#Easy remedies for Control mind Husband

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remedy (viii) — sam winchester

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summary: you find sam ten years later, or he finds you, and things change forever— tags: major character deaths, 70% angst, i broke my own heart, case-fic, grieving, mourning, slow burn, praying, very long 13k, though it’s extremely fast paced. general surgeon!fem!reader.

ten years later

“Hey, Miss Moseley,” you call out as the older woman smiles at you and Emmy, it’s the same warm gesture every end of the week as you and your daughter pick up the groceries.

“Hey, sugar. How’s my little angel?” She leans down to kiss your daughter's head, seeing as you’d made it clear to every living, breathing person that no one gets to kiss her anywhere but there. “Oh and how’s Mark? I heard about the promotion he got, that’s wonderful, truly.”

It was unexpected, but yes, your husband got the biggest promotion of his career working at the law firm in town. Obviously you’ve never been prouder (except maybe when your oldest said ‘mama’ first) but it has been with its ups and downs. He stays later nights and it’s a lot more pressure, though now you don’t exactly live paycheck by paycheck, even if you haven’t been doing that anyways, but now you really don’t and you’re grateful. 

“He’s great, thank you. You heard right, I'm proud of his hard work.” She shakes her hand around as if to tell you ‘who cares’ and you know the woman well enough to guess what she’s about to say next.

“And the pay?” Yeah, you were right.

“We’re grateful, Miss Moseley. Thank you for checking in.” You reply politely as the last of her things are ringed up and the cashier shops her away. She kisses your cheek as a goodbye as you ring your things up.

“She means well, you know.” The eighteen year old says from behind the counter and you can’t help but laugh. Not exactly at her, but, you know.

“Of course she does, Missouri is a sweetheart, we’re just not too sure about things ourselves. How are you doing in your senior year?” You deflect.

“‘M okay. Just passed my English final and Maths— Biology and Chemistry are what's left.” She replies, waving to Emmy. She laughs, waving back with an enthusiasm she saves especially for teenage girls. “Hopefully I can actually graduate this year.”

“You will, sweetheart,” you reassure, the nickname coming easy to you. It always did. “I’m sure of it. Call me anytime, okay?” She nods with a smile, handing you back your card and you carry the bags to the car. 

Emmy’s holding onto your blue dress, with little white flowers all over it, the one you like to wear most of the time considering how hot it’s been getting. Though your older daughter doesn’t mind the heat (for whatever unholy reason), the rest of you are minding it a whole damn lot, you begged Mark to let you change practically your entire closet and he hadn’t argued much. 

When the bags are in the trunk you strap Emmy in the back and turn on a country playlist Mark had made you a while ago. Though when you listen to it it reminds you of your days in Stanford. 

As you park your jeep, you can feel your throat constrict and the tip of your nose redden. It’s hard not to notice the shiny black impala in your drive way. And it is there. Just there. Who put it there? Why would the universe torture you like this? What the hell even kind of joke is this—

“Mommy?” Emmy whines out, clearly starting to feel the effect of the heat with the A/C working only halfway. 

“Yeah, baby.”

“Wanna show Daddy.” She says as she waves her iPad to show you the drawing she made. You should, in fact, go inside. And find out what the hell he’s doing in your house. 

When you take Emmy’s hand it takes everything in you to control your breathing. You’ve been better than when you were in college. It had been— a rough couple of years to say the least, but you powered through them with a determination you didn’t know you had in you. Then you started your internship and found Mark, you had dated for a year before he proposed and of course you had said yes. Now, he’s coming back and he’ll— God, you just know that he’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to bring together. 

Emmy runs through the door and straight to her dad with a yell. “Baby, no shouting.” You lecture loosely, shutting the door behind you as the three men in your living room stand up to greet you, Emmy already forgetting about her drawing and running up to her room.

And that’s when you decide how you should approach it. It’s the only way nothing will turn sour. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You eye your husband, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You haven’t even looked at them yet but their presence is all consuming that you actually gulp before Mark puts a hand in your back so you’re facing them.

You find his eyes first. And it looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You don’t hear a single damn thing your husband is saying because you and Sam are staring into the other’s eyes in a way that makes you think you may be cheating right in front of him. 

Sam’s changed so drastically that it brings you to a violent halt. His hair’s the first thing you notice, it’s grown to just above his shoulder, and it’s tamer, no more of that shaggy haircut he had ruffled everywhere. It fits him with the black suit he has on, that and his height. You’ve grown maybe an inch, he looks so much taller. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe he just looks that good, either way, it’s mesmerizing.

When Mark says your name twice you snap out of it, shaking your head with a hum.

“Agents Plant and Page.” Agents who the fuck now?

“Excuse me— what?” Your husband narrows his eyes at you, but when you don’t budge he lets out a small awkward laugh. 

“I’m sorry, agents, it’s the heat, really bad this week and she gets these migraines.”

Sam nods, completely professional and understanding as he talks to your husband, “We understand. I know how migraines can be,” yeah, ‘cause you used to have them, “it’s no problem. We should get going, we’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to talk to my wife. I can go get the bags from the car, leave y’all to it.”

“That’s really not—”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cut Sam off, “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Mark kisses your lips this time and you’re stunned for a second before kissing back, but it’s brief and he nods at the gentlemen in politeness before leaving. You’re left with both of them. “Dean,” You announce shakily, “Sam.” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiles, like it’s nostalgic to see you, and you suppose it is. You’re not angry with either of them, especially not Dean. Despite his flirty nature, he hadn’t been rude to you and he’d respected you every time you met him. He moves past the coffee table to take your hand but you, to your absolute fucking surprise, pull him in for a hug. 

