Gabriel and changed his dressings, and filled water pouches for the day ahead. Misha woke to fresh cheese and bread, as well as some wine and grapes. He was pleasantly surprised, smiling as he accepted the plate of food from me. My knees almost gave way when he did smile, and my stomach felt like it had butterflies inside. The rest of this journey was going to be very difficult for both myself and for Misha, if last night was any indication.

We made excellent travel time, without incident, and it meant that tomorrow I would be meeting my future husband for the first time. I had mixed feelings, mostly because of Misha. We spent the entire ride today, talking and laughing about everything and anything, like old friends. Every time we stopped to relieve ourselves or get fresh water, he was always by my side, and I was enjoying his attentions. I still had the feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong, that somewhere, someone was trying to get to me, to stop me from getting to North Amnesty, to thwart the pending alliance. I sighed, keeping up my façade of lightheartedness and joy, while inwardly cringing every time a branch broke in the woods.

It wasn’t until we had set up camp that evening that my uneasiness was noticed by Misha. He’d been setting up my tent, and I had been helping him. A rabbit ran across the path to the river, and I jumped, more than I should have. Misha was instantly there, catching me as I lost my balance and nearly fell into a nest of thorns.

“Are you alright Princess? You seem uneasy.” Concern masked his handsome features.

I pursed my lips together and frowned. “Actually Misha, I’m not ok. Ever since this journey began I’ve had the most awful feeling, like something was wrong, but I as yet haven’t pinpointed the cause. My feelings are usually right in one way or another. But as for a cause…well…I don’t have one. But I’m positive it has something to do with my impending marriage to Prince Dean.”

Misha creased his brow, running my words through his mind. “Do you mind how long you have had this feeling?”

I shrugged. “Honestly? Since this betrothal was first made. Nearly six months. And even after making numerous discreet inquiries, in all sides and directions, I’m still no closer to learning why the feeling is still bothering me.”

Silence hangs in the air for what seems an eternity. It’s not until we are bent down at the stream that he speaks again, his voice low so only I can hear. “Your Highness, there’s something I remember hearing in a tavern a few nights back. In Majority, one of your villages, I was trading goods there, and stopped for a drink and a meal. As I ate, I overheard bits and pieces of a conversation taking place behind me, about this very journey, the times, and the road being used. The woman included the details of the plain carriage, the low-dressed guards, and the plainly dressed passengers.” He paused, watching for my reaction. I visibly paled as he continued. “The bandits, the whole robbery, was all planned to keep you from arriving at North Amnesty.”

I knelt there in the dirt, my mind working desperately to process what I’d just heard. My hands shook and water spilled from the jugs. Misha took the water containers gently from me, and held my hands, his warmth bringing me back to reality. He cupped my face and brung my eyes to meet his. “Y/N, I will never let anything happen to you, not as long as I draw breath. You can trust me.”

My heart felt reassured at his promise. I knew he told the truth, but I was still weary of everything around me. I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his fingers threading through my hair. Before I knew it, I was kissing him, pressing my body against his, needing to distract myself. Misha emitted a low growl as he took charge of the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, claiming it. As his lips assaulted mine, he lay me down in the grass with him, and I was dimly aware of his hand as it hiked up my skirts. I inhaled a sharp quick breath when his hand found my center, already wet, wanting, needing what he had.

He stopped. “If you don’t want this, we can stop. I won’t force you.”

My rational side screamed at me to listen to reason. But my heart and my mind needed to be rebellious. “Misha, I don’t want to stop. I-I…” my words left me as he once again captured my lips, and his hand found my wet heat. His finger rubbed lightly against my clit, and he inserted a finger slowly into my slick, giving me time to adjust to this invasion, then he inserted another. My mind went ballistic when he started moving them, pulling out, then sliding back in, I came undone, experiencing my first orgasm under his skillful ministrations. Then it wasn’t his fingers, his large erection was there, seeking entrance to my warmth. His mouth covered my cries as he slowly slid his manhood inside, giving me time to stretch, adjust. The pleasure began the moment he began, his thrusts slow and tantalizing, pushing the very limits of my sanity. I exploded in waves of bliss, my second orgasm more intense than the first.

Misha’s mouth covered the majority of my screams, which was probably good. His speed increased, fueled by his own need for release, and the passion that had been ignited by my responses. His feral moans spurred my own body into another earth-shattering ripple, and that initiated his own release, his hot seed pumping inside me, filling me. Both of us lay there for a few minutes, panting, watching each other for signs of regret, but finding only desire. “I love you.” We both whispered at the same time. He helped me up, and we quickly washed up, dusting off our clothing, and making our way back to camp. Neither of us spoke about what had happened, and I wondered what he was thinking, but we didn’t have opportunity to find out.

We returned to the camp in shambles, Gabriel was unconscious, and Y/F/N was no where to be found. My trousseau and jewels were gone, as was my letter of introduction. Misha and I looked at each other and I made a beeline for my captain. He was breathing thankfully but his wound had been re-opened and he’d lost a lot of blood again. With Misha’s help, we got his wounds cleaned and bandaged up, and then we waited for him to awaken so he could tell us what had transpired. Misha went to inspect his cart, which had suffered a broken wheel, and the horse had been cut loose. My heart went out to him, here he had tried to help us, and now he was suffering loss.

I walked over to him, entwining my fingers through his. He accepted the gesture and brung my hand to his lips. “I’m sorry about your cart Misha. My parents will replace your horse and cart. This is my fault.” I whispered.

He turned to me. “Don’t ever blame yourself Y/N. This is not your fault. You are being targeted. I am not angry with you.”

“I know, but if you hadn’t…”

He put his hand up and stopped me right there. “I offered to escort you to North Amnesty. You cannot blame yourself.” I nodded and he hugged me, resting his chin on my head.

A groan had us both looking toward Gabriel, who was coming around. We both rushed over, helping him sit up, offering him some water to drink.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We were betrayed Princess. The first robbery was supposed to stop us all together from our destination. When that failed, we were set upon here.” Gabriel grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him. “It was Y/F/N. She is the one who orchestrated this whole thing. She and some men from North Amnesty ransacked the camp, and I was too weak to stop them. I’m sorry Your Highness.”

I shook my head. “I am not angry at you Gabriel. You are still recovering from the first attack. You didn’t fail me, so please don’t think you did.”

Misha was kneeling behind me, listening to the story “Did you see which way they took off Captain?”

Gabriel nodded. “They rode for our destination. Y/F/N plans to impersonate you and marry the Prince, with whom she’s been having relations with for some time now apparently. Since neither the king nor queen have ever seen your face, it was her chance to marry and become royalty.” He grimaced as he tried to stand, and Misha helped him up. “I overheard them discussing their plans.”

Misha raised a brow. “The woman’s voice I overheard at the tavern. That must have been your maid.” He paused. “This whole plot also implicates Prince Dean though.”

“He was part of the original band of robbers. And he was also here helping Y/F/N take all your belongings.” Captain Gabriel looked upset, like he’d failed again. I placed a hand on his shoulder, to console him, and he nodded, straightening up as best he could.

Misha made a loud shrill, echoing through the leaves, and from a clearing came his horse. I smiled, as he gestured to his filly. “She hardly leaves my side, and never more than a few yards. She hid and waited for me to call her out.” Then he took a serious note. “We need to high tail it back to your family Y/N. This whole plan needs to be exposed and dealt with.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. “But there are three of us, and only one horse. Someone has to stay behind.”

Misha stood, ready to stay, when Gabriel held up his hand to stop him. “I will stay. There’s no way my injuries will survive a hard ride like that.” He turned to Misha. “Sir, you have been loyal and faithful to us since you came to our aid yesterday. I place Y/N’s life in your hands. Get her safely home.”

I looked over at Misha, who turned to me, nodding. I gave Gabriel a chaste kiss on the cheek and bid him farewell, then Misha helped me onto his horse and climbed up behind me. We rode through the night, and into the next day, arriving at my home just before sunset. I was greeted at the gate by a very surprised Jared, who walked with us to the door, eager to hear what had happened. Misha and I entered the throne room, and paid reverence to my parents. I glanced at Misha’s greet, his mannerisms reminding me of my own.

Upon hearing of our adventures, my father stood up and came down to where we stood, hugging me first, then offering Misha his hand. “I’m happy you’re safe Y/N.” then he said to Misha. “Sir you have my eternal gratitude for your services in keeping my daughter safe. We will indeed replace your cart, and pay you for your troubles.”

Misha shook his head. “With all due respect Your Majesty, the only reward that matters is seeing Y/N safe. Everything else is trivial in comparison.”

Jared piped in then, a smile gracing his features. “You are in love with her.”

I confirmed that statement with my own. “I love him as well.” I turned to face my father and my mother. “I know that this sort of thing is usually frowned upon, but I am in love with this man. I would like your blessing to take him as my husband. He has been nothing but good to me and to Captain Gabriel since the first attack.”

It was my mother who came down to stand beside my father, but not before giving me a hug. “Y/N, your happiness matters to us. And Misha has proven himself worthy, more than Prince Dean, dare I say. I cannot speak for your father, but I wholeheartedly approve of you taking this gentleman to wed.”

My father sighed and took my hand in his. “Your mother speaks the truth. Your happiness means the world to us. If having this man as your husband makes you happy, then so be it.” He turned to a very shocked Misha. “That is, if he will have you.”

I turned to Misha, and took his hands into mine. “Marry me Misha, make me the luckiest woman in the realm.”

He cupped my face in his hands. “Yes Y/N. I will marry you.” He kissed me before turning to my parents, bowing low. “Thank you Your Majesties. I’m honored to become part of your family.” Jared let out a Whoop and spun me around excitedly. Then he shook Misha’s hand as well before giving him a brotherly hug and thanking him for helping me.

Men were sent to retrieve Captain Gabriel, and soldiers were sent to North Amnesty to arrest Y/F/N and charge her and Prince Dean with treason and attempted murder. I wed Misha and we are now expecting our first child, beating my brother and his wife of six months. And I couldn’t be happier.

@legion1993 @luci-in-trenchcoats

[exile-wrath]

kingsman au with yurio's terrible horrible no good very bad crush on his mentor's crush thanq u based wrath for saving my crops :3c

1) Here’s the weird thing. You would think that of all people to end up thinking about as Yuri settles down to sleep, it would Victor, who had saved him from a sticky situation and then proposed him to this… initiation test for a secret spy agency. But no, it’s not Victor that’s on his mind, it’s fucking Tristan. 

Tristan, who caught him robbing his house. Tristan, who threw him out a bloody window. Tristan, who somehow looked filthy good leaning over his balcony waving at Yuri as he fell into the bushes below, softly back-lit by his bedroom lights. 

He fidgets on his bed, unable to rest, too wired from the day’s events. Thoughts of the beating he had narrowly escaped, Dmitry holding a cleaver to his face, Victor saving him from the police station, Tristan beating Dmitry’s thugs effortlessly all whirl around his head. 

Last night he’d broken into Tristan’s house in Stanhope’s Mews and gotten arrested by the police, and tonight he was sleeping in Kingsman’s recruit barracks….

and being submerged with water. 

Yuri jolts up in alarm, screeching at the rest to wake the fuck up, because the room was flooding. 

2) Here’s another weird thing: Victor was clearly over the moon for Tristan, but not once had Yuri ever heard him use the agent’s actual name. Did he just… not know it? (Part of Yuri thinks that Tristan might actually be the guy’s name, but he wouldn’t bet on it) There was that incident in the pub which Victor had called Tristan solnyshko, but that was just an endearment. 

“Does he know?” Yuri asks Victor one day while his mentor guides him through how to talk like a gentleman.

Victor pauses, looking at Yuri in confusion. “Does who know what?” he asks in return. “If you mean Merlin, yes, he knows everything.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes. “No, I meant Tristan and the fact that you’re tits over arse in love with him,” he says bluntly.

Victor blinks once, twice. “Pardon?” 

“It’s completely obvious!” Yuri exclaims. “Whenever you pass him in the corridor you give him this stupid little wave like a secondary girl mooning over a boy she wants to ask to go out with her.”

A multitude of emotions flicker over Victor’s expression, going too fast for Yuri to figure out what the man was thinking. He smiles wryly. “I do love Tristan,” he says as matter-of-factly as one would say the sky is blue. “And as for whether Tristan knows or not, well, why are you so curious?” 

Yuri crosses his arms and taps his foot. Victor gives him a stern look and he straightens his posture, stilling his feet. “Because you’re making a fool of yourself,” Yuri retorts. 

“My feelings are none of your concern,” Victor says. “Concern yourself with catching up to your fellow recruits instead. They’ve had their whole lives to learn the manners and etiquette I have to teach you, after all.” The deflection is obvious, and Yuri grumbles at it, but he lets it slide.

For some reason, the idea that his mentor’s feelings for Tristan might be unrequited makes him feel light.

3) It’s after Victor’s death, after Valentine’s mad plan and his death, afterdealing with a bunker full of rish people that had been happy to let the world burn, that Yuri collapses next to Tristan- no, Yuuri on a bed in the Kingsman jet. 

“You did well,” Yuuri murmurs, and Yuri tries not to shudder at how close Yuri’s breath was to his ear. Suddenly, he vaguely regrets not taking that Kazakh celebrity up on his offer of celebratory sex for preventing the apocalypse. 

They’re so close right now, smushed into the covers of the comfortable bed. From this angle, Yuri can count Yuuri’s long eyelashes, smell his cologne, see exactly the way the light touches Yuuri’s lips. It’s almost maddening. 

It’s also saddening, because this close, he can see the grief too, Yuuri’s walls slowly inching down as he comes down from the adrenaline high. His breathing is heavy and there’s a cut on his cheek from Gazelle’s prosthetics, weariness emitting from every pore. 

Yet, somehow some traitorous part of Yuri is glad to see him like this. During all their other interactions, Yuuri had been Tristan, an untouchable aloof agent with a sly snarking sense of humour and terrifying fighting capabilities. And then he had become Yuuri Katsuki, Victor’s fiance (and thus even more untouchable to Yuri). Now, he’s just Yuuri, and they’ve saved the world together. 

And he’s lost the love of his life. 

Abruptly, Yuri can’t help but hate himself for the flush on his cheeks that are from proximity to the older man rather than the adrenaline of the fight they survived.  Victor is god, for heaven’s sake — Victor, who had given Yuri a chance to make himself a better person — and he feels like an utter heel for even harboring a crush on his dead mentor’s fiance in this moment. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Yuri manages to croak in return. God, he needs something to drink.