Dean’s grown up too. He looks it, his voice is way lower, his stubble and those damn suits they're both wearing. He lets out a laugh, hugging back. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, releasing your grip to place a quick kiss in your hair. When he moves away, Sam’s standing behind him. He looks— all 6 foot something of him— awkward and unsure and it might be the most heartbreaking thing you’ve seen. Sam’s changed in appearance, he’s grown up, sure, but at Stanford he was confident. He wasn’t cocky but he knew his stuff and didn’t back down, this Sam’s curling up into himself the second you came in the room (or when you first bothered to look at him anyway). 

“Hey, Sam.” You smile, repeating the same gesture you had with Dean, except it’s different, so so different with him. His hand’s on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. The same way you hug everyone else. Then why does his embrace feel more intimate? And his cologne, God. 

He pulls away a few seconds later (maybe, who know, it could have been hours). 

“We didn’t know—”

“Yeah, I figured as much with the whole agents thing.” You’re not stupid, you’ve seen the news, Dean and Sam are wanted in some states, for a long list that you never bothered checking for the sole reason that you never thought you’d see them and you had such an exceptional picture of them in your head that you didn’t want to ruin it.

But the truth is, you also don’t believe that they would do it. Sam and Dean wanted for theft? Murder? you don’t buy it. Sam had told you how dangerous his job was, you know it has to come with consequences. 

“So why are you here?”

“We’re investigating something.” You frown. No animal attacks here as far as you know.

“Investigating what?”

“There was a girl. She died in the neighborhood last year, Carla.” 

Your face falls and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “Get out.” Dean’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. “Get out, both of you.”

“Hey—”

“No, you’re joking. You came in here to ask my husband about his dead niece. And you made him think you’re fucking FBI, which is illegal by the way, Mr. Stanford Lawyer. And for what? Is this all just for fun?” You’re praying your voice doesn’t get too loud but you can’t help the pit of anger in your stomach. They can’t do this. They can’t.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Sam speaks up, his eyebrows furrowed together. Sam speaks in a much lower tone than he did in Stanford. It’s less urgent, more patient and understanding. He’s listening more than he is talking. It’s a noticeable change from the man you once knew, “we’re trying to find out what happened to her, I swear. We’re here to help.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but there haven’t been any animals around lately so this isn’t up your alley— which by the way, fuck you both.” You don’t remember ever being this immature but damn it, do the Winchesters get a ride out of you. “You’re both lying to my husband and expect me to do what? Welcome you with open arms?” The fact that you did goes unsaid.

There’s a deadly kind of silence that overcomes the three of you. You’re waiting for an explanation, they’re looking at each other like they don’t want to give one, and your oldest daughter just woke up from her nap and is walking down the stairs. She’s on the last step, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she notices the two big men in suits and frowns. “Mommy…” she mumbles, clearly ready to go back upstairs.

At least the kid has good instincts. “Hey, sweetheart.” You smile slightly, leaving both of them in the living room to walk over to her, kneeling down. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“Sound. Where’s daddy?”

“Outside. You wanna go and play with Emmy or are you gonna go back to sleep?” She shrugs, looks back at Sam and Dean then you, questions written all over her pretty little face. “Those are the police, they’re trying to help us. It’s okay, you can go back upstairs and I’ll bring you a snack, okay?” She nods and you get up, kiss her head, and let her run back upstairs.

When you face them, not moving closer, they both get the message. You want to say it’s easy, watching them walk to the front door, kicking them out, losing Sam again. But it isn’t. And you can’t help what you do next. 

“Sam,” it’s just his name. That’s all you said, but God, you can practically feel how tense he just got, standing in place. He looks at Dean who nods in understanding and walks out of the house. Sam faces you, you’re closer than you think you should be.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Or Mark. And— Dean and I, we had no idea this was your house or that she was your niece—”

“Mark’s niece.”

“Right. We didn’t know. We asked around and they gave us Mark's last name, we thought it was a coincidence. And there’s no pictures—”

“I don’t like hanging pictures in the house.” You cut him off, not sure why you’re confessing like it’s a sin, but the need to explain yourself to Sam has apparently not gone away completely. He nods in understanding and sighs. “I didn’t mean to kick you guys out, I just hate how much you’ve lied to me, and I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what it’s about.”

He slips up, “Baby, I wish I could tell you—”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Maybe it’s Stanford all over again. Have you really grown up? Have you really changed for the better? Will you ever be able to let go of Sam? You haven’t thought about him for a long time, but seeing him in front of you— in fact you haven’t thought of him since you two broke up. Maybe you’re not mentally ready for this.

But more than that, you’re not letting anyone get between you and your husband.

“I know.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I hope you guys find out what happened with Carla.” 

Sam’s about to say something. A rebuttal, probably. Maybe then you can both have an actual conversation. But he decides against it and opens the door, walking out. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You see him nod at Mark and Dean end the conversation with your husband to get back in the impala. You watch them drive off before shutting your eyes, grounding yourself. You need to calm down. Obviously, you told Mark that you talked to someone before, and had a brief relationship with them, it wasn’t a secret, but you don’t think he knows that it’s the same guy who just pretended to be FBI and talked to him about his niece. 

“What did they ask about?” Your husband asks as he gets inside, Emmy on his right while he's holding two hands full of groceries. 

“Carla. You didn’t tell them she was your niece?” Now that you notice it, they were surprised to find out Carla's in any way related to you and Mark. He shrugs and moves to the kitchen but you follow him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause they wouldn't take it seriously. The police thought I was overreacting since we were related but the FBI actually listened, and they believed me. I don’t want them to think emotions are taking over.” And the mocking way he says the word makes your heart clench.

You fell in love with Mark pretty quickly— or, he fell in love with you. And you eventually did too, with the sweet gestures and the kind comments, he was an incredible man, an even better husband that you’re proud to call yours. But he also had some issues, and trouble when it came to his family. While you guys do live in the same neighborhood as them, he doesn't like them. And for good reason, they're assholes. But he does love them.

He isn’t actually an ‘emotional guy’ and to label him as such— well, Mark is old-school. He won’t do well with that. His manhood and all that— and you’re not even saying it in a condescending way, you know how he was raised, it’s the one thing he’ll never back down from. But he’s been so good to you over the past five years, you’ve had your ups and downs, of course you did, but you couldn’t think of a better husband.

Can you? Can you think of someone you’d love more and want to spend the rest of your life with more than Mark? The man who traveled all the way back to your home country to ask your father for your hand in marriage? 

“I’m— I’ll get started on dinner. They seem like good people, and they’re looking into it.” You smile slightly, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, putting the groceries away, your oldest daughter has come down to even help you and spend time with Emmy.

And maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just take it to the grave, but God, you can’t help but call Gen’s number when it’s ten and you’re on your couch all alone. Mark is out with friends, your kids are in their room and you can’t stop yourself from calling a number you’d left abandoned for a year. An entire year. 

It rings once. Twice. And when you hear her voice through the speaker you bite back tears. “Hello?”

“Hey— hey, Gen.” A relieved sort of laugh comes from the other line and it eases you into the conversation if only a little.

“Hi, sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a while, how are Mark and the kids?” You were ready for an argument, and maybe that’s why you called in the first place, to get what’s been coming for you. You deserve it after you abandoned her when she needed you the most. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect normal with Gen. You don’t deserve it.

“Yeah. They’re okay. How about you and Rue?” As if the universe wanted to make a point, Rue, you guess, stole her mother’s phone from her hand and ran around with it, asking you how you’re doing and that she misses you. Rue’s almost six, but she’s as much of a troublemaker as she was at four.

“Rue’s fine!” She yells across the room, then she takes the phone and you can hear her better. “She’s great, just got into fifth grade, actually.” 

You smile, the tears running down your cheeks without your consent. “That’s— great, Gen.”

She picks up on the crack in your voice and sighs. “Sweetie. Why’d you call now? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I feel so bad I haven’t called and I promise, I’m so sorry, Gen. You know I love her and I didn’t mean to do this.” you cut yourself off, scared you’re talking over her, but she doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “And I miss you and my little niece. I miss Rue and the kids, of course, they also miss her and I’ve been such a—”

“Nuh, uh. None of that here. You were grieving.”

You scoff, a hand slapping the tears away. “No, you were grieving.”

“Jess was as much of my girlfriend as she was your best friend. I’ve known her longer, but she was always your soulmate, and I never, for a second, held that against you.” It hurts knowing that what she’s saying is true. You don’t want to believe her because what have you done for her to love you this way? Unconditionally.

“I know. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn’t even say her name and I’m, I’m so scared. Even now, I’m always so scared, and I think about her all the time.”

“I think about her too…” you want to say you’re imagining the crack in her voice, that it’s a slip up that means nothing. But truthfully, Gen’s only ever cried with you. She’s not close to her parents and despite her multitude of friends, most of them had drifted after college. Not the three of you. Not you, Jess and Gen. 

You wish you could say it stayed the same after Jess passed away, but you did leave her. and you can’t find it in yourself to say that you’d do it differently. Because you used your grief to be a good mother this past year, you spent so much time with the kids. Even with Carla gone too. You and Mark kept it together.

You’re not sure how seeing Sam broke you the most of the events.

“She loves you. I think— we just have to remember her love, right?” Gen sniffles and you imagine her nodding her head, a hand running through her hair like she usually is when she’s sad.

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, but—” Gen breathes heavily through her nose. “But why’d you call? You haven’t— it’s been a year, what’s going on?” 

“I, uh, saw someone. Today.”

“Who?”

“Sam Winchester.” 

“The criminal?”

Explaining to Gen about Sam pretending to be FBI and how he came to ‘investigate’ Carla’s death after being ‘wanted’ in a few states almost gives her a heart attack. You want to share her worry about the safety of your family when he’s in proximity, but Sam looked all but broken when he was standing at your doorstep. 

“So I kind of threw them out and now they’re giving Mark hope again that they’ll find out what happened, but just— it sucks. He’s such a liar and I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, but, maybe you should report it to the police, you know?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Police? He isn’t even wanted in here. I think it’s in… I don’t know Tennessee?”

“Still. He could be dangerous and he knows where you live now.” You aren’t sure what to think. Is she right? Is Sam dangerous? He doesn’t look it. 

“Sure. Sure, Gen, I’ll see what I can do. I just, wanted to talk to you and maybe see if we can go out, you know? If you want, if you’re free.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Next Friday? We can go to Lilo’s Diner, if you want.“ Before Jess passed away when you got married, you couldn’t help but find an apartment next to here’s and Gen’s. In hindsight, it was an impulsive decision since Mark told you to choose the location, but you couldn’t help wanting to be next to her. But the real kicker was that before you settled down, you had completely forgotten that where you are right now, Lawrence, Kansas, is Sam’s hometown. 

“Yeah. That’s good, I don’t mind.” You both say your goodbye’s, and it’s a little tear-filled, but it gets the job done. 

You’re not completely convinced that you’ll give Sam in, but you know you need to consider it. If your daughters are ever in danger… you don’t know you’d do. You sigh, getting up and dimming the lights. “God, I wish you could— I need help.” You’re done crying, you just need help, “just— please, i wish I could just— I love him but I don’t even know if he’s it for me, I wish I could think without him in the picture, fuck.”

And if cursing while trying to pray isn’t message enough for you to just go to bed, you don’t know what is.

“Mommy? Mommy!” You stir from your sleep. It’s been forced upon you to be a light sleeper since you’ve had your kids, and one of them shouting your name alerts you. 