Yuuri smiles sadly, soflty. “Victor would be proud of you, Yuri,” he murmurs.

“Are you proud of me?” Yuri blurts out and then immediately wishes he could take the words back.

Yuuri blinks at him in surprise for a moment. “Of course I am,” he says, and he cracks a smile. “We just saved the world, after all!” 

Yuri smiles back. But you lost your world, he thinks mournfully. And I’ve lost my heart to you. He finds it hard to believe that his mentor would be proud of him in this moment, savior of the world or not. After all, even though he knows Yuuri is in mourning right now, his heart still beats for him

[spideyxchelle]

love is universal. it spans time and distance. and sometimes, on the rare occasion that love doesn’t quite get it right the first, love spans for more than one lifetime. this is that story.

in this life they are called Lola and Dmitry. in their last they are called Peter and MJ.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Lola walked through the encampment as the crisp, late-fall air nipped at her cheeks. Her band of Romani brethren wandered through many eastern countries but none as beautiful as Russia and every winter they found refuge there between the trees. It was her favorite country to make camp, the world seemed old and ancient in those forests. 

A gust of wind blew her war and Lola tugged her heavy jacket around her body, crunching through the fallen leaves to where the children danced around the fire. The heat rushed to her as she got closer and Lola smiled at the little girl singing an old, Romani tune to the crowd of smiling adults. 

Lola lifted her skirts just above her ankle and began to dance to the song. The little girl, Anita, caught her eye and sang louder. 

They danced and sang and drank for hours, the moonlight casting a funny shadow on the camp until one by one, the Romani troupe padded back to their tents full of wine and good cheer. 

Spotting Anita curled up sleepily near the fire, Lola called out, “My little dove!” Anita’s eyes flickered open, “Off to bed with you.” 

Anita groused but did as Lola bid and, after, Lola was alone at the fire. She found sleeping fitful at best most nights. Nightmares haunted her dreams. Horrible, terrible dreams of boys with stars in their eyes and blood on their hands. 

Lola drew her knees into her chest and began to sang an old folk song under her breath, one that she had heard her mother coo into her ear in the throws of childhood. She lifted her chin up to the sky, as if to bathe in the moonlight, and continued to sing. 

And then, she heard the snap of a branch. 

Lola sprang to her feet, her hand reaching for the hidden curved knife hidden in the folds of her skirt. In stilted Russian, she barked into the trees, “Show yourself.”

A man, no older than twenty, propelled himself from between the trees into the warm glow of the firelight. The firelight flickered on his uniform. Russian. She could have spat. For such a beautiful country, their soldiers were no better than brutes. Agents of an evil tsar and slaves to an even crueler country. 

She did not try to hide the disgust and hate welling in her eyes. 

He did not look at her like the enemy. No. He gawked at her.

He seemed stunned, which she counted her blessings for, he would be easier to overcome if he was not expecting her to attack. She drew her knife into the open and parted her legs into a strong, opening stance. Artem had once shown her how to fight. Quick and viscous, he had said. Lola could be both of those things. 

Only when she drew her knife did he stop staring at her like he had been clubbed in the head. He glanced down at her knife and back up to her face and then-

He doubled over in laughter. 

She startled and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?” she growled, “Do you think I don’t know how to use it?”

He wiped uselessly at his eyes. “No,” he shook his head. His Russian was much cleaner than hers, “I, just, never thought it would ever be you.” 

Lola blanched, “What does that even mean?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled, and stood at his full stature, which admittedly was not that tall, and pressed on, “Are you going to kill me, then?”

She twirled the knife in her hand in a frighteningly practiced manner, “Perhaps.”

“Alright,” the boy sniffed, “Get on with it, then.” 

Lola barred her teeth, more animal than girl, “I’ll do it, you know.” 

He nodded, “Oh believe me. I don’t doubt it.” He opened his arms like he was inviting her to stab him in the heart, which made her heart flicker with doubt. He was so assured, so certain that she was going to strike, it had to be a trap. She was no fool. The people in her camp did not survive in the wilderness by getting tricked by traps.

So, she slowly lowered her knife. She was not going to attack him. For him to be so calm he had to be some miraculous military man, one she could not take in hand-to-hand combat.

He raised his eyebrow, surprised, “Oh. So, you’ve decided you aren’t going to kill me?”

“The verdict is still out on that.” As if to prove it, she did not put her knife away. He noticed. And she smirked. 

“My unit,” he gestured behind him into the trees, “They’re camped not far from here. I came out to here relieve myself. If I can find you...so can they. You should pack up your camp and leave.”

She squinted, “Why would you help us?” 

He looked like he was going to say something, but he instead settled on, “I’m not in the business of killing pretty girls.” He teased, “Even ones that want to kill me.” 

Lola tightened her grip on her knife, “What’s your name, soldier?”

The boy’s face spread in a strange, delighted grin. Lola felt the back of her neck prickle and she considered throwing her knife at his neck to end this conversation once and for all. She stayed her hand. The Russian licked his lips, “You want to know my name?”

“I asked,” she scoffed, “didn’t I?”

He stuffed his hands in his state issued uniform and smiled broader. He had a nice smile. “Dmitry,” he said clearly, like he wanted her to really listen and absorb it. Like he considered this moment of paramount importance. “My name is Dmitry. And yours?”

Lola glanced beyond the trees to see if any of his comrades had joined him for an afternoon bathroom break, but there were none there. She knew she was wasting time talking to him. She knew that she should be burying her knife in his chest and warning her people that a Russian legion was nearby. But she found herself trapped in a conversation with this boy, this Dmitry. And worse still, she did not want to stop taking to him. 

“Lola,” she gruffly said, “My name is Lola.” 

“I like your name,” he said pleasantly. Like this was a conversation they were having over soup at a campfire, not in the darkness with her knife drawn and his entire unit sleeping somewhere nearby. She had never interacted with a Russian soldier before but, somehow, she knew that this was not a typical interaction. Dmitry was strange. Stranger than any man she had ever met. He had taken one look at her knife and laughed. Perhaps, she thought, he was crazy. “Do you know what it means?” he asked. 

She held tight to the hilt of her knife like it gave her some sort of mystical power. Tightly, she replied, “Sorrow.” 

“Ah,” he mused, “Yes, well, that’s fitting.”

“Are you calling me sorrowful, soldier?” she snapped.

His features softened into displaced fondness, “I hardly know you well enough to say.” It felt like an inside joke, his words, and Lola growled. She had known Dmitry for all of five minutes and he was acting as if they were old friends that he had happened to come upon in the forest. She loathed him. 

“Fine, then,” she prodded, “what does yours mean?” 

“It has a couple of meanings,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her. She took the same amount of room back away from him. Lola wanted to keep her distance. This strange man was her enemy, no matter how congenial he was pretending to be. “Of the earth,” he put his hands up as if to calm a nervous animal and stepped forward, “like....death. I am born and return to earth. Morbid, isn’t it?”

Lola remained, against her better judgement, standing by the fire, transfixed by each step he took toward her. The closer he got the more interesting her became. His nose had obviously been broken a few times as it was crooked and bent in two places. Yet, somehow, it made him look even more goofy and dignified. He was handsome. She was ashamed to realize that was what was so intriguing about his features: he was handsome and she noticed. 

“Are you the bringer of death?” Lola whispered, the crackle of the fire louder than her voice.

His lips quirked upwards, “No, not me.” She heard the unspoken words, the insinuation that she was the one who brought death. 

Lola’s face lit up in fury, “Go now and I’ll let you live.” He pressed a presumptuous hand on her waist and her mouth dropped open in shock. He looked so thrilled by his audacity and her reaction. She could have stabbed him. Really, the knife was still sitting in the palm of her hand. “How dare you,” she hissed.

“I like this dress,” he ignored her outrage. “This life suits you.” 

“Is that a remark on me being Romani, soldier?”

He sighs like she’s missed some key ingredient, like he almost expected her to, “No. Nothing. Ignore me.”

She knocked his hand off of her waist and spat in his face, “I’m trying.” 

He wiped away her spit but did not look at all bothered by her response. Again, only amusement. It was dripping off of him in irritating waves that were smacking her in the face with every passing second. Nothing she did seem to affect him or even alarm him.

“Okay,” he rumbled, “I’m going.” True to his word, Dmitry began to back away from her and suddenly Lola could breathe. Like he had snatched the air from her lungs when he was so close and now she could taste the sweetness of breath. She took a faulty step toward him and stopped herself, had to force her feet to stall. He was yanking her into his orbit and she was not one to be taken by a pretty face, much less a Russian one. 

He adopted a serious soldier persona for only a moment, “Pack your things and run.” And then, as strangely as he had arrived, he was gone. 

She took a heavy breath to compose herself before she headed his advice and ran to the tents, waking up every man, woman and child at the camp. Bleary eyed children clung to their parents and the leaders of the camp discussed their best course of action. 

Some argued for them to stay and fight, others wanted to run and find safety and shelter where they could. She knew the blood of her people did not take well to cowardess, but the Russian army was better supplied then they were and her people had children with them.

It was because of the children they finally ran. In waves they left to not draw attention to themselves and Lola stayed behind to leave with the final group to make sure that everyone was safe. 

This was the lie she told herself to avoid facing the fact that she would not have minded seeing Dmitry again. In the nights following his strange arrival, she slept without nightmares; in fact, she dreamed. Dizzy dreams of kisses and heroes unlike any she had ever seen before. She dreamed that Dmitry could fly. He swung between buildings built like mountains and called her Em. 

She saw him so often in her dreams that when he came wandering back into camp she half-expected him to be a phantom of her dreams. Until he smiled at her and weakly waved, “Hi.” 

Lola was so startled her hand flew out and collided with his face. His already crooked nose broke and began to gush buckets of blood. Her people left at the camp gawked at the sight. And Dmitry cursed in a language she barely had enough control over to speak complete sentences. She did manage to piece out his lamenting, “That’s the second time you’ve done that.” 

She has a strange rush, almost a memory, of a tiny house and a boy bleeding into a rag. Marcus. War. Egypt. But as soon as she can hold onto the memory long enough to make it semi-tangeable it was gone. 

She did not apologize for her attack, instead she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

He clutched his nose to help contain the bleeding and looked up at her in exasperation, “I wanted to see if you were alright.” He tacked on, “If I had known you were going to hit me I might have reconsidered.” 

Lola could feel all of the eyes on her, the curious, probing questions that were beginning to take form in the camp, and so she rushed him into the nearest tent. Her own. 

Inside, she tossed a rag at him and he quickly staunched the bleeding. She huffed, yanked him down into a seated position on her furs, and tipped his head back to help stop the flow of blood. “Keep your head back, or else you’ll get blood everywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t,” he moaned, “have gotten blood on everything if you hadn’t punched me.” 

“You shouldn’t have come back and startled me.” 

“I don’t punch people when they surprise me!” 

She raised her voice, “Be grateful I didn’t break your neck!” 

Another voice, a younger one, shrieks: 

You stupid, bullheaded-

He laughed, or she assumed it was a laugh, but with the injury it sounded more like a muffled gargle, “Sorry.” 

Her entire body language deflated and she found herself quipping, “Why’d you even come back here?” 

Dmitry‘s eyes turned on her, golden and wholesome, “I had to see you.” 

“You don’t know me,” she argued. 

His words were loaded, “Doesn’t matter. I had to see you.”

“What?” her voice was higher and more nervous than she would have liked, “Because I’m some silly Romani girl you think you can toss a few nice words at me and I’ll drag you into bed? Because that’s not how this goes.” 

Dmitry rolled his eyes. She knew that it sounded like she was fighting with him just to fight, but she could not help it. He made her nervous and more nervous than just because of his rank in the Russian army. He made the girly, secret parts of her nervous. The parts that she swore she would never let fall prey to a winning smile or a flirty comment. 

“That’s not what I’m expecting.” 

Her face fell, “So, what? I’m not good enough for a good and loyal Russian?”

“Are you to argue with me on every point just for argument’s sake?”

She had no good answer for him, so she opted to sit in silence as he took care of his nose. The next hour they sat in icy silence as he waited for the bleeding to stop. Every once in a while, their shoulders would brush and linger and neither of them stopped the other from this simple pleasure. She did not have to talk to him to share in his warmth or delight at the delicious surge of electricity his touch awoke in her. 

Growing bold, his hand eventually reached across for hers. She snarled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re being very difficult in this life, you know that?” She gawked at him before he answered in a way that made actual sense, “I’m trying to hold your hand.” 

“And why do you think I wanted you to hold my hand?” she challenged.

His face flushed in deeply rooted embarrassment. He snatched his hand away like he had been burned and stuttered, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just...assumed.”

She would never know why she did it. Later, she would blame his adorable broken nose and the endearing way he had started to apologize. But, in truth, she did it mostly because she wanted to and Lola did not deny herself the things that she wanted. She was only going to live one life and so she did not understand the point of denying her heart what it desired.

Lola hoisted her leg over Dmitry’s lap, effectively straddling him, and he blinked up at her in terror and the edge of something else. He looked at her the way she had seen lovers over the years look. Her mother had called this look a word once and she had never seen it up close before. She had never been gazed at. 

Dmitry‘s chest rose and fell in a shallow pattern and Lola smirked. He was practically shaking beneath her fingertips. She traced the ends of her fingers along the bridge of his broken nose and he closed his eyes in pain. “Don’t,” he mumbled, “We shouldn’t.” 

Then, strangely, his eyes snapped open. Like the very words that came out of his mouth surprise him. Like he had gone off the rails of some predetermined script. 

She rolled her eyes and slanted her mouth over his and he sighed like she had delivered him from loneliness. Lola felt it, too. He lifted a shaky hand up to cup her face and she did not stop him. She tilted her hips against his own in an eager, jerky manner. Each gesture dragged a helpless, desperate sound from the back of his throat. 

Lola was no blushing maid. She did not falter when he rid her of her dress, nor did she pause when he kissed down her torso in a precise, practiced manner, nor did she gnaw on her lip in fear when, in one swift motion, he sheathed himself inside of her. She matched his every yearning and fueled the fire that was pulsing underneath his skin and bleeding into her bones. They blazed brilliantly and far too soon it was over. 

She laid on his chest after and squinted at his broken nose, “Does it hurt?” 

He turned his head and his floppy hair followed, “My nose?” 

Lola rolled her eyes and sarcastically quipped, “No, your gentle heart. Yes, your nose.” 

Dmitry kissed her distractedly, “No. No, its okay.” Silence enveloped the tiny ten as Dmitry searched deep for the courage to ask, “When do you leave?” She pushed herself onto his chest and kissed down the line of his chest to the patch of skin just above her favorite part of him. He bit down a groan as she nibbled on the sensitive area. “Lola,” he gulped, “Answer me.” 

“First light,” she said offhandedly. 

He yanked her up to crush his lips against her own and she pouted. There was something else she would rather be doing with her mouth, but Dmitry was so infuriatingly taken with kissing her lips. He kissed her like he did not have enough time to cherish her. Which was preposterous. 

“Lola,” he pushed into her mouth. Her name was sweetest on his lips, “Lola, my darling, run away with me?” 

She giggled against his lips and swatted easily at his bare chest, “You’re the craziest man I’ve ever met.” 

“Lola, please,” his voice sounded sad, she thought, and she tried to kiss away his agony. And he let her, like he knew that he could not fight destiny. She would leave tomorrow and never see him again, but they could have the night. 

And so, he took her for the night. And he kissed her like every kiss could have been their last. And he held her in his arms and shattered her heart into a million pieces until all the pieces were singing his name in unison: Dmitry, Dmitry, Dmitry.

His hands were never idle and every time she thought he would rest or relent, he would push through the fatigue and take her walking through the galaxy where there was no light or darkness or sound or knowledge. Only the sensation of something greater. 

The sun tickled her nose awake the next morning and Lola hid her face in the safety of Dmitry’s broad chest. He rumbled a laugh and ran his fingers through the softness of her hair, getting tangled as he tried, “Are you not a morning person?”

“Hardly,” she reasoned, pushing herself off of the bed. She dressed efficiently and with her clothes back on their moment was over. She told herself it didn’t matter. There would be others, many others in her life of wandering, but the way that he looked at her she was not sure anyone else would be able to duplicate. 

Good, she harshly thought, I am no man’s flowered lady. 

“We can still go,” he rubbed his face and sat up, the furs pooled at his waist. Lola had no qualms about gawking at him. He glanced down at his chest and back up to her eyes and, infuriatingly, he smirked, “We could run away.” 

“Run away from what?” she tossed her hair back, “I don’t run.” 

“All Romani run,” he shook his head and dressed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and petulantly crossed her arms over her chest, “Wandering is not running.” 

“Like hell it isn’t, MJ,” he buckled up his boots.

“You don’t know me, Dmitry.”

“Please,” he stood to his full stature, which felt intimidating in spite of his size, “You don’t even believe that.” 

She opened her mouth to speak and promptly shut it. Lola could have argued, said she didn’t know what he was implying, but it would have tasted false and bitter on her tongue and, for some reason, she knew she could lie to herself, but the thought of lying to Dmitry was much more difficult. She felt for him. A strange and otherworldly feeling. 

“I don’t,” she coughed, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He stepped into her space and her breath hitched prettily, like a maiden in one of those western stories. Dmitry whispered, “Leave me. Use me. But don’t lie to me.” 

She parted her lips, “Dmitry, I-”

“RUSSIAN GUARDS!” A voice cried from beyond her tent. Lola’s stomach flared in fear and she pushed her legs out of her tent and into what was left of her camp. It was on fire. She roared in despair. 

Dmitry stumbled out of her tent and she looked to him, her eyes furious, “You did this. You led them straight to us.” 

His eyes widened, “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t!”

“You betrayed us,” she slammed her hands against his chest and he stumbled backward. 

He looked desperately at her, looking to draw something out of her, some kindness, she was not capable of finding as her friends and families homes burned. She had gotten most of them away, but those that remained Dmitry as good as killed them himself. 

“Lola,” he reached for her. She drew her knife. It shone in the flickers of the flames and he did not miss her meaning. She wanted him to know that she would kill him, that if he took another step forward she would slice him to bits. “Lola,” he tried again, raising his hands, “Lola, you have to believe me.” 

“A Russian?” she spat on the ground, “I would rather die.” 

His eyes watered, “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” 

“You talk in riddles!” she yelled. And he jumped at the magnitude of her voice. She could have blown her whole village down with just the fury of her tone. “You call me names I don’t know and say things that make no sense. You filthy Russian swine!” 

“Lola,” he spoke lowly, beseeching her to listen but she would not. She was done listening to his lies, “Lola, I did not do this.”  

Lola could hear the screams of her people burning, of the women the soldiers cut down with glee. She could hear the horses squealing and children crying. The tragedy filled her body until there was nothing left of Lola but wrath.

She lunged with her knife as battle raged around them. 

Dmitry did not move, he did not try and move out of the way of her attack. She felt the full force of her blade impale him. It sunk into his skin with a sickening squelch. He gasped and she looked into his eyes, digging it deeper. 

Her hands came away red with his blood and she tumbled backward, a shooting deep pain in her side. She fumbled to stop the pain, to abate it somehow, but nothing work. It radiated like a flesh wound. 

His eyes widened in some nauseous realization. Lola looked at him in agony. 

Dmitry collapsed to the ground. She fell, too. Too ill to think and her mind swimming with immeasurable suffering. 

Dmitry’s bloody hands dragged his body over to where she lay and he gently brushed her hair out of her face as she cried, weeping into the ground and begging the pain to stop. She felt him coat her hair with his blood and she was too weak to do anything but cry harder. He kissed her face as his own paled, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She choked on the bile raising in her throat until she vomited. He cupped her face and pressed his wavering lips to hers, “I didn’t know you felt it.” 

“Riddles,” she gasped.

And Dmitry, with one last push of strength, rolled off of her and died. 

The agony of her own radiating, invisible wound doubled. She shook and screamed and the Russian soldiers around her shouted witchcraft, cried for revenge for their fallen comrade, and took her suffering away with one aimed gunshot to her head. 

Her last thought in that life was this: Peter. 

[hornsbeforehalos]

Anytime, Sweetheart: Part 19

Pairing: JDM x OFC, Slight Corey Taylor x OFC Features: Ackles & Padalecki Families, R2, Misha Collins & Vicky Vantoch, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln, Kim Rhodes, Briana Buckmaster, Ruth Connell, Corey Taylor and other cast members & OFCs* *THIS IS AN RPF FIC**

Series Masterlist Summary: (I’m horrible at summaries, but let me try): Kylin Ackles runs to her brother’s house after leaving her abusive boyfriend of 3 years, where she meets Jeffrey. Events unfold that bring them together, as well as push them apart. Warnings: Emotional abuse, Physical Violence, mentions of rape, cursing, drinking, recreational drug use (weed), Strip Club, RPF, NSFW**, GIFs, implied smut, Age Difference, Slow burn, Emotional rollercoaster, poorly written smutt, etc… 18+ please

(A/N: This is strictly a work of fiction that I came up with off the top of my head. For fictional purposes his S/O & Son are not mentioned. I love him and his little family, though, so no hate intended. This is the first time posting anything on Tumblr, but I couldn’t get it out of my head since my ao3 fic is currently on hiatus because writers block. Feedback is appreciated. unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.) TAGS: @jml509 @jesbakescookies @daddy-kink-confirmed @aquivercactus  @xagateophobiax @sorenmarie87 @missghoul18@jdmfanfiction @jeffreydeanneganstrash @through-thesilver-lining@beffyblueeyes @docharleythegeekqueen

   "I FEEL NO SHAME, I’M PROUD OF WHERE I CAME FROM, I WAS BORN & RAISED IN THE BOOOONDOCKSSSSSSS" I sang loudly, dancing around Jensen’s trailer as I cleaned it up for him, ignoring the sound of the door opening as I continued to prance around

   "-And here we have you’re lovely girlfriend, Jeff, putting on a show for us in Jensen’s trailer,“ Misha laughed, holding his iPad up over his face as he walked into the small living room area.    "WHAT? Dmitri!” I screeched, snatching the tablet away from him as fast as I could and turning it around to face the screen.

Sure enough, there was Jeff, laughing his fucking ass off.

   "Shut your fucking mouth, Morgan. You too, Collins,“ I snapped, eyes darting from the man laughing on the screen to the mean laughing on the couch, "Fuck you both.”    Misha raised a finger to say something, but thought better of it with the scowl I shot him and kept his mouth closed. “Never took you for a country girl, darlin’.” “I’m from Texas, Jeffrey.” “Touche.” “What are you doing talking to Misha, anyway?”    "Well, I tried to call my girlfriend about 10 fuckin’ times, but it seems like someone didn’t want to answer their phone.“    I quirked an eyebrow and walked over to where my phone sat on the counter. Sure enough, I had 9 missed phone calls and 5 unread texts. "Sorry, babe. Got distracted with cleaning Jensen’s nasty ass trailer.” “Why are you cleaning his shit? He’s a grown man with a wife.”    "I was bored, and I already cleaned Misha’s, speaking of which,“ I turned to Misha and glared at him, "Does Vicki know you stole her vibrator?”    Misha quirked that infamous left eyebrow, but couldn’t avoid his face pinkening slightly, “Yes, she does. Do you need to borrow it?”

   I scoffed, looking back to the screen where Jeffrey’s face had both his eyebrows raised in question. “I hate the two of you, so fucking much.” “We love you too” they both replied in unison.

“Hey there, beautiful.” Corey beamed from his end of the phone. “Hello yourself, handsome.” I smiled, replying back. “You ready for Vegas?” “As I’ll ever be, ha. Are you picking me up from the airport?” “Yes ‘mam I am. Meeting you over by the baggage claim.” “Good, I’m not tryna get lost and have to search everywhere for you.” “Are you excited?”    "Of course, this is gonna be awesome. Never thought I’d be in a music video for one of my favorite bands.“ "You’re makin’ me blush.” “Whatever, rock star.” “Well, you are!”    I rolled my eyes as I packed my bag, making sure I had everything that I thought I would need. I was heading out that afternoon to shoot the new Slipknot video for Vermilion and would be gone another week. Jeffrey had given me the side eye when I told him the schedule over Skype, still not feeling 100% comfortable with me being around Corey knowing his interest in me, but I had assured him that I could handle myself with him, which I could. Although I wish Jeff was able to be with me like he was in New York, he had his schedule and there was no room for negotiation in it. I missed him like crazy, and it had been almost 2 weeks since I had seen him now. We talked everyday but the distance and working had made us both irritable, and the last conversation I had had with him was us snapping at each other.    "Whatever.“ I repeated into the phone, coming back from my thoughts and into the conversation I was having with the blonde singer at the same time my phone beeped, signaling I had another call coming in. Looking down at the screen, Jeffrey’s face popped up 'Think of the Devil’ "Hey, Cor, um, I gotta go. Jeff’s calling.” “No problem, tell the lucky guy I said hello.” “Will do. Talk to you later” I replied before switching calls. “What’re you doing?” Came his familiar greeting the moment I said 'Hello’    "Packing" I replied, sorting through my makeup bag and checking that everything was there. “Mmmm. Don’t go marrying that boy while you’re in Vegas, now, ya hear?” I rolled my eyes. ’We’re going there already?’ “Don’t start, Jeff” “I’m not starting anything, sweet pea. Just teasing.” “You’re so fucking jealous, dude.”    "Like you said, I have no reason to be jealous though, right?“ He rasped, tone lower. I could almost hear his eyebrow quirking. "No, you don’t.” “And why is that, honey bunch?” I rolled my eyes again, “Because I’m yours?” I said it like it was obvious. “Good girl.” I rolled my eyes again. “Stop rolling those eyes at me girl, they’re gonna get stuck back there one day.” “You sound like my father.”    "Not quite, even though I do like it when you call me Daddy.“ He drawled, raspy chuckle slithering through the phone line.    "Well, Daddy, I’ll roll my eyes at you if I want. What are you gonna do about it from all the way across the country?” “Brat, I will get on a plane right now and fly over there and whoop that ass.” “By the time you get here I’ll already be in Vegas. With Corey.” “Yup, your'e gonna get it.” He growled. “Oh honey, I can get it whenever I want.” Another growl. I was getting to him. Always so much fun.

“He…he…he.” I giggled devilishly.

“When am I even gonna get to see you again?”    "Ummm, well, I’ll be back here in a week, we’ve got the scoring to do still for Gish and then I should have a couple weeks free time. Don’t you have a con in Houston soon?“ "Yeah.”    "Well, I’ve been meaning to go see the family, maybe I can fly out to Dallas and then Drive down there to see you?“ "That could work” I could tell he was smiling now. “Good.”

   When I arrived in Vegas late that night I was greeted with multiple reporters lined up at the gate waiting for me. “Kylin, Kylin! Where’s Jeffrey? What are you doing here in Vegas?”    I smiled and waved but didn’t say anything, worming past them to the baggage claim to look for Corey.    When I found him, he himself was being bugged by 2 women with cameras and notepads, them asking questions about what he was doing here, how things had been, et cetera.

   "I’m here waiting to pick up a friend. Oh, there she is!“ He instantly through his arm over my shoulders as I approached, pulling me into a tight hug. Naturally, a picture was taken that same moment.    "Here we go,” I muttered, rolling my eyes for a second before throwing on a fake smile.    "What are you two doing in Vegas together, Kylin? Does Jeffrey know you’re here?“    My mouth dropped open as I choked out a disbelieving laugh at her and raised my eyebrows, "Good try, Red. Good Try. Corey is a friend of mine and I’m helping him out with a project he’s working on here. And to answer your second question, if Jeff didn’t already know where I was, then he sure would know here shortly, correct?”    The red headed woman stuttered for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. We didn’t give her a chance to figure out what to say next, though, because with perfect timing my suitcase came circling around the belt and Corey grabbed it before hurriedly leading me towards the exit.    "I guarantee you I’m about to get a phone call in three…two…one.“ I said once we were in the car and had driven down the highway a little bit. My phone vibrated on cue, displaying Jeffrey’s face. "Hello, Darling.” “Well hello to you too, Dear”    "As you probably already know I have landed and have been successfully captured by Mr. Taylor.“ "Oh he’s Mr. Taylor now, is he?”    "Dude, are you on your period or something?“ I snapped, not wanting to deal with this right now. "Woman.” He growled warningly. “Well,?” I challenged. “I’m going to hang up the phone now. Call me when you have a moment alone.” “You’re a fucking brat, Jeffrey.”    "Only when you’re one, Sweetheart.“ and with that he hung up the phone. I turned the screen off and shook my head at it, Corey looking over to me from the driver’s seat. "Everything okay?” I sighed, “Yeah, Jeffrey just being Jeffrey.” “Thing’s good between ya’ll?”    "Oh yeah, things are great, he just gets bitchy when it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.“ "Completely understandable. Long distance is defiantly hard.”    "Yeah, that’s for sure. Not too much longer 'till I see him though and can work all that grumpiness out of him.“ I laughed, shaking my head again. "L-M-A-O” He replied, laughing.