Emmy’s jumping on your chest, “Door. Mommy, door.” You groan, running a hand through your untamed hair and getting up groggily. At least she’s in a good mood for whatever reason.

You put on a shirt that you haven’t crumpled in your sleep and take a hair tie with you downstairs as you attempt to make it look decent, swinging the door open before you can ask who it is. 

Oh. “Sam?”

“Good morning.” There’s no Dean this time, just Sam. Just very tall and intimidating Sam looking at your with the most innocent look you’ve ever seen but you still can’t help clutching your daughter to your leg, mumbling about her going upstairs but she doesn’t listen. “I— I’m sorry, I came to tell you about… Mark.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head in question and confusion because mark is upstairs, right? He’s in your bed, right next to you. You just hadn’t checked, that’s all. “What about him? He’s fine.”

Sam frowns, loosening his tie. Maybe you should loosen the collar around your neck. Where is Mark? He was just out with friends last night and you’d gone to sleep after praying, you must’ve missed his call telling you he’ll spend the night elsewhere. Except he’s never done that. Mark’s never spent the night anywhere other than right next to you since you’ve gotten married.

But it’s fine, you’re overreacting and Sam is here to tell you Mark was found drunk or something. He won’t get arrested. You need him. His kids need him. “Hey, hey, you with me? Mark’s— I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re out of breath even if you’ve just gotten out of bed, “what do you mean you’re sorry? What did you do? Where is he?”

Emmy’s tugging on your pants, even if you can hardly feel it, but you do feel Sam stepping into your house, his hands moving closer before you flinch a way from his touch, in a result Emmy’s hands is forced away from your leg. You apologize to your little girl, leaning down to scoop her in your arms. 

“Mark’s—”

“Shut up, Sam. Stop it. Where is he?”

You can see his heart breaking, you can feel it. Maybe from his eyes alone, even. But it doesn’t even register to you, because why is he sad? What does he have to be upset about? 

“They can’t find him. He’s… gone.”

“Gone where? Is he at work? It’s— only eight or something—”

“It’s eleven.” Your breath hitches and you shake your head. What does that even mean coming from a liar? Sam’s nothing but a liar, he always has been he’s— 

“Where are the police?” he says your name, soft and you shout, “Where are the police?” Your daughter flinches at your tone and cuddles her head into your chest. “Don’t— I’ll report you. You and Dean, if you don’t tell me what you did. What did you do?”

It’s futile. They didn’t do anything. Deep down you know that. 

But you’re not sure if you can listen to ‘deep down’ when your husband is not next to you. Calming and comforting you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, putting her down, “Sam, where is he?” He doesn’t step closer, brushes a hand down his face, “Sam.” You try, one last time before you’re sobbing, hitting at his chest. “Where is he? Where is— Mark, where is he! Sam!” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell you that everything will be okay and that Mark’s only gone for the day. He holds your body close to his and you bury your head into his chest, your tears wet against your face as you fist your hands in his shirt. Your eyes burn, they’re hard to open. Maybe it’s for the best. 

Your world doesn’t spin often, but when it does, you have Mark. You quit your first job, Mark’s there. You’re low on money, Mark’s there. Your kids seem like they hate you, he’s by your side.

What are you supposed to do now? What are you supposed to do other than pray for him back?

Because you did this. You prayed yesterday and now look what happened, he’s gone. Just like you wished for, even if you’d don’t really mean it then. You mean it now, to have him back.

Sam lets go of you eventually, to get you a glass of water and coax your daughter into her room. You’re not sure what the time is, just that your eyes couldn’t get more swollen if you tried, and you will. 

“Here.” He hands you a cup and you don’t look up at him as he takes the seat next to you again making you briefly wonder if you’re having an out of body experience. You could be. You must be. 

“I should call the police.” You say through sniffles and Sam sighs. “You should… go, I guess. Since you’re not real police.”

“I’ll stay. We talked to them anyways and they think we’re FBI so— ”

“But I’ll tell them.” It’s low. Defeated. Sam doesn’t speak for a second and you don’t want to imagine the look on his face. You can’t. “Just go.”

His scoff shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. “No. You’re not pushing me away when you need me.” He tilts your head up, his finger hooking under your chin, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.”

“It’s— it’s not like that, right now. Sam, go.”

“Tell them. Call the police, make them come here, and tell them I’m not FBI, tell them my real name, I don’t care, they can arrest me when I know you’re okay.” 

Is it fair to say you never want to be okay if it means Sam leaving? “My kids.” You whisper, as a thought. Something you put out there. 

“Dean can take care of them if you want us to go to the police.” You nod, touching your cheek to check if you’re still crying. Your eyes are so raw you can’t even tell at this point. Sam takes his phone out to call Dean but you hold his wrist. 

“Gen. Call Gen.” He gapes in surprise, is about to argue, but seems to see something on your face because he pulls up her number from your phone. You think she’s not going to respond as the phone starts to run out of rings but when she finally does you collapse with a sigh, one hand on your heart, the other holding Sam’s arm in support. And you’re fucking sat down.

“Gen. Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” Shit. Shit. She doesn’t like Sam. Shit. “Yeah— oh. Yeah, she threatened already. Look, Mark’s gone and we can’t find him, she’s asking if you can come over and watch her kids.”

You don’t hear the conversation. You don’t hear except white static as you leave Sam on the couch and go to your kids’ room. Your oldest is on her IPad. The youngest is playing with her blocks. They both look at you expectantly for food and you give them a watery smile. “Aunt Gen is coming over. She’ll get you breakfast, okay?”

They both seem pleased, but your oldest isn’t stupid. She’s only four but Mark had been gifted as a child. Not enough to skip grades, but he was intelligent, both emotionally and academically. And apparently your oldest has inherited that because she walks up to you with a smile.

“You’re okay, Mommy.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or not but you wipe your face in case it’s showing anything other than that fact. “We will have fun with Genny.”

“No, baby, I’m going somewhere and then we’ll have fun with Genny, but you’re staying alone first.”

“I will take care of Emmy.” Your heart clenches as you nod quickly, taking her in for a hug so she doesn’t see the tears. 

“Good job, Jess.” Even saying her name. She’s your daughter, she isn’t even really Jess but saying her name… you can’t do this right now.

When you get back down dressed for the station, Sam’s in the kitchen cooking. “I’m dressed. we should go.”

He looks back to see you are, in fact, dressed. He hands you a cup of water, “drink this and we’ll go.”

You frown but oblige anyway. You’re a doctor, it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing, with the amount of tears you’ve cried, you’d think you’re dehydrated too. “I’ll text Gen that there’s omelets. She can make sandwiches when she’s here.”

You acknowledge the words, handing him the cup. He locks the door behind him just as Gen parks her car and it’s the calmest you’ve felt all morning. At least your kids will be safe. You give her a hug that lasts about two seconds then walk to the Impala as fast as you can, certain you won’t be driving in this condition.

The police station is a whirlwind of screaming and yelling. No one’s telling you enough, you need to know now, and you might have accidentally called Sam his real name once, though you’re hoping no one caught it. Four hours later you’re crying and shaking your head in the lobby. 

The lady at the desk tries to calm you down while Sam talks to them inside, “Please, Miss, you need to remain calm while we—”

“My husband is gone, just off the face of the earth, how the fuck does that happen?”

“We’re not sure.” You look back hoping it’s Sam but find an older looking guy. Darker skin and maybe even a little taller than Sam? Though that must be impossible, they could be the same height. “His friends all say he was on his way home the last time they saw him and we found his car by a neighborhood next to yours but it was parked. He could have just went somewhere else.”

“I called him a thousand times on my way here and Mark never spends the night out of the house.”

“Have you considered a different possibility?” He asks, taking a step closer and you suddenly get intimidated by the demeanor if not his height, “maybe he did it on purpose. To spend the night somewhere else.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you? Are you all really that bad at your job that the only excuse you can come up with is him cheating? Who the hell gives you the right to—”

“We’re merely covering all our basis.”

“No you’re a bunch of—” Someone clears their throat so loudly it makes you jump. Jump right into their arms— into Sam’s arms.

“She’s worked up, considering.” The police, whoever the fuck that man is nods understandably and you’re ready to elbow Sam as you stare daggers at the one in front of you. “But she doesn’t make a point. It’s not likely Mister Davis is having an affair,” he moves your body out of the way to stand toe-to-toe with the man, “and even if he is, do you think it’s smart to threaten his wife with it?”

“Threaten? You’ve got it wrong, Agent.”

“Please don’t speak to Misses Davis again, it’s clear you can’t handle this case.” Sam places both hands on your shoulders to walk you out of the station and when you’re finally alone you slap his hands away. 

“What the hell? What about Mark—”

“They don’t have anything on him. We called everyone, we tried to track his phone but it’ll take a while. Me and Dean tried tracking it before I came over anyway and we couldn’t find it, they won’t have better luck. They usually put them in warehouses so I told them to check all the ones in the area. Dean is on it too. Look, we need to talk.” 

“Warehouse— what? Does now seem like the time for talking?” You scold. Even Sam's speaking in code.

“Did you… wish for something yesterday?”

Your heart slows. “Like what?”

“Like… wanting him gone.”

Your heart stops.

You tend to run things over in your head a lot.

“Mark? Mark, come back in, the kids don’t need—”

“No way. If my angel says she needs a cookie, we’re getting her a cookie.” You sigh affectionately, a smile threatening to split your face open. He’s been so good since you’ve gotten married, but you thought that would all stop the second you told him you’re pregnant. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been more engaged, beautiful with your kids, even years later. 

He’s the best father you could have dreamed of. He’s a damn good husband too, but Mark is… complicated. His family is complicated. He grew up in such a toxic environment that during the first year of dating him, he’d cursed you out in front of his entire family. You got married anyways, he’s a good man, and you know he is. He’s changing slowly, trying to better himself because he has you. 

And it isn’t even something he’s just ‘saying’, you know that because now? Four years later, Mark would eat up anyone in his family that says one word about you, whether it be one of his sisters or one of his brothers’ wives.

Two hours later Mark comes back with Jess and two boxes of cookies. When you put Jess to bed he hands you a box of your favorite chocolate, the expensive kind. And it isn’t like you’re broke, you’re doing okay to spoil yourselves every once in a while, but you’re also saving up for when the kids grow up since you know they’ll be more demanding than they are now. So while it didn’t put a dent in anything, it was unnecessary. But he did it. He did it and he kissed you and you’re pretty sure that was the night Emmy came into your lives. Or would be coming in nine months.

Sometimes you wish you could stop ruining things over in your head.

“Come back to me, fuck, come back.” Sam’s saying your name over and over as your eyes flutter open. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” You groan, a hand coming up to touch your head before he stops you. “What happened?”

“You blacked out and fell on the concrete. They did an X-ray, it came back okay but you’re not eating enough. Don’t touch your head though.”

“Why?” you reply stubbornly though you're grateful he cared enough to get you to the emergency room as fake FBI. Speaking of, you guys should probably head out. “Doesn't matter, let's go home. I'll pay the—”

“I already paid, let's go.” you frown as he helps you up. Thankfully, you don't need any assistance walking, not that Sam gets the message, his hand on your lower back as he nods at the receptionist.

The car ride is as silent as you expected it to be with your multitude of questions. About Mark, Sam, your kids. About everything. The most important one is where the hell is Mark, but every time you think of that you're back to crying. The second is where did Sam get the money to cover your bill? Seeing as he's not a lawyer or anything. 