   I was flipping and contorting myself around the pole, flinging myself upside down and holding onto poses as the camera man whirled around me, catching the shots he needed as I made my way around the metal to the time of the song. The director had been thrilled that I needed very little direction and was so well skilled in the art of pole dancing. Corey moved to his place in the shot, moving to pull me off the pole and into his arms as the 'scene’ called for. I felt his arms wrap around my waist as I held myself out, letting myself fall into him so he could catch me. I suddenly felt a bout of nervousness sweep over me as he set me down on my feet and spun me around to the time of the beat, he dipped me down and lowered his face to mine. 

You’re just fucking acting, Kylin. Get it together.    Our lips met as he swung me back up upright, him twirling us around in a dance with our mouths pressed together. Per script, my eyes stayed blank and expressionless, but my heart was hammering in my chest. Corey’s fingers gripped my waist through the flowy dress I was wearing, pinching the fabric between his fingers. I don’t know if he meant to or not, or if he even really did, but I could swear I felt the vibration of his lips against mine that muffled a groan into his mouth. When he finally pulled away and opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated and he dug his fingers into my hip again, before spinning me away from him so I could climb back up the pole.    The director called cut and the volume lowered at the same time that I did, just in time to see someone I least expected plop themselves into the chair beside where the director sat.    "What the fuck are you doing here?“ I asked, shaking my head as I walked towards him. Corey instantly followed and clapped him on the back in greeting nervously.

   "Playin’ spy.” He answered honestly, ignoring Corey as he wiggled sideways in the chair and stretched his legs over the arm as he leaned his head back and stuffed his mouth with a handful of popcorn from Craft Services, “You tell your boyfrien’ about that little scene there, Ky?”    My eyes narrowed at him as I swallowed thickly, looking from him to Corey before replying “It’s not like he tells me when Negan has scenes with his wives, so I didn’t think it was important.”    "He also hasn’t been on a date with any of those women either, now has he?“He retorted sarcastically, finally moving his attention to Corey, "How’s it going, man?”    I sighed as Corey gulped and nodded his head at Norman “Going good, man. Nice to see you.”    Norman’s eyes went back to me from him as he dug his phone out of his pocket, “Mmmmhmmm.”    "Is this my fucking life?“ I mumbled, before spinning on my heals and wandering off to find something to eat, anything to get away from the awkwardness.        But of course the awkwardness was unrelenting, because as soon as I made it back to the craft services table, my phone rang. Here we fucking go. "Hey honey,” I answered innocently, playing it cool. “Really, Kylin? Fucking really?” he, on the other hand, was not very cool at all.    "I see you’ve spoken to your agent.“ I said, narrowing my eyes in the direction of Norman, who was still sitting in the chair I left him in, speaking with Corey. "You’re God damned right I did, what the fuck? You couldn’t even tell me?”    "Tell me, Jeffrey, when’s the last time Negan kissed one of his wives?“ I snapped back, irritation growing. "It’s not the same.” he growled    "How in the Hell is it not the same, Morgan?“ I growled right back, teeth clenched together.    "Well, I don’t know, Kylin, let me go grab Elyse, or Chloe, take them out to dinner and show them a good time before the next scene, huh?”    "What? Really, Jeffrey? I don’t understand why you’re acting like you don’t trust me.“ "I trust you, Kylin. It’s him I don’t trust.”    I rolled my eyes and cocked my head with a sigh, the need for a cigarette growing rapidly with the frustration. I walked back over to where my purse was by Norman, flipping him off while digging for my smokes. He laughed, which made Jeffrey laugh in my ear. “You’re gonna give him shit, aren’t you?” Jeff rasped as I began walking away    "Oh living Hell, darling. Living Hell.“ I giggled menacingly, opening the door and stepping outside.    "You really wanna know why I sent him?” Jeffrey asked, voice kinder and sincere, “Hmmmm?” I asked, pressing a cigarette to my lips and lighting it. “After what happened in New York, baby doll, I ain’t takin’ no risks.”    My lungs tightened from his words, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as I leaned against the side of the building. It almost felt as if someone was watching me, but I chocked it up to Jeffrey’s reminder and my general nervousness. I shook my head of the feeling and took a drag of my cigarette, sighing loudly on exhale. “I miss you,” I said mournfully, not wanting to argue with him anymore. “I miss you too, baby girl, so fucking much it hurts.” “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want you to…react that way.” “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”    "Wow, Jeff. Fucking wow. I’m trying to apologize and you say that shit? You know what? Fuck this.“ I seethed, sliding the disconnect button with a grunt, not believing that he actually had said that to me. "Fucking asshole,” I muttered, taking another drag.    The feeling someone was near attached itself to me again, but when I looked around I saw no one. There was a noise, like the sound of a door closing near by and I squinted my eyes in the direction of the sound but was instantly distracted as the door beside me opened suddenly as Corey and Norman walked out.    "Jesus Christ you two scared the shit out of me.“ I gasped, jerking back at the sudden motion.    "Sorry, princess.” Corey apologized, smile quirking on his face. Norman glared at him.    "You okay?“ Norman grunted, moving in between Corey and I and leaning into my personal space, "Ya’ll okay?”    I looked up at him and nodded silently before tearing my eyes away and looking back into the parking lot, dragging the cigarette to my lips to finish it before stomping it out. “Yeah, uh, we’re fine. ” I nodded again, speaking up to break the awkwardness.    "Look, uh, we’re done for the day, you two wanna go get something to eat?“ Corey asked, turning the attention back to him. "Yeah man, I could eat.” Norman answered, looking to me for my approval.    "Sounds good.“ I replied as we Corey opened the door for us, chancing one last look over my shoulder before stepping back into the building.

   Dinner went by sullenly, my mind dancing away from the conversation that the two men were having to other thoughts, like why I was still feeling put off. Norman of course noticed, leaning into my side in the booth we were at and whispering in my ear, "You okay?”    "Yeah, I’ll talk to you about it later, don’t worry for now.“ I replied, looking down to my plate of food and then to Corey’s confused stare. "Everything okay, Ky?” Corey asked, suspicious of the way Norman was acting.    "Huh? Oh yeah. Just….off, a little today, sorry.“ I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the stubborn feeling in my chest as I glanced around the restaurant one last time.    The men when back to their conversation and I went back to daydreaming until Norman’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and smirked at the screen, answering it while holding a finger to his lips in my direction.    "Hey Keagen, what’s up?” he answered, smirk on his face that told me all I needed to know. “Uh, yeah, I’m in town.” his eyes shifted to me and I gave him a knowing look.    "Oh, you are? Well than, um.“ I pinched his arm with a smirk of my own, teasing him as he swatted my hand away.    "Well, I’m kinda looking after a friend right now,” his eyes shifted to me with a pleading look, and I shook my head, waving my hands at him to not to worry.    "Well, yeah, they should be okay for a little bit, where are you staying?“ he smiled at me, moving the phone to his shoulder to bring his hands together in prayer formation, mouthing “thank you” "Okay, yeah, I’ll meet you there at around 9?” “Okay, sounds good.”    Norman ended the call and returned his attention to me, eyes flicking from mine to Corey’s, “You’ll be able to get her back safe, big mouth?”    "Yeah, I got her, no worries.“ Corey replied, brows furrowing as another look of confusion crossed his face.    "I shouldn’t be back too late. I’ll meet you at your hotel later?” Norman requested, arm wrapping around me to pull me into a hug.    "Yeah, sounds good, Norm.“ I assured, dipping in to reciprocate the gesture. He threw some cash down on the table for his tab and left, leaving Corey and I alone.     "You wanna come back to my place for a little bit? I got a buddy of mine coming over who got some super dank.” Corey offered, picking up his glass of tea and finishing it off.    I thought about it for a second, unsure of if I should let myself be around him by himself. He did say his friend was going to be there though, so I agreed, “Sure, always down to smoke.”

   Corey’s penthouse suit was gorgeous, it over looked the strip and I could see all the thousands of lights flickering in the distance. I gazed out the window while he fixed us drinks before plopping down on the fluffy leather couch to take the glass of wine from him. He smiled at me and sat down, flipping on the TV. “Mind if I ask you a question, Ky?” “Sure” I replied, sipping the blood-red liquid. “Is Jeff….I don’t know how to say this…” “What?” I asked, curious. “I mean, he sent Norman all the way out here to keep an eye on you?”    I gulped, knowing where this was heading but not wanting to fully explain Jeffrey’s concerns for me. “It’s difficult to explain, Cor. He is the way he is because of…reasons.” “Involving me?” “Not really, honestly. He’s just…protective, is all.”    "Seems like he’s more controlling than anything. Surprised he even let you do this.“ "Jeffrey doesn’t let me do anything, Corey. He’s not controlling, he’s protective.” “He sent someone to spy on you, Kylin.” “There’s more to it then that, Cor. Just let it go, okay?” “you’re my friend, Kylin, and I just want you to be happy.”    "I am happy, hun. Just don’t worry about it. Jeffrey and Norman have their reasons, okay? Just leave it at that.“    Corey looked like he was about to say something else but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. He sighed, sitting his glass down on the nearby table, "That must be Tony.”    He got up and opened the door to greet his friend, I rose as well and sauntered back over to the window, slightly irritated with Corey’s alligations about Jeff. Corey lead the man into the living room, me not really paying attention as my gaze had been diverted back to the skyline’s glittering stars. It wasn’t until he spoke that I whipped my head around at the sound of his voice. “Well, Well, Well, Look at this.”

   The glass slipped from my hand and came crashing to the floor, spilling the blood-colored liquid onto the pretty white carpet as I gasped in horror at the face before me.    A gun was swiftly lifted from the back of Anthony’s pants into the air to aim directly at Corey’s temple. Corey froze, holding his hands up while questioning, “What in the fuck are you doing, dude?” Ignoring him, Anthony’s attention focused on me, “Darling, how have you been?”    I remained pressed against the window, panic rising in my gut and forcing my body to shake involuntarily. I gulped as Anthony stepped closer to me, weapon still aimed at the shorter man. “H-h-how…"I started, but trailed of as my voice broke.    "H-h-how…” He mocked, face contorting in sarcasm before looking back to Corey, “She didn’t tell you about me, did she, Cor?”    "Kylin, what the fuck is going on?“ Corey asked, serious expression on his face as his eyes met mine, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Um, I-I…"I began again, but couldn’t, "I’m sorry, Corey.”    "I’m sorry, Corey’“ Anthony mocked again, face back distorted before he erupted in a fit of giggles, "Tell him, Kylin. Tell him who you really belong to.”    My eyes left Corey’s to look at Anthony’s face, the psychotic chuckle behind his pupils prominent as he licked his lips and danced his gaze across my frame, “Lookin’ good, puddin’, you know that? Sugar Daddy been feeding you right, huh? So what are you doing with ol’ leather face over here?”    I swallowed as I glanced back over to Corey, who still had the stoic expression on his face as he stared at me, “This is why Jeffrey’s so protective, huh?” he asked, understanding coming into his eyes as he put the pieces together.    "Oh yes, see, Cor, the only reason why I even was working for ya’ll is because I knew that you had befriended my beautiful fi-an-ce here, and, you see, she’s always too busy for me, so I figured I’d go to her“    "I’m not anything to you, Anthony, ” I spat, seeing red as I pushed myself away from my position to step in front of him. Brazenly, I grabbed the barrel of the pistol he was holding against Corey’s head and moved it in the direction of my own, “If you’re gonna shoot someone, shoot me, Anthony, I’m tired of fucking dealing with your sociopathic bullshit.”

   With the same Cheshire grin that I had picked up from him displayed across his mouth, he tilted his head, cocking the hammer on the gun and running his tongue over his teeth, “Sounds like a plan, baby doll.”

Corey screaming was the the last thing I heard before everything went black. 

[theranskahovs]

Road Trip *Piotr x Reader*

@Iocuraace requested: 71, it can be anyone  Warnings: cursing, that trope where the characters hate each other 103% then end up fucking Word Count: waay too many 4k A/N: 71. “You’re my fake wife/spouse, deal with it.” I decided to do this w/ Piotr, and also include the requests for 60. “Please tell me this is a joke!” and 62.  “We only have one room left for the night…” Also included some requests from the kinks list because I like being lazy :^) 64. no speaking + 3. almost getting caught + 61. multiple orgasm; i’d like to call this fic: we’d fight each other to the death if we could but the universe has other plans

Day One

“Piotr, (Y/N), come here!” Sergei calls you both from across the garage. You make your way over to him, surprised you could hear him over the din of the building. 

You wait as Piotr casually strolls over, biting your cheek as he takes his precious time. He nods to Sergei, ignoring you completely. 

“A deal went bad in Rochester, you need to find a member of the Irish mob and collect some money. If you can’t, make it apparent that he’ll never fuck up his end of an arrangement again. Are we clear?” 

You feel the color drain from your face. This can’t be happening. “Please tell me this is a joke!” You exclaim, pleading with Sergei.

He turns to you seriously. “If you have a problem take it up with the Ranskahovs, they planned it,” he says in a tone that suggests it’s the last thing you should do. “You’re not a child. It’ll be a day, two at most. Deal with it,” he states.

You stare at the ground angrily, thinking about what cosmic power you could’ve angered to be put in this position. Anybody but Piotr. You’d gladly go with Dmitry, Mikhail, Sergei, even the bosses themselves, who you wouldn’t admit you were scared of. Anybody but Piotr.

Ever since you came to the garage, he’d been nothing but horrible to you. He did everything from making rude comments as you struggled to find your place, deliberately sabotaging you, to flat out ignoring you for the last few weeks. You hadn’t done anything to him but be civil. If anyone was a child, it was him.

Sergei continues on about the specifics of the trip, but you’re lost in your thoughts. You catch the end of his speech, and realize it’s not that important, anyway. You glare at Piotr, and he smirks back, probably glad at the free chance to make your life hell for the next few days.

When Sergei finishes, he says, “Good luck,” and goes back to his business, leaving you and Piotr standing alone. You go to grab guns, ammo, and other necessities, glad to have some last minutes to yourself.

When you return, Piotr is leaning against his cab, looking impatient. “We’re not taking this.” You outright tell him.