“You okay?” He asks, giving you a glance before his eyes are back on the road. He must realize how stupid the question is because he follows it up with: “We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean’s already—”

“How? How are you and Dean— I don’t even know if Dean went to college,” no offense, he just doesn’t look the type, “and you all but dropped out of law. On what earth will the two of you find my husband?”

“Look—”

“Real answers!” You scream, slamming your hand down on your leg, the friction from your jeans sting as you take it back. “Real answers Sam, or I swear God…”

He sighs, parking on the side of the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“You passed out.”

“Try me, because my husband is missing and I left my kids with Gen who I haven’t seen in almost a year and now I’m sitting next to Sam Winchester from Stanford—”

“It’s a curse.”

“What.”

When someone says something is a curse they usually follow it up with trying to sell you some oils for way too high that will ‘break the curse’. But that’s not what Sam is doing. Sam is talking to you like it’s logical. Like he’s sane. He’s telling you, with a straight fucking face, that monsters are real and that after he was born here a witch placed a curse on the town.

He’s not trying to sell you anything except that this is the truth. To him, this is real. And he’s looking at you like you’d be stupid not to believe that a witch placed a curse on an entire town so that whatever someone wishes, it comes true.

You wished for better mental stability everyday but that never came.

“Sam,” you sigh sympathetically, “look, I don’t know what happened before you graduated, but you’re a good man, you should not let—”

“What? No! What I'm telling you is real! Monsters and werewolves, vampires, witches, they’re all real. Now you need to think before you answer, did you wish for anything yesterday? Anything regarding Mark?”

“Wish? Are you— no! Of course not.”

“Please, you need to level with me here. Anything at all.” You should get out of the car, slam the door right in his face, and tell everyone that Sam Winchester— straight A student in Stanford— has officially gone crazy. And you’re witnessing it first hand. 

You don’t end up doing any of that except for slamming the door in his face. That, he deserves. For lying and for finding you and giving you hope about your husband when he’s obviously gone crazy and for making you leave your daughters when you could be with them right now. 

He gets out of the car, and when you glance over at him he looks like he’s going to try and convince you of something again but his eyes widen. When you face whatever it is that he’s staring at— it’s just Missouri.

“Missouri?” He asks, frowning and you start to notice that this is, in fact, his hometown. He probably knows a lot of the older locals. “What are you doing here? I thought we told you to stay inside ‘till we find whoever cursed the town.”

Now you’re really confused. Where on earth does get off playing with an old lady’s head? “I know you did not just call me old, sweetie.” 

What. The. Hell.

“See!” Sam can’t help but let out with a relieved sigh. As if that actually shows anything other than you’re seriously creeped out.

“No reason to be creeped, darling, but Sam’s right. Monsters exist and a witch did curse this godforsaken town.”

“How did you—”

“I’m psychic.” Right. And you’re Beyoncé. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. I heard you sing early in the morning and even the birds couldn’t take it.”

“Rude— and also how the fuck—”

“I can read minds. Though I don’t usually, it seemed like the only way to get you to believe poor Sam. He’s a good man,“ he seems to be getting told that a bunch, “and he only means to help. Him and Dean are hunters.”

Is the sun too hot? Probably, considering it’s the sun. Maybe you should sit in the shade. Or pass out. Passing out sounds better than finishing this conversation. Missouri sighs, a hand on Sam’s cheek. “It was good seeing you, sweetie. Get her home and tell her everything she needs to know. She gets migraines—”

“I know.”

“Good. Get her anything she needs but especially some cold air.” 

“To sum it up,” you gulp down the rest of your cup before facing Sam, “Monsters are real. You’re a hunter. Your dad died, and Dean never went to college?” 

“Sure, I guess. Is that all you got? That’s a very… random  summary.”

“Right but if Dean’s never went to college and Monsters are real, I think the apocalypse starting really doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” Apparently by monsters he also meant Angels. And prophets. And too many things he just told you— like Lucifer and Micheal the archangels and so so so many things. 

He chuckles, refilling your glass. “What is it with the Dean and college thing with you.”

You shrug, taking the cup with a small thanks. You’re probably going to need to go to the bathroom soon with how much he’s been keeping you hydrated. “I don’t know, he seems smart, I’m surprised ‘s all. can we call him and ask what he found yet?”

Sam’s face falls like you slapped him and he sighs. “The wish— I’ll tell you what I think happened, okay?” Not okay. “You wished for Mark to disappear or to go yesterday while he was coming back from the night out and the witch— the way her curse works is that she has demons working for her. Demons chained to this town to do her dirty work for her—”

“Sam, people wish for a million dollars everyday, they don’t actually get it.”

“These are demons, it isn’t ’you wish for something’, you get it. It’s ‘you curse someone out’, they get it.” You didn’t mean to curse him out. You hadn’t even really wished for anything, just prayed. And the praying wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t like you wanted Mark gone, you just wanted answers for whatever’s going on in your heart. “Carla,” Sam runs a hand over his mouth, like it’s paining him to tell you this, to explain to you why your niece died. “A teacher cursed her out in school the day before she was gone.”

No. No, there’s just no fucking way. Missouri is almost eighty something, why on earth would she lie, though?

“Please, I know it’s scary and it’s hard to believe but I need you to trust me. What did you wish for yesterday?”

“I— I don’t even remember—”

“Anything. Anything at all—”

“I wished he was out of the picture.” His breath hitches. Yours almost comes to a stop. “But— I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. I asked— I prayed that I could think clearly without thinking of him. I didn’t want him to go, Sam, I swear—”

His eyes soften as he pulls you to his chest, “I know. I know, sweetheart.” 

Maybe the crying won’t ever stop.

“Dean found the witch. Or at least he thinks. We can’t kill the demons until the witch breaks the chains so I’m going to go help him follow the lead, are you okay to stay alone?” Sam says when he comes back into the room after a short phone call with his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re nowhere near fucking fine. You’re the furthest point away from ‘fine’. But Sam is going to… go kill demons? Play dress up with Dean? Who knows anymore. So you let him go with a goodbye and ’stay safe’. As you close the front door, you give it your back and Jess is standing there with her school book in hand. 

“Where’s Daddy?”

Oh. God. You don’t even— you can’t possibly think of a way to tell your kids their father is gone. The entire time Sam had explained the supernatural thing, not once had he brought up that Mark might still be out there somewhere. 

How do you tell your daughter you killed her father?

“Jess, dad’s out right now. He’s very sick, and we can’t see him ‘till he gets better.” She frowns, tilting her head in question— you’re sure you have no answers to cover it. “but ‘till then, we’ll…”

Maybe you should be holding yourself together a little more for your children. They shouldn’t see you break apart because who will take care of them? But it hits you. You’ve spent the whole day looking for Mark and being so sure he’s out there somewhere that you believed Sam when he said he was taken by a demon.

But the fact of the matter still stands. Mark is gone. Your husband is gone. 

And maybe it shouldn’t hit you so hard when you killed him.

The next four hours go by in a blur. Your kids are fine, they’re drawing and coloring. They’re happy they get to miss school today and you’re pacing the halls, wishing you’d taken up Gen on her offer to stay with you. How did she get through this? How did she get through this alone? 

You haven’t even called your parents, or Mark’s. His siblings. A funeral. This is so real. It’s happening, you’re losing— you lost your husband. He’s gone and you didn’t even get a warning. Where was your warning? 

Maybe you should lay down for a few hours. Your starting to see things move around in the windows.

It’s officially freak-out-hour. Twelve AM. You call Sam twice before he answers.

“I think my house is haunted.” You’ve never found your voice that shaky in your life.

“You what? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. In their room, but the lights keep flickering and I keep seeing something moving.”

“Shit. Do you have salt? A lot of salt?” 

“Some. Enough for food, I haven’t stocked up for a demon battle.”

“Get as much as you can and make a circle. Ghosts can’t cross salt circles.”

“What if it’s a demon?”

“There are— are you sure? Are you sure there’s something? Did you piss anyone off today?”

You think. Hard. “I don’t—” Oh. “The police station guy.”

“No, no. Fuck! Make the circle, get in it, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and the circle comes out uneven and sloppy. You’re shaking so much by the time you’re done you don’t notice it’s only small enough to fit your kids. When you go check on them, they aren’t in their room.

“Jess? Emmy?” Sam’s voice wakes you up from your nap against the hard wall. That’s why your head is pounding. “Hey, hey, where’s mommy?” That’s all you hear before his heavy steps run up the stairs and he finds you in the hallway. 

“Fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, hoping to ease him, though that’s the least of your concerns. “Are they okay? Are Emmy and Jess okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to engulf you in a surprising hug that you return with no hesitation. You were hallucinating. You never thought you’d be so thankful for hallucinating. “Are you,” he’s shaking. His words anyways, his hands are too still for your liking. “Are you okay? I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and I came here as fast as I could. I thought something happened to you—”

“I haven’t eaten, and I’m so tired—did, did you kill the witch?” You sound crazy. You sound stupid and twelve.

And yet, the second his soft, “Yes.” Is out, you visibly relax in his arms. He’s holding you, your head on his chest, and it’s the calmest you’ve felt in the past twenty four hours.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“How do I know you’re real? How do I know you’re not… a monster or possessed.”

“Tests,” he sighs. Sam always looked like he wanted to keep his real life away from you, keep you at a distance, so the more you ask, the more he feels a part of him breaking. He wanted better for you. 

“Shapeshifters burn up in contact with silver, like your ring,” he interlaces your fingers together and his skin doesn’t sizzle. “Demons show themselves if you say ‘Christo’.” You look up but there’s nothing. He’s still there. “Ghosts will leave the person they’re possessing if you hit them with rocksalt.” 

“They can possess people?”

“Only really powerful ones.” 

“There should be a crash course on monsters.” You frown, leaning in closer, like maybe you don’t need a crash course. Just him. Just Sam.

He lets out a small laugh, a polite one, but you feel it against your head and it brings you so much relief, you’re scared what you’re going to do when he’s gone.

Because he will be gone. He will go and he’ll leave you and you’ll have to deal with—

“Hey, hey, calm down for me. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, but all it does is run tears down your cheeks, “I have to tell Jess and Emmy. Emmy’s so young and she wouldn’t understand, she’ll just want Daddy, what am I supposed to say, Sam? And Jess… she asked about him. I killed—.”

“No, stop it, don’t. You were thinking. A thought, that’s all. I bet he thought the same thing a hundred times, it’s normal, you’re married, it’s just unfortunate a demon heard yours.”

You’re still scared, that doesn’t really comfort you. You’re sharing your earth with demons. Demons. That came from hell. Which means hell, heaven, they exist and mark is in one of them right now. 

You end up telling your oldest with tears in your eyes and Jess comforts you instead of crying. She’s telling you ‘it’s okay’ and ‘daddy loves you’. And you’re thinking what you did to get such a beautiful and inspiring daughter. She even brushes your hair out of your face like you do for her when she’s crying. 

You tell her the same. Her daddy loved her, and that she should tell you how she feels when she’s decided. Anytime Emmy asks about Mark you tell her he’s up in heaven and she frowns. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to get it this young anyways, but… it’s unfair that she has to.

The past 48 hours have been hectic to say the least, devastating, too. Sam hasn’t left your side during them. Despite him being tall and somewhat scary if you look at it from a four-year-old‘s point of view, your kids have only asked a couple of questions. You don’t think they noticed that he went from ‘police’ to ‘mommy’s friend’, and you’re grateful. 