“Yes, we are. Get in.” He opens the driver’s side and gets in, not looking back at you. 

You open your door roughly and argue, “This won’t get us to Rochester. It’s a piece of shit. I should know, I’ve worked on it.” 

“Don’t come then. You won’t be much help anyway,” he challenges. 

You huff and place your duffel bag in the back seat, settling in for the long ride. Instantly, you can feel the tension in the car and try to inch away from Piotr. As he pulls out of the garage, you turn the radio on, desperate to fill the silence; you wouldn’t be making small talk.

He scoffs as you select a pop station, and you wonder what else he would have preferred. Too bitter for county, not smart enough for classical. Probably rap you conclude to yourself.

Five minutes into the drive and he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out with his teeth and leaning over the wheel to light it. He doesn’t offer you one, not that you wanted one anyway, and you didn’t expect him to. You reach to roll down your window but he stops you. “No, too cold.”

“Then don’t smoke in here. It already stinks bad enough,” you reply. It wasn’t a lie, the car already smelled strongly of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and perfume. You grimace as you wonder why the smell of perfume is so strong, you decide you don’t want to know. 

“Too bad,” he mutters, taking a deep puff and exhaling the smoke onto your side of the car. You almost cough as you inhale the smoke. He just chuckles, taking another puff.

You angrily roll down your window. Without thinking, you pull the cig from his lips and toss it out onto the road. “Hey!” He yells.

“We’re going to be alone together for two days, you might as well stop being an asshole now and make it a lot easier on the both of us,” you retort. 

He clenches his jaw, not responding. But he doesn’t light another cigarette, and doesn’t protest about the fresh air streaming into the car. Well, it’s a start.

The next hour passes without incident, both of you silent and trying to get lost in your thoughts. Piotr stops at a small gas station, and hands you $50. “Get food and the rest goes for gas.”

You yank the money out of his hand, feeling like a child being told what to do. Once inside, you pay for some water, chips, and $40 for gas. You take your time in the small store, not wanting to go back to the car. Piotr was almost bearable after you yelled at him, but almost bearable wasn’t enough.  

Reluctantly, you return to the cab as Piotr starts to pump the gas. Once he’s done and gets in, you toss a bag of chips to him. “Bon Appetit.”

Before you know it, you’re back on the road, and merging onto the freeway. It’s packed, since it’s about rush hour, and you’re instantly stuck in traffic. 

After 45 minutes, you’ve only moved a few miles. Piotr’s carefully watching one of the gauges, tapping the wheel anxiously when he only moves up a few feet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worried you’re out of gas but realize you should have at least half a tank from the fill-up.

He shrugs. “Is nothing.” You look at him, knowing he’s lying. “The engine’s overheating.”

“So turn it off, we’ll be stuck here for a while, anyway.” As you say that, white smoke starts rising from the hood, blocking your view of the road. 

“Shit,” Piotr mumbles, quickly turning off the car. Traffic moves up a bit, and the car behind you lays on their horn. 

“Go!” You tell him, jumpy about the situation.

“Where?! I can’t exactly pull over!” He was right, you were in the second lane of a 4 lane freeway, and with the bumper-to-bumper traffic no one would appreciate him changing lanes.

“Figure it out, you’re the driver!” You scoff, angry that he was persistent about taking his cab, even when you both knew it wouldn’t have made it. 

Piotr turns the car on, and maneuvers toward the outer right part of the road, earning a lot of middle fingers and angry honks, to which he responds back with both of his. 

Once Piotr pulls into the gravel, you both hop out to inspect the damage. As he pops the hood, smoke spills out. 

You clench your fists, wondering could one person be so stupid. “I told you!” you yell at him. “I told you we wouldn’t make it to Rochester and you just ignored me! Because apparently I’ll never be as smart as you, Piotr. Apparently I have no clue what I’m doing. Guess what, now we’ll never make it to Rochester and the guy will be gone. I’ll have to go tell Sergei we failed. That’s what you want isn’t it? To make me look like a stupid little girl that can’t do anything right?”

He doesn’t look at you, just watched the traffic slowly go by. Quietly, he responds, “No.”

“Well then what the fuck is it? Huh?”

“This isn’t my fault!” He yells, striding over to you, making you aware of how small you are compared to him. 

“Yes it is!” You respond, looking up at him accusingly. Without thinking, you hit him in the chest with you fist, the only thing you can do at such a close distance. 

You do it again when he doesn’t react, and again and again. After six months of putting up with him and his shit, you’re glad to get it out, even if it isn’t hurting him.

“Hey! Stop!” He shouts, grabbing your wrists. You stomp on his foot for emphasis, and he grabs your waist and spins you away from him. You try to elbow him but he twists his ribs away from you. 

He pulls you closer into him, holding you tight as you breath heavily. You feel the anger slowly drain out of you, replaced by a tired feeling. Why did you have to get stuck with him? 

After half a minute he asks, “Are you done now?” 

“Yes.” He doesn’t move, so you restate, “Yes, I am. Now let me go.”

He releases you and you yank your wrists away from him, not giving him an apology. He starts walking away from you, and you call out to him, “Where are you going?” 

When you catch up with him he says, “Someone will come get it later, we’ll have to walk. We don’t have time to wait for them.”

You sigh, starting the long walk. A half hour later you take the first exit you see, drawn towards the billboards with promises of hotels. You can see the lit-up signs for fast food places in the near-distance, contrasted by the beginning of dusk.

Another half hour later and you huff angrily to yourself. You’re thirsty and tired from the day, and you didn’t pick the best shoes to wear.

“What’s wrong now?” 

“Nothing,” you snap. You add, knowing it’s stupid, “My feet hurt.”

Piotr chuckles condescendingly. “Does the princess want to be carried?”

“Pfft, no. You’d drop me, you’re pretty weak. Or you’d do it on purpose.”

Piotr just shrugs, picking up his pace. Soon enough you come to a McDonald’s, and you stop to get dinner. Inside you’re surrounded by couples, friends, and families with kids running around. It’s ironic to you how normal it seems.

Once you’re done, you search for a hotel. The only thing that seems to be around is a grungy motel, with half the sign burnt out. When you enter, you’re met by the scent of dust and grime, and a balding, creepy man. 

“Two rooms,” Piotr states, tossing a $100 on the counter. The man quickly pockets it, and hands him a key. 

“We only have one room left for the night,” he states. He eyes you, smiling with a grin that’s missing a tooth or two. “You can stay with me, honey.” 

You scowl, feeling his stare rake up and down your body. Piotr places his arm around you, glaring at the man. “Oh, actually one will do. She’s my wife, and all.”

The man looks at him disbelievingly, but goes back to reading his paper. As you step into the elevator, he winks at you, and you feel the intent behind his stare.

Once the elevator doors close, you shrug Piotr off. “Really?”

“You’re my fake wife, deal with it. If I didn’t say that he wouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Yeah thanks for saving me. I might be in a gutter, chopped in pieces without you,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “That’s happened before. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t have to,” he states, as he opens the door. You’re left wondering what he means, but it’s pushed out of your mind as you see the state of the room.

It looks like no one has cleaned it in years, and there’s stains on the carpet, furniture, ceiling... everywhere you look is disgusting. You stand there in shock as Piotr places his phone on the bedside table, “Not good enough for the princess?”

You realize that there’s only one bed, and a chair. You’re not taking the chair. “Bed’s mine,” you claim. 

Piotr raises his eyebrows. “I believe it’s my room, no?” He dangles his set of keys for you to see. “I guess you could always go spend the night with the nice man downstairs.”

You scoff, ignoring him and laying down on the bed. It’s pretty early, but you want nothing more than to sleep. Piotr goes into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start. Just as you start to fall asleep, he comes out, and turns on the light. 

You see him walking around the room, half-naked, searching for his phone. He’s only got his underwear on, and his hair is messy and damp. He sees you watching him and smirks. “Like what you see, princess?”

You turn around so you’re not facing him anymore. “Stop calling me that.” You feel the bed sag as he lays down, and his body heat is tangible in the small space. He lays down facing away from you and doesn’t bother you again.

Day Two

When you wake up, it’s not due to the sunlight streaming from the cheap blinds (which is very bright) but rather the feeling of your hair tickling your face. You brush your hair off your face, and feel a tightness around your body. 

As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you realize Piotr’s body is pressed against yours and his hand is resting on your waist. It feels comfortable and nice, until you remember it’s Piotr. 

All traces of relaxation are gone when he snores, right in your ear, and your hair is blown back into your face. You try to scoot away from him, but in his sleep his hand tightens on your hip, holding you in place. 

“Piotr,” you mumble, trying to get away from him. “Piotr.” You bump back into him slightly, hoping he’s a light sleeper. He doesn’t move. As you try to twist around in his grip, you feel the distinct feeling of his dick pressing into your ass. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. All gentleness gone, you pick his hand off your waist and let it drop onto the bed.

Piotr wakes up then, blinking and confused. “What?” he asks groggily, his voice deeper than usual. He must realize how close to you he is, but also his predicament, because he doesn’t move away. 

“Morning,” you say, getting up to take a shower. You thought about making it even more awkward for him, but decided against it. 

The shower’s just as gross as the motel room, and you don’t feel any cleaner when you get out. You dress as quickly as you can, not wanting to waste another minute in the dirty motel.

When you get out, Piotr’s all ready. “Someone dropped off another cab.”

“Good. I hope it works this time,” you say, shooting a pointed look at him. He rolls his eyes, leading you out front and to the cab.

Thankfully, you make it to the address Sergei gave you without any more problems. It took a couple more hours, and you’re half-surprised the guy didn’t catch on that you were coming.

Piotr stops in front of a small apartment complex, looking like it’s seen better days. Loitering around the front is a group of suspicious looking men, and you know instantly you’re at the right place. 

Cautiously, you get out and make your way over to the guys. “Where’s Reid?” Piotr asks. He’s met with glares and curious eyes. One man juts a thumb behind him, indicating to go into the complex and upstairs.

Piotr nods, letting you go in front of him. He follows you up the stairs, placing his hand lightly on the small of your back as you go. Once you’ve gone up the first flight of stairs, you can tell which room Reid is in. There’s another small group of Irish guys outside, and they stare at the both of you as you go in. 

Reid is sitting at a table, and Piotr approaches him first. “You know what we came for.”

“You’ll get your money,” he states casually, as if Piotr asked about the weather.

“We’ll get it now, and we’ll be on our way. It’s simple,” you say, showing him the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans.

“Since when did the Ranskahovs send women to do their dirty work?”

You roll your eyes, striding over to where he’s sitting and kicking him under the chin. In an instant, he’s out of his chair and flying at you, hitting you roughly in the jaw. You stumble back, clutching at your jaw.

“Control your bitch, man,” Reid spits at Piotr, muttering something under his breath that’s directed at you, but thankfully you don’t speak Gaelic. 

Reid tosses a small bag of cash at Piotr’s feet, “It’s not worth the trouble.”

Piotr spits a derogative at him in Russian, and slams the door as you leave. The men watch you as you get back in the cab, and it’s almost eerie, even though you would have done the same to them if they came to the garage. 

On the drive back, Piotr’s more quiet than usual, considering it went relatively well. At the worst you’d thought you would have had to take on part of the mob. 

Half an hour out he turns onto a side street with no exit and pulls over. “Let me see your jaw.” 

You turn to him, showing him the right side of your face. You’d avoided looking at it in the mirror, fearing the worst. It was throbbing and painful, but you didn’t think it was broken. 

Piotr reaches out to touch it and you hiss, jerking away from him in pain. He hums in apology and presses into the tender skin. “Is not broken,” he confirms. 

His hand lingers on your face and look look up at him in confusion. He meets your eyes and surges forward, kissing you passionately. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you whimper slightly, before he moves it to the back of your head.

You almost push him away, but it feels so good, except it’s Piotr. You’re confused and angry but you don’t want him to stop and you wonder why you’ve never done this before and then his hand gravitates to your breasts and now you really wonder why you’ve never done this before.

He pulls your shirt off, not bothering to be gentle. He has a harder time with you bralette, but you manage to wiggle it off. He pulls his shirt off next and pulls you back into him. Your breasts press into his chest as he holds you tightly, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He moves his seat back and pats his lap, grabbing your hips as you straddle him. His mouth attaches to your neck, sucking a hot and messy trail down to your nipple. You grind down onto him, feeling restricted by all the layers between you two.

With a bit of fumbling and awkward movements, you manage to pull your jeans off, tossing them onto the floorboard. Piotr pulls your panties to the side, spits on his fingers, and instantly pushes three inside of you. 

It’s tight and almost painful, but it feels so filling. He pushes his fingers deep into you, roughly pressing against your g-spot. He fingers you harshly, fast and quick enough to have you panting out moans. 

His thumb rubs rapid circles on your clit, while his other hand grabs the back of your neck and drags you down to meet his lips. You moan into his mouth as your hips roll to the rhythm of his fingers. 

He continues his movements for only a few more minutes, and you’re already close to coming. As you come, you bite Piotr’s lip. In retaliation, he keeps fingering you. You’re sensitive and his movements on your clit don’t stop. You try to move away but his hand on your waist keeps you in place.

Soon the uncomfortable pressure on your clit turns into pleasure, and you’re gripping Piotr’s shoulder tightly as you feel your stomach start to get tingly. With a whimper you’re cumming again, this time more intense than the last. 

Still, he keeps up the delicious torture, and you just pant as he continues. Your body is tired, but if he stops now you’ll never forgive him. Even faster than the last time, you cum for the third time in 15 minutes.

Your legs shake and you can hardly control the high-pitched moan you let out. Spent, you lean back against the steering wheel and look at Piotr through your lashes. He’s smirking, beyond proud of what he did to you. 

Without meaning to, you lean on the horn and you both jump in surprise. At the end of the alley, a walker turns his head to the car. After a minute he keeps walking, and you look at Piotr and laugh.

He smiles at you, truly, for the first time you recall. As if he’s broken from a trance, he lifts his hips off the seat, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down. 

He takes his dick into his hand, stroking himself quickly a few times, before teasing your entrance with it. By now you’re dripping wet, and he slides in easily. You almost don’t trust yourself to sit up and drop back down onto him, so he holds your hips in place and thrusts up into you.

You grip onto Piotr’s biceps as he roughly fucks you, your finger tracing the smattering of tattoos on his arm. Without warning, he grabs your chin in his hand and presses his lips to yours. Your jaw is aching in pain, but you don’t mind. You can barely feel it. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling the short strands roughly. Within a few minutes, Piotr’s thrust become sloppy, and with a bite to your neck, he cums inside you. You both stay there for a few seconds, trying to catch your breaths, before you shakily clamber off him and search for your clothes. 

Silently, you both redress, and Piotr backs out of the alley. The mood between you two feels changed, yet somehow also the same as it was. You’re too tired to analyze it. Instead you lean your head against the cold window of the cab and watch the unfamiliar streets pass by.

Day Three

You wake up as Piotr drives into the garage, hitting the speed bump at the entrance too fast. “Wake up, princess,” Piotr says, elbowing you fully awake.

You and Piotr make your way over to Sergei, who’s surprisingly still at the garage. Before Piotr turned the cab off you saw the time read well past 3 am. Piotr hands him the bag of money, walking off to talk to a group of guys. 

“How did it go?” Sergei asks.

“Better than I expected,” you truly admit with a small smile. 

[nightblogofficialbook]

Chapter Fourteen

Also available to read at Tapas.io!

I sat where I was on the couch, still mulling over things. It felt like a week had passed me by in just 24 hours. Despite having a full night's rest I felt exhausted. And furious. Why did he do that? Why did he decide today, of all days, would be a time to test that? I was still unnerved at the fact that he actually made me feel comfortable, relaxed. I didn’t like it. It was terrifying.

A few more minutes passed before Dmitri arrived with a soft knock. He gave me time to get changed and fixed up, and then he led me down a spiral staircase and out of the tower. He assured me that everyone on the riding trail made it back safe and sound, and have been given enough information to placate them. This made it easier for me to come up with what to actually say, in case I say too much.

After what felt like a long walk we finally reached the open glass hallway to the Day Wing, and I relaxed just a little more, thankful for the familiarity. Dmitri said he’d let me go from there but assured me that he’d still be close by.

Everyone was practically in hysterics when I showed up, Claire even in tears since she saw me last. I felt horrible. Not only was I not able to tell anyone when I left, but now I had to leave them in the dark again, after they all had woken up and found me missing. They thought I had been kidnapped, which...they weren’t exactly wrong about.

To my surprise though, they took my excuses readily, understanding immediately, soon as I mentioned Zain. I’m starting to realize what kind of power he actually has...and just how much power his name alone carries. I wonder what else I’d could get away with.

After packing my things and handing them to Dmitri I decided to walk around with the girls, seeing as I don’t know how much more time I’d be able to spend with them now. Everything seemed...normal, despite the buzz of rumors about what happened yesterday. News of Zain’s injuries had spread with worry and yet hardly anyone seemed actually concerned. Less concerned than the day I had shown up even. It made me recall the story he had told me last night, and his disdain. Everyone knew...but nobody seemed to care. Like it was just an every other day occurrence.

The only thing that seemed to really change was me.

Despite staying in his room from then on, I didn’t see Zain for nearly the entire week. Dmitri and Mason would trade off escorting me to and from his room since Dmitri would still have classes. I began to wonder when Zain sleeps, and if he ever normally sleeps. Maybe he sleeps during the day; most of his duties seemed to be at night. I asked Mason one time where he was.

“The idiot is still running around on fumes,” he said, shaking his head. “Still trying to gather evidence of a conspiracy to give to the council; dumbass hasn’t even slept yet.”

Well that answered one question. Regardless, I slept on the couch instead of the bed, which was significantly less comfy but felt way less weird.

Aside from the rumors of his attack, the Winter Solstice was still the main topic on everyone’s mind. It was the one night that every human was invited over to the Night Wing to comingle and celebrate with the entire vampire population. There was talk of extravagances and earning favors, the pinings among my peers for the chance to meet young suitors at the dance. Even if I weren’t already required to go, I’d have no interest in any of this whole affair. I’d be doing my best to ensure I COULDN’T go. But the ball was only two weeks away now, and a horrible thought just occurred to me.

I’m going to have to dance with Zain.

And I still can’t dance worth crap.

“Hey, Dmitri?” I asked once everyone had left the classroom. “Can I...ask you something?”

A slight look of worry tinged his eyes but he obliged. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

“You remember when you offered to...when you said if I ever changed my mind about dancing, you’d be up for the challenge?”

His eyes immediately lit up. “Yes, of course. My offers still stands, naturally.

I nodded, feeling determined now. “Do you...do you think you can help me in time for the Solstice Ball?”

It was very dark by the time I got back to the Night Wing. Dmitri was ecstatic, and wanted to start working with me immediately. I’ve all but filled up my free time now with extra lesson with him, trying to learn the specific dance style that was traditionally performed. Unsurprisingly my klutziness resulted in some really horrendous accidents that, had it been another human being, would have definitely caused injury. But Dmitri was unfazed by it all, and remained determined  to make a dancer out of me.

I groaned as I opened the door, feeling rather sore yet somewhat exhilarated, and felt the pulling sensation increase. With a start I looked up; Zain was back.

He was sitting on his bed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands, his face furrowed. He made no noise or motion that indicated he was aware of my presence. I shuffled in awkwardly.

“Hey,” I called with uncertainty. “Um, hi, I’m here.”

“I know.” He still didn’t move, his eyes staring out into nothing, like he was looking outward for something.

“Um…” I tentatively pulled up a chair and sat down. “Has...has something happened?”

The concern in my voice seemed to snap him out of it. He looked up, his eyes focused on me, and then back forward. He looked so tired. But he was present now.

“No, nothing yet. Nothing definitive. I managed to find traces of the group that attacked me, they were definitely organized. But there’s nothing that draws them back to the castle. Whoever it is, they’re keeping very good tabs on their tracks and alibis.”

“What about Greg?”

“I’ve looked into him too. And into every piece of paper that entered existence in this castle and where it goes. He’s never exhibited any behavior out of the ordinary, except when he intercepted us last week. And no one knows how that letter ended up in your possession.”

I shivered. “Do ghosts exist too, by chance?”

He gave me an impatient stare. “Really, Helen?”

“Come on, I’m half-kidding. I don’t know what’s real or fantasy anymore. I still wonder if I’m not just having the world’s longest nightmare.”

“Tell me about it…” Zain grumbled.

Silence fell between us as soft moonlight began to fill the windows.

“What about anyone on the council?” I asked after a moment. “At this point we should be treating everyone as a suspect, right?”

He gave me another look of frustrated impatience that quickly turned thoughtful. “That’s true. It could even be the entire council, and that’s why they’re so against it.” He groaned and fell back into the bed. “But they of all people would understand what would happen if I died. Their interests is in the peace of our preservation, not destructive chaos. Someone could be pretending, but…”

He suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. “That’s right. Someone could be pretending--lying. But they wouldn’t know…” He stood up, coming over to me. “Helen, have you noticed anything strange about your friends?”

I bristled. “I’m sorry what?” I felt extremely confident that none of them are trying to kill us.

He shook his head and gripped my shoulders, looking hopeful. “I don’t mean like that, I just mean have any of them been acting weird, or stranger than usual?”

I thought about it, about the week so far. Nothing had been strange, Rose seemed a little more worried but remained a powerhouse to the dorm, Alice and Suzanne hadn’t changed routines at all, Claire got her form from Greg for the spring trip and some new snacks, Wendy-

My insides grew cold with guilt as I realized. “Wendy wasn’t at the dorms at all.”

He stiffened. “That’s not good.”

I stared into his eyes with worry. “You don’t think…?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be thinking things over, then…

“I need to check something. This might be...this might be the lead I needed.” He looked into my eyes again, patiently pleading. “And, Helen...I really need you to cooperate with me today.”

I stiffened, immediately remembering what he did last time.

“I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again. I keep my promises.”

I swallowed tentatively and took a breath. “Okay, fine,” I said, awkwardly moving my hair out of the way of my neck. “It’s better not to take chances I guess.”

He seemed to chuckle and smirk a little, and took my arm instead. “Just a snack this time, Helen. No need to be so dramatic.”

I flushed and glared at him. “Excuse you, who was it that’s always objected to anything but my neck?!” But he had already bit into my arm.

The brief pain caused me to wince but it soon faded quickly as the vague yet familiar numbness took it place as he drew my blood. A slightly morbid curiosity filled me as instead of shutting my eyes I glanced sideways at him.

Zain was holding my arm gently to his mouth, his lips soft against my skin as if he were simply kissing it. His eyes were closed and relaxed, though his features seemed ragged with exhaustion. The skin around where he bit was unmarked except for a little drainage of color. As he drank slowly and carefully, I realized just how used to this I had gotten. The sight, the idea of it, no longer sickened me.

He lifted his mouth with a light gasp, and then let me go after a quick swipe of his tongue over the wound before the blood could bead. I snatched my arm back soon as he did, startled and a little weirded out. And then saw the two red punctures reduce it’s swelling and heal over, leaving behind the smallest hint of a bruise. My eyes widened.

“Vampire venom,” Zain explained to my alarmed gaze as he wiped his mouth. “You’ve heard about it, we make a diluted paste out of it for humans. In pure concentration it can be toxic. You’re immune to mine though.”

“How do people not die when they’re not a Bride?” I asked in disbelief, still staring at my arm and trying not to think about the fact that he just licked me.

“It depends on how much blood is taken, and how healthy the victim is.” I smirked a little when he said ‘victim,’ and he rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not the only one who has a hard time following the rules; some humans and vampires do contact feeding; it’s part of the reason why we make sure everyone stays healthy.”

“So no one accidently dies,” I nodded. “So...if another vampire bit me, then…?”

“As long as I keep feeding from you regularly, nothing should happen. My venom in your system acts like an antibody as well as a healing mechanism; it uses your energy to accelerate any injury recovery, and it attacks any foreign intrusion if anyone else tries to bite or turn you, kind of like guarding a territory. If you were to be attacked, and someone else bit you or tried to turn you, you'd be in mortal danger unless I get to you in time. My regular feedings from you isn’t just for my benefit alone; it's keeping you protected as well.”

“Thats...disturbing. Yet somewhat reassuring.” It was weird to know that essentially Zain’s spit coursed through my veins, but at least that meant I'd be relatively safe from other vampires’ bites. Zain was staring at me now, though.

“What?” I asked, then realized. “Did...did I just say that outloud?”

“You did,” he answered, still staring at me curiously. “Not that it would have matter whether you vocalized it or not.”

I looked away and crossed my arms, my face tinged pink I’m sure. It was really unfair how often he heard my thoughts. “Stay out of my head.”

“As I’ve said before, I would if I could, love.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him.

“Oops, did I say that outloud?” he said with an air of false pretense, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly, and teasing mischief in his eyes. I glared at him, glad the anger hid the embarrassing thoughts my mind had jumped to. That’s not funny. He seemed to think it was.

He cleared his throat and began heading towards the door, the humor falling back to a mode of seriousness. “I’m going to go check some things now, and see if I can find your friend.” My anger subsided immediately and gave way to worry. “I don’t know how long it will take, but please, PLEASE, don’t leave the room unless Dmitri, Mason, or myself comes for you. They’ll be close by just in case, but if we’re being watched they’re going to know I’ll be on the other side of the castle, and away from you.”

I nodded, feeling my insides curl with a growing sense of unease. I really want to go to the pool; I’m probably not going to be able to sleep tonight.

He cast me a sympathetic stare before opened the door. “Stay safe, Helen,” he said, and then he was gone.

I sat in the quiet, trying not to think once more. I really didn’t like this room. It was too big. Too empty. There was too much space for my thoughts to escape into. Wendy...how could I have not noticed her? That she was missing? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? Or noticed it? I know it was common for her to miss classes but…

Wait. What if she was just in her room the whole time? Maybe she was sick…

But her urgent warning that day was too coincidental. Something strange, stranger than normal, was happening.

I shook my head and propped it against my hands on the table. I was so tired. I wanted to lie down. But there was too much happening in my brain. He licked my arm. I shuddered, feeling weird, casting my eyes to the almost-gone bruise. That healed way faster than the ointment Alice had used on me my first night here. And the bruise on my neck after his first actual feeding...that had still been really dark, though it hadn’t left any swelling. And the fast healing bruise from when I force fed him, it had gone from purple to yellow very quickly; it was gone within that evening. My body, I realized, has steadily grown more efficient at healing those things. My hand traced the welted scar around my collarbone idly, recalling what he just told me earlier. About his venom in my veins, its healing properties. The changes my body was going through, would continue to go through. That venom...must be responsible for preserving the life of Brides, I concluded. If Zain stopped feeding from me, I wonder, would I start to age, same as he would?

But then, Brides were supposed to be changed from the moment of the first bite, regardless of the lifespan of the vampire. Or...was that also a lie too?

My head slowly fogged over, my eyelids drooping. I really wanted to lie down, but I was too worried. Loneliness was all that filled the space here. I found myself wishing he would come back soon, as my head slowly lowered to the table.

Everything felt bright and airy, and I knew immediately I was in a dream. I was floating through the snow, but it wasn’t cold. The trees were quiet, and soothing. It was a blissful moment, but I should probably be getting home.

Very slowly eyes began to form on the tree trunks, following me, growing more frequent. It unnerved me, and I started running. Now I was in the castle walls, passing portraits and shadows. The eyes continued to follow me.

I was in a courtyard, but not one I’d seen before. There were large stone arches and a fountain. Someone was standing on the other side, a dark figure. They felt dangerous. The eyes were starting to close in, like they were excited, like something they had been wanting was about to happen.

“Helen?”

I looked up, startled. Zain was standing next to me, looking bemused.

“What are you still doing there?” he asked, and the eyes disappeared. Elation filled me; I was so relieved. Zain’s here now, everything will be okay.

The world around us blurred and we were back in his room again. I mumbled something about “You scared the eyes away.” He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then seemed to understand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said gently, and lifted me from my chair. His arms were so warm and his scent so pleasant...I buried my head in his chest, sighing and wishing this wasn’t a dream. A soft chuckle resonated within it.

He set me down on the bed and began to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his sweater desperately, causing his red worried eyes to turn back in surprise. Don’t go...please don’t go, they’ll come back, I don’t want them to come back…”

“Who will come back?” he questioned, his voice sounding worried.

“The lonely,” I murmured, my droopy eyes starting to well with tears. “Don’t leave me, please…”

Something seemed to click in his expression, and he sat down on the bed next to me. His eyes switched from red to green like a stoplight. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stay…” I still had a hold of his sleeve. “Don’t leave...just stay with me…”

“I won’t leave,” his gentle voice murmured, and I felt my heart lift. I closed my eyes, the tears that had built up pushed themselves out and down my cheeks. He was staying, it was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

There was a soft humming and I felt my hair being stroked gently. It was comforting, and his voice soothing. I could feel myself falling deeper into sleep, wishing once again this wasn’t just a dream.

When I woke up my face flushed immediately. The dream played and replayed in my head a few more times, each time more embarrassing than the last. I sat up, my feelings squirming in a weird manner inside me. That was definitely a dream...right? He didn’t...he wouldn’t have acted like...and didn’t really...I didn’t...right?

The door clicked opened and I threw the metal barriers up immediately, squeaking in fright. The smell of fresh warm eggs and bacon wafted in, and Zain walked in carrying a plate of breakfast. He spotted me.

“Oh good, you’re already awake. I brought up some breakfast.”

I stared at him incredulously, wondering if I wasn’t still asleep.

“There’s some things I need to talk to you about,” he said, making his way to the couches and table. “Something that...isn’t going to be easy for you to hear.”

I swallowed, and my stomach growled. Unable to resist the smell of offered food I obliged and got out of bed. I watched his face with growing anxiety. Did he...hear my dream at all? Would dreams carry through thoughts? I didn’t want to be teased for this. It was bad enough that...but his face remained stoic, his eyes not meeting mine. He waiting for me to start eating first, staring down at his hands in contemplation.

“I couldn’t find Wendy,” he said, and I dropped my fork.

“You couldn’t…?” I picked up the fork again, the dream falling completely from my  mind. “Then...is she…?”

“She’s vanished, I couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere. Her scent led up to her room and never left. I don’t think she’s dead.”

The food grew bland in my mouth. I didn’t want to eat anymore. “Then...then she’s been taken.”

“That is my best guess, though by who I can’t be sure. Your friends’ memories, however...have been altered.”

I froze. “What? What do you--?”

“They’re okay! They haven’t been hurt, but...someone’s tampered with their memories of Wendy. They seemed to be under the impression that she’s simply an acquaintance; they have no recollection of Wendy ever having stayed in the dorms.”

“But--her room--?”

“The plaque had been removed.”

My head spun as I tried to keep my breathing steady. Wendy’s been taken...someone must have found out she tried to tell me and took her. They’re trying to erase her existence to cover it up. “Who has the ability to do that?”

“Too many people unfortunately,” Zain grimaced. “But now we have something that I can force a proper investigation on. Even if it’s unrelated, she might have been kidnapped to make a Bride, which is against the rules without the proper procedures. They can’t ignore this.” He looked triumphant, and hopeful, but still with a twinge of worry in his eyes. And then his expression fell just a little. “But this would rule out Greg; his ability has to do with intelligence gathering. He can observe high amounts of information through strands of thought,” he added to my puzzled look. “He’s kind of like an antenna…” Zain trailed off as a thought dawned on me.

“That’s how he could be keeping track of us,” I said out loud. “He wouldn’t need to follow us around.”

“He can just tune in to the right frequencies,” Zain said, his hand going to his mouth in realization.  “But then...that would definitely mean there are more accomplices, if that’s the case. Someone who can tamper with memories, and someone who can collect information.”

We sat there for a moment, and I dropped my head into my hands in exasperation. Zain cast me a look of sympathy.

“Why does everything keep getting complicated…” I grumbled. “Is there a way to get their memories back?”

“It depends,” he answered hesitantly, “on how they were taken in the first place. Vampires powers are fairly unique, but they’re usually a variation of four category types: Mental, Physical, Elemental, and Ethereal. Mine would be considered elemental, Dmitri’s telekinesis is physical, Greg’s would be mental. Memory tampering would also be mental, but there’s different variations of how that works. It could be that they’re memories were reordered, locked, or, as an ethereal version, actually stolen away. It doesn’t seem like it’s a case of that, ethereal abilities are actually pretty rare. If they’re scrambled, we can find a person who can put them back but…”

“...but there’s a chance that person would be the one who scrambled them in the first place,” I finished for him. He nodded.

“Things might get...more dangerous today,” he began to say. “I don’t think whoever it was expected me to let you back to the Day Wing so quickly; they might not have snuck your friend away so soon if they knew. But they’re going to know by now that I’ve searched for her, and once it gets to the council today they might think they’ve been compromised. I want you to stay here, okay? Just for today at least. They might get desperate, they might act while I’m away from you this time.”

I didn’t like the idea of being stuck in the room all day, but I also didn’t like the idea of feeling paranoid walking through the halls. “What about you? Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed with you?”

He blinked at me for a second, and then the slyest smirk I’ve seen from him yet pulled up the corners of his mouth. “What’s this, Helen?” he accused teasingly. “Worried for me?”

For second it felt like he knew. He knew about the dream, he heard it. But I wasn’t going to admit it. I flushed and looked away angrily. “Of course I’m worried, jerkface. It’s not like I want you to die.”

A small triumphant glee rose in me as I saw his expression fall just a little, once he realized his teasing didn’t work the way he intended. He sighed sheepishly.

“I’ll be in the council room the whole time, so unless it’s the council themselves, whoever it is will have a hard time fighting against fourteen powerful vampires. I appreciate the concern though,” he added with another smirk.

He waited until I finished the rest of my breakfast (what I could stomach at this point at least) before leaving, promising to be back by lunch. I sat where he left me, staying in my pajamas, uncertain. The pulling sensation grew taut but not unbearably so, almost seeming to react to my anxiety this time. I was afraid, afraid for my friends, afraid for Zain, afraid for myself. There was nothing I could do about it right now, nothing I could do at all. I could only hope that things work out, that the COV listens to him, that they find Wendy safe and sound.

Wendy...I looked over at his bookshelf. Peter and Wendy, the story of Peter Pan. A boy who never wanted to grow up, whisks away a young girl and her siblings, and proceeds to have many adventures. Our Wendy’s been whisked away too, only she was all alone, kidnapped by an unidentified Captain Hook.

I shook my head and tried to busy myself. I tried to practice the dance steps Dmitri had been teaching me, pretending to be waltzing with an invisible partner. When I felt too silly I decided to poke around, investigating Zain’s office-sized walk-in closet. Despite the size it looked like many articles of clothing remained untouched, some even looking to be too big for him. When that didn’t work I sat back down next to his bookshelves and tried reading some of the books he had.

Time continued to drag on, I was pretty sure it was noon now. I was starting to get hungry again. I briefly considered sneaking down to get food. It was a stupid idea, of course. But I decided to get up anyway and press my ear to the door. No sound was coming from the halls, not that I was surprised, this was probably the only room up here.

I walked over to the balcony window and hesitated. Surely it would be okay, it would be safe, right? It was part of his room after all.

The blast of cold air was a breath of relief. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it felt in the room. The sky was white and cloudy, and there was a fresh layer of snow. I stepped out and leaned against the stone railing, my breath coming out in puffs of steam. I started to relax.

It’ll be okay. Thousands of strange things have happened now, but you haven’t died from them.

Not yet anyway.

Shut up, that doesn’t mean things won’t work out. I mean, it’s been four months now, right? That’s plenty of time for things to turn catastrophic.

But something was coming. Something in me felt it, like the foreshadowing of a story. It was like a big storm was coming, and I was staring into the thunderclouds rolling towards me.

Want to support the author? Don’t want to wait for more?

Purchase the whole book here!

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

Puck Daddy Bag of Mail: Ovechkin's ice time and Fleury's HOF credentials

We’re two games in and this series feels wide open. Maybe that was inevitable.

Game 1 was a wild affair with a ton of goals from unexpected sources. Game 2 had less scoring, obviously, but equally surprising scorers. And boy have the games been chippy, too. Maybe that, too, was inevitable, given who these teams are and how they got here.

Mike asks: “Who’s a guy you think should be getting more ice time?”

I made this point in a WWL recently but the Caps aren’t using Alex Ovechkin as much as I would like.

He’s only averaging 18:13 per night, less than Backstrom and Oshie. A big chunk of that is on the power play, too. If you have Ovechkin and have the chance to put him over the boards more often than 18 minutes a night, I don’t know why you don’t take it.

Maybe you argue, “Well it was a road game and they want favorable matchups,” which I guess probably played a role. And because both games were close — a bad bounce or missed call away from going the other way in each case — you probably feel like you did everything more or less right. That’s hockey, yeah?

But man I gotta think emptying the tank on this guy since he’s got a max of five more games this season is probably a better idea than keeping something in reserve. Every once in a while, maybe you float what would normally be a Jakub Vrana shift Ovechkin’s way instead. What’s the big deal there?

Another guy on the Caps who should probably get more ice time: Andre Burakovsky, who has three assists in the series despite playing less than 25 minutes total. See what the guy can do!

Alex Ovechkin should be playing more. (Photo by Jeff Bottari/NHLI via Getty Images)

Jack asks: “If the Capitals win is everybody going to start using the 1-1-3 and become even more boring?”

I’d tend to doubt it.

Even if they win playing 1-1-3, it will be hard to argue that they won because they played 1-1-3. A lot of the copycat style — which absolutely exists — comes through easily ascribed narratives, like “the Bruins won because they were hard to play against” and “the Penguins won because they played fast hockey.” In reality, though, the teams that win the Cup more often just do so because they have a lot of talent, right?

I don’t think anyone’s under the illusion that the Caps have gotten this far because Barry Trotz became a systems genius after a putrid regular season in which they were one of the worst possession teams in the league. They have a goalie that got hot at the exact right time, and they have at least two Hall of Famers up front plus an incredible career year from John Carlson (who’s up to 95 points in 103 games this season).

T.J. Oshie is a pretty damn good forward and he’s probably the fourth-best one they have. This isn’t hard to figure out.

Michael asks: “Are we actually going to start seeing regression with MAF?”

Does seven goals against on 54 shots (.870) in two games not qualify? Honestly asking.

Pugs asks: “If Fleury wins another Cup and the Conn Smythe is he going to get in the Hall of Fame?”

“Will he?” and “Should he?” are two very different questions, but I honestly don’t know.

Because I would have bet Chris Osgood’s career earnings that Chris Osgood would have gotten into the Hall of Fame with relative ease, but he hasn’t (yet). There have been, to be fair, a lot of no-doubt HHOF guys becoming eligible the past few years, so I suppose this is a case of maybe there’s just not room for him.

Fleury is present-day Osgood.

“Meh” career numbers, 1.5 Cups as a starter right now (I’m counting last year, obviously). Horrible reputation in the playoffs until the last two seasons. And when he won his one full Cup, he wasn’t even that good. If Vegas wins it this year, it’ll be entirely because Fleury stood on his head for three rounds. The Conn Smythe will be well-earned.

But for me he’s not a Hall of Famer. I feel the same way about Osgood. Neither was ever considered anything resembling an elite goalie for more than a month or two. I’m not gonna look it up but I’m pretty sure Fleury’s only been a top-10 Vezina guy twice, and never cleared No. 7 in the league.

So yeah, if he gets Osgood’s rep as a coattail-rider, I think that’s well-earned. Hockey Men probably won’t see it that way, though.

Megan asks: “If Washington wins but Ovechkin doesn’t win the Conn Smythe, how long will we have to hear about how Crosby did win the Conn Smythe?”

I think if Washington wins it’s Holtby’s award to lose, right? But on the other hand, the romanticism of giving it to Ovechkin — who has been quite good in this postseason, to be fair — might be too big to ignore.

That’s not your question but I wanted to say that. It’s not like the guy has been a drag on team performance and they’re winning in spite of him. He’s a huge reason the Caps are here.

If he doesn’t win it, I honestly don’t think anyone will hold that against him. He’s been great and at this point I think everyone outside Vegas is rooting for him on some level.

Adam asks: “How much should fans appreciate Dmitry Orlov?”

A pretty good amount, I think. And they’ll probably get the chance to do just that after John Carlson gets a billion dollars a year this summer.

Orlov’s been sheltered a bit, for sure, but his underlying numbers and the eye test both suggest this is a guy who could do well in a bigger role. How big, I’m not sure, but he’s playing 24-plus minutes in these playoffs and the numbers are unequivocally good.

Because Washington almost certainly can’t retain Carlson, they’re gonna need someone to be the big man on their power play in his stead. Why not Orlov, baby!

Kyle asks: “Is there any justification to playing Tom Wilson in a top-line role and why is the answer no?”

Of course there is. He is, for better or worse (definitely worse) the second-best right wing on the team and, as I’ve said before, he’s not totally talentless.

Plus, you could put Oshie on that line instead of Wilson, but you understand the reasons why Trotz wouldn’t want to put almost all his offensive weapons on a single line. I’m a big believer in “find two guys who work well together and just give them a random player to work with after that,” and Trotz has now done that with both Ovechkin-Kuznetsov and Backstrom-Oshie.

You’d rather have that than make Backstrom lug Wilson around, which is your only other option if you put someone who is Not Wilson on the top line.

David asks: “So Vegas put Ryan Reaves on the ice with about 54 seconds left in the game down by a goal. I love Reaves…. but c’mon. Is there any logic behind this or did Vegas kinda screw themselves there?”

The logic, such as it is, goes thusly: Ryan Reaves scored a goal in Game 5 of the Western Conference final and Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final so he is an offensive weapon now.

Is that Gerard Gallant making a dumb mistake? Yes. Did it cost Vegas the tying goal? Probably not. I wouldn’t recommend that as a going-forward kinda thing but it’s 54 seconds when you only scored two goals in the previous 59:06.

It’s not something he should ever do again and all the people laughing at him for how silly it is to believe Reaves is some kind of hot shooter now are right to do it. But also, let’s not make too big of a deal here.

—

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

All stats via Corsica unless noted otherwise. Some questions in the mailbag are edited for clarity or to remove swear words, which are illegal to use.

More Stanley Cup Final coverage from Yahoo Sports

[readbookywooks]

A Laceration in the Cottage

HE certainly was really grieved in a way he had seldom been before. He had rushed in like a fool, and meddled in what? In a love-affair. "But what do I know about it? What can I tell about such things?" he repeated to himself for the hundredth time, flushing crimson. "Oh, being ashamed would be nothing; shame is only the punishment I deserve. The trouble is I shall certainly have caused more unhappiness.... And Father Zossima sent me to reconcile and bring them together. Is this the way to bring them together?" Then he suddenly remembered how he had tried to join their hands, and he felt fearfully ashamed again. "Though I acted quite sincerely, I must be more sensible in the future," he concluded suddenly, and did not even smile at his conclusion. Katerina Ivanovna's commission took him to Lake Street, and his brother Dmitri lived close by, in a turning out of Lake Street. Alyosha decided to go to him in any case before going to the captain, though he had a presentiment that he would not find his brother. He suspected that he would intentionally keep out of his way now, but he must find him anyhow. Time was passing: the thought of his dying elder had not left Alyosha for one minute from the time he set off from the monastery. There was one point which interested him particularly about Katerina Ivanovna's commission; when she had mentioned the captain's son, the little schoolboy who had run beside his father crying, the idea had at once struck Alyosha that this must be the schoolboy who had bitten his finger when he, Alyosha, asked him what he had done to hurt him. Now Alyosha felt practically certain of this, though he could not have said why. Thinking of another subject was a relief, and he resolved to think no more about the "mischief" he had done, and not to torture himself with remorse, but to do what he had to do, let come what would. At that thought he was completely comforted. Turning to the street where Dmitri lodged, he felt hungry, and taking out of his pocket the roll he had brought from his father's, he ate it. It made him feel stronger. Dmitri was not at home. The people of the house, an old cabinet-maker, his son, and his old wife, looked with positive suspicion at Alyosha. "He hasn't slept here for the last three nights. Maybe he has gone away," the old man said in answer to Alyosha's persistent inquiries. Alyosha saw that he was answering in accordance with instructions. When he asked whether he were not at Grushenka's or in hiding at Foma's (Alyosha spoke so freely on purpose), all three looked at him in alarm. "They are fond of him, they are doing their best for him," thought Alyosha. "That's good." At last he found the house in Lake Street. It was a decrepit little house, sunk on one side, with three windows looking into the street, and with a muddy yard, in the middle of which stood a solitary cow. He crossed the yard and found the door opening into the passage. On the left of the passage lived the old woman of the house with her old daughter. Both seemed to be deaf. In answer to his repeated inquiry for the captain, one of them at last understood that he was asking for their lodgers, and pointed to a door across the passage. The captain's lodging turned out to be a simple cottage room. Alyosha had his hand on the iron latch to open the door, when he was struck by the strange hush within. Yet he knew from Katerina Ivanovna's words that the man had a family. "Either they are all asleep or perhaps they have heard me coming and are waiting for me to open the door. I'd better knock first," and he knocked. An answer came, but not at once, after an interval of perhaps ten seconds. "Who's there?" shouted someone in a loud and very angry voice. Then Alyosha opened the door and crossed the threshold. He found himself in a regular peasant's room. Though it was large, it was cumbered up with domestic belongings of all sorts, and there were several people in it. On the left was a large Russian stove. From the stove to the window on the left was a string running across the room, and on it there were rags hanging. There was a bedstead against the wall on each side, right and left, covered with knitted quilts. On the one on the left was a pyramid of four print-covered pillows, each smaller than the one beneath. On the other there was only one very small pillow. The opposite corner was screened off by a curtain or a sheet hung on a string. Behind this curtain could be seen a bed made up on a bench and a chair. The rough square table of plain wood had been moved into the middle window. The three windows, which consisted each of four tiny greenish mildewy panes, gave little light, and were close shut, so that the room was not very light and rather stuffy. On the table was a frying pan with the remains of some fried eggs, a half-eaten piece of bread, and a small bottle with a few drops of vodka. A woman of genteel appearance, wearing a cotton gown, was sitting on a chair by the bed on the left. Her face was thin and yellow, and her sunken cheeks betrayed at the first glance that she was ill. But what struck Alyosha most was the expression in the poor woman's eyes - a look of surprised inquiry and yet of haughty pride. And while he was talking to her husband, her big brown eyes moved from one speaker to the other with the same haughty and questioning expression. Beside her at the window stood a young girl, rather plain, with scanty reddish hair, poorly but very neatly dressed. She looked disdainfully at Alyosha as he came in. Beside the other bed was sitting another female figure. She was a very sad sight, a young girl of about twenty, but hunchback and crippled "with withered legs," as Alyosha was told afterwards. Her crutches stood in the corner close by. The strikingly beautiful and gentle eyes of this poor girl looked with mild serenity at Alyosha. A man of forty-five was sitting at the table, finishing the fried eggs. He was spare, small, and weakly built. He had reddish hair and a scanty light-coloured beard, very much like a wisp of tow (this comparison and the phrase "a wisp of tow" flashed at once into Alyosha's mind for some reason, he remembered it afterwards). It was obviously this gentleman who had shouted to him, as there was no other man in the room. But when Alyosha went in, he leapt up from the bench on which he was sitting, and, hastily wiping his mouth with a ragged napkin, darted up to Alyosha. "It's a monk come to beg for the monastery. A nice place to come to!" the girl standing in the left corner said aloud. The man spun round instantly towards her and answered her in an excited and breaking voice: "No, Varvara, you are wrong. Allow me to ask," he turned again to Alyosha, "what has brought you to our retreat?" Alyosha looked attentively at him. It was the first time he had seen him. There was something angular, flurried and irritable about him. Though he had obviously just been drinking, he was not drunk. There was extraordinary impudence in his expression, and yet, strange to say, at the same time there was fear. He looked like a man who had long been kept in subjection and had submitted to it, and now had suddenly turned and was trying to assert himself. Or, better still, like a man who wants dreadfully to hit you but is horribly afraid you will hit him. In his words and in the intonation of his shrill voice there was a sort of crazy humour, at times spiteful and at times cringing, and continually shifting from one tone to another. The question about "our retreat" he had asked, as it were, quivering all over, rolling his eyes, and skipping up so close to Alyosha that he instinctively drew back a step. He was dressed in a very shabby dark cotton coat, patched and spotted. He wore checked trousers of an extremely light colour, long out of fashion, and of very thin material. They were so crumpled and so short that he looked as though he had grown out of them like a boy. "I am Alexey Karamazov," Alyosha began in reply. "I quite understand that, sir," the gentleman snapped out at once to assure him that he knew who he was already. "I am Captain Snegiryov, sir, but I am still desirous to know precisely what has led you - " "Oh, I've come for nothing special. I wanted to have a word with you -if only you allow me." "In that case, here is a chair, sir; kindly be seated. That's what they used to say in the old comedies, 'kindly be seated,'" and with a rapid gesture he seized an empty chair (it was a rough wooden chair, not upholstered) and set it for him almost in the middle of the room; then, taking another similar chair for himself, he sat down facing Alyosha, so close to him that their knees almost touched. "Nikolay Ilyitch Snegiryov, sir, formerly a captain in the Russian infantry, put to shame for his vices, but still a captain. Though I might not be one now for the way I talk; for the last half of my life I've learnt to say 'sir.' It's a word you use when you've come down in the world." "That's very true," smiled Alyosha. "But is it used involuntarily or on purpose?" "As God's above, it's involuntary, and I usen't to use it! I didn't use the word 'sir' all my life, but as soon as I sank into low water I began to say 'sir.' It's the work of a higher power. I see you are interested in contemporary questions, but how can I have excited your curiosity, living as I do in surroundings impossible for the exercise of hospitality?" "I've come - about that business." "About what business?" the captain interrupted impatiently. "About your meeting with my brother Dmitri Fyodorovitch," Alyosha blurted out awkwardly. "What meeting, sir? You don't mean that meeting? About my 'wisp of tow,' then?" He moved closer so that his knees positively knocked against Alyosha. His lips were strangely compressed like a thread. "What wisp of tow?" muttered Alyosha. "He is come to complain of me, father!" cried a voice familiar to Alyosha - the voice of the schoolboy - from behind the curtain. "I bit his finger just now." The curtain was pulled, and Alyosha saw his assailant lying on a little bed made up on the bench and the chair in the corner under the ikons. The boy lay covered by his coat and an old wadded quilt. He was evidently unwell, and, judging by his glittering eyes, he was in a fever. He looked at Alyosha without fear, as though he felt he was at home and could not be touched. "What! Did he bite your finger?" The captain jumped up from his chair. "Was it your finger he bit?" "Yes. He was throwing stones with other schoolboys. There were six of them against him alone. I went up to him, and he threw a stone at me and then another at my head. I asked him what I had done to him. And then he rushed at me and bit my finger badly, I don't know why." "I'll thrash him, sir, at once - this minute!" The captain jumped up from his seat. "But I am not complaining at all, I am simply telling you.... I don't want him to be thrashed. Besides, he seems to be ill." "And do you suppose I'd thrash him? That I'd take my Ilusha and thrash him before you for your satisfaction? Would you like it done at once, sir?" said the captain, suddenly turning to Alyosha, as though he were going to attack him. "I am sorry about your finger, sir; but instead of thrashing Ilusha, would you like me to chop off my four fingers with this knife here before your eyes to satisfy your just wrath? I should think four fingers would be enough to satisfy your thirst for vengeance. You won't ask for the fifth one too?" He stopped short with a catch in his throat. Every feature in his face was twitching and working; he looked extremely defiant. He was in a sort of frenzy. "I think I understand it all now," said Alyosha gently and sorrowfully, still keeping his seat. "So your boy is a good boy, he loves his father, and he attacked me as the brother of your assailant.... Now I understand it," he repeated thoughtfully. "But my brother Dmitri Fyodorovitch regrets his action, I know that, and if only it is possible for him to come to you, or better still, to meet you in that same place, he will ask your forgiveness before everyone - if you wish it." "After pulling out my beard, you mean, he will ask my forgiveness? And he thinks that will be a satisfactory finish, doesn't he?" "Oh, no! On the contrary, he will do anything you like and in any way you like." "So if I were to ask his highness to go down on his knees before me in that very tavern - 'The Metropolis' it's called - or in the marketplace, he would do it?" "Yes, he would even go down on his knees." "You've pierced me to the heart, sir. Touched me to tears and pierced me to the heart! I am only too sensible of your brother's generosity. Allow me to introduce my family, my two daughters and my son - my litter. If I die, who will care for them, and while I live who but they will care for a wretch like me? That's a great thing the Lord has ordained for every man of my sort, sir. For there must be someone able to love even a man like me." "Ah, that's perfectly true!" exclaimed Alyosha. "Oh, do leave off playing the fool! Some idiot comes in, and you put us to shame!" cried the girl by the window, suddenly turning to her father with a disdainful and contemptuous air. "Wait a little, Varvara!" cried her father, speaking peremptorily but looking at them quite approvingly. "That's her character," he said, addressing Alyosha again. "And in all nature there was naught That could find favour in his eyes- or rather in the feminine - that could find favour in her eyes - . But now let me present you to my wife, Arina Petrovna. She is crippled, she is forty-three; she can move, but very little. She is of humble origin. Arina Petrovna, compose your countenance. This is Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov. Get up, Alexey Fyodorovitch." He took him by the hand and with unexpected force pulled him up. "You must stand up to be introduced to a lady. It's not the Karamazov, mamma, who... h'm... etcetera, but his brother, radiant with modest virtues. Come, Arina Petrovna, come, mamma, first your hand to be kissed." And he kissed his wife's hand respectfully and even tenderly. The girl at the window turned her back indignantly on the scene; an expression of extraordinary cordiality came over the haughtily inquiring face of the woman. "Good morning! Sit down, Mr. Tchernomazov," she said. "Karamazov, mamma, Karamazov. We are of humble origin," he whispered again. "Well, Karamazov, or whatever it is, but I always think of Tchermomazov.... Sit down. Why has he pulled you up? He calls me crippled, but I am not, only my legs are swollen like barrels, and I am shrivelled up myself. Once I used to be so fat, but now it's as though I had swallowed a needle." "We are of humble origin," the captain muttered again. "Oh, father, father!" the hunchback girl, who had till then been silent on her chair, said suddenly, and she hid her eyes in her handkerchief. "Buffoon!" blurted out the girl at the window. "Have you heard our news?" said the mother, pointing at her daughters. "It's like clouds coming over; the clouds pass and we have music again. When we were with the army, we used to have many such guests. I don't mean to make any comparisons; everyone to their taste. The deacon's wife used to come then and say, 'Alexandr Alexandrovitch is a man of the noblest heart, but Nastasya Petrovna,' she would say, 'is of the brood of hell.' 'Well,' I said, 'that's a matter of taste; but you are a little spitfire.' 'And you want keeping in your place;' says she. 'You black sword,' said I, 'who asked you to teach me?' 'But my breath,' says she, 'is clean, and yours is unclean.' 'You ask all the officers whether my breath is unclean.' And ever since then I had it in my mind. Not long ago I was sitting here as I am now, when I saw that very general come in who came here for Easter, and I asked him: 'Your Excellency,' said I, 'can a lady's breath be unpleasant?' 'Yes,' he answered; 'you ought to open a window-pane or open the door, for the air is not fresh here.' And they all go on like that! And what is my breath to them? The dead smell worse still!. 'I won't spoil the air,' said I, 'I'll order some slippers and go away.' My darlings, don't blame your own mother! Nikolay Ilyitch, how is it I can't please you? There's only Ilusha who comes home from school and loves me. Yesterday he brought me an apple. Forgive your own mother - forgive a poor lonely creature! Why has my breath become unpleasant to you?" And the poor mad woman broke into sobs, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The captain rushed up to her. "Mamma, mamma, my dear, give over! You are not lonely. Everyone loves you, everyone adores you." He began kissing both her hands again and tenderly stroking her face; taking the dinner-napkin, he began wiping away her tears. Alyosha fancied that he too had tears in his eyes. "There, you see, you hear?" he turned with a sort of fury to Alyosha, pointing to the poor imbecile. "I see and hear," muttered Alyosha. "Father, father, how can you - with him! Let him alone!" cried the boy, sitting up in his bed and gazing at his father with glowing eyes. "Do give over fooling, showing off your silly antics which never lead to anything! shouted Varvara, stamping her foot with passion. "Your anger is quite just this time, Varvara, and I'll make haste to satisfy you. Come, put on your cap, Alexey Fyodorovitch, and I'll put on mine. We will go out. I have a word to say to you in earnest, but not within these walls. This girl sitting here is my daughter Nina; I forgot to introduce her to you. She is a heavenly angel incarnate... who has flown down to us mortals,... if you can understand." "There he is shaking all over, as though he is in convulsions!" Varvara went on indignantly. "And she there stamping her foot at me and calling me a fool just now, she is a heavenly angel incarnate too, and she has good reason to call me so. Come along, Alexey Fyodorovitch, we must make an end." And, snatching Alyosha's hand, he drew him out of the room into the street.