Gen ran over to your house the second you called her to tell her what you know. You don’t get into detail, just that Mark’s gone. He’s— God, you can’t even say it, he passed away. What kind of shit term is that anyway? Passed? To where, heaven? Hell? How are you supposed to know? 

Does Sam know? If Sam told you angels are real it must be because he’s met them… right? And he met the archangels, surely he has connections— what are you saying! You’re talking about Sam having connections with God? Who, by the way, Sam didn’t mention.

Gen holds you as you sob into her arms in your own room, Sam sitting with your children. They’re so innocent and fragile, you don’t want them to see you crying incase they think they have to, but the truth is, you’re severely dehydrated and you’re sure you’re losing your job at the hospital since you haven’t called to say you’re not coming in. 

It’s a gut-wrenching 48 hours. Who knows what the next will bring.

When you sober up from the frenzy you’re in, you call your parents, then Mark’s siblings. His father died years ago and his mother has amnesia so that’s one less conversation you have to go through.

You only call his second oldest sister, she cries before you finish your sentence and promises she’ll tell the others. You can’t. You know you can’t. 

Gen tries to talk to you about Sam, you shut her down pretty quick. “Can you take the kids during the funeral?” 

“Sweetie, I should come with you…” You shrug just as Sam makes his way to the kitchen where you’re both talking. Gen shoots him daggers as he walks over to you, hand on both your shoulders. “What—”

“The kids are asleep, I think. Dean needs me back at the motel so I’ll go check on him then come back, does that sound okay?” You nod absentmindedly. All you heard was that Sam’s leaving, and even if every part of your body doesn’t want that, he’s been your rock through all of this, you know you have to let him go. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” He places a kiss on your hair that helps you relax, like most of his touches do, and when he leaves the kitchen, Gen is right on his heel.

You hear them raise their voice and argue before he leaves. All you can think is that you hope the kids don’t wake up.

You hope you wake up from this nightmare.

Who decided black was a good color for funerals? It’s so… depressing. As if you all aren’t already dispiriting the entire house with your tears, now you’re all blending in with the kitchen supplies too. 

You hold his sisters the most, or they hold you, either way there’s some type of holding going on and it’s therapeutic for both of you. The oldest looks like she hasn’t stopped sobbing since yesterday. Since you told them all about it.

The police announced that he’s dead when you went to check again, and said there was a serial killer on the loose, the same guy who killed Carla, and they found a body in one of the warehouses. Which is total bullshit because demons wouldn’t throw a body in a warehouse, they’d probably… take it to hell?

Sam told you that it’s him, since you didn’t want to confirm it yourself, and you told his family that you were the one who confirmed it. You’re not sure how much of a bad person that makes you since none of them offered to check for you instead. 

Sam stayed with the kids in Gen’s house with her kid so maybe they did figure something out when they were screaming at each other, not that you care. You trust Sam. 

He’s the only person you trust.

There’s soft music thrumming out the speakers, though you lower the sound so people in the house can talk. One of the siblings brings their mother and you break down at the sight of her. She knows she has kids, she knows Mark, hell, she talks about him all the time. But more than that she loves you. His parents loved you the most out of their in-laws and while it created a rift in the family, it never did anything but humble you. You loved his dad, you were the first to get to his house when you heard what happened.

But seeing his mum— that you couldn’t take. 

It’s a few hours before they decide to leave. His brothers, both of them, come up to you asking about burying the casket. They’re doing it right next to his other brother and father. It’s family ground, or whatever it’s called.

You tell them you haven’t made any arrangements. They tell you not to worry. You hug both of them even if they did nothing to ease your concerns, at least that’s one less responsibility.

Gen holds your hand as you pace from the kitchen to the living room. There are kids, his family's kids, his friend’s kids, they’re all walking around, and you shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, but you can’t help the apprehensive emotions circling your heart and squeezing tight. 

The brothers leave to make the arrangements and everyone who isn’t immediate family has said their prayers and goodbyes. You’re all alone. Not that alone considering he has seven sisters and each one of them has at least three kids (one of them actually has 5 kids and two grandkids), but alone enough that none of you feel like you should socialize. Everyone’s in their own circle, you’re lying your head on Gen’s chest, hoping this horror show will end if you just close your eyes. Maybe you’ll hear his voice again, but it doesn’t happen. 

Except you hear his voice with every breath you take saying you’re the one who killed him. You’re the one who murdered your husband.

One Week After

“Jess, I swear to God, if you’re not done with your spelling homework—”

“She’s done.” You hear Sam’s voice get closer as he enters the kitchen and you nod softly at him. He frowns at you.

And you know why. 

“I helped her finish it.” He continues, walking up to you to greet you with a kiss to your head, but it’s not genuine. As much as Sam tries, his movements are all strained and it’s your fault. You haven’t stopped wearing black. 

“When did you come in?” You leave your door open most of the time in case one of his sisters comes to check up on you, or… or if Sam does. It gives his sisters comfort that you’re leaving your house open for them. The brothers haven’t spoken to you much since the funeral, but you know they’re grieving. Mark’s older brother lost his daughter and his brother in the span of a year. 

“Just a few minutes ago. Are you cooking?” You nod, looking away to check on the pasta. It’s a simple dinner, most of them have been since last week. You finally called the hospital yesterday and just as you were about to get a lecture from your attending, you told her what happened. She gave you an extra week off and you couldn’t reject it if you wanted to. 

“Pasta and Chicken tenders— it’s stupidly basic. I used to make it when we first got married, you know,” you let out a small humorless laugh, “and he hated me for it. Told me he’s a man and that he would starve if that’s what I thought food was. I learned how to make every dish his mother knew right then and there.”

Sam chuckles at your memory and it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that you wish you could push away. These feelings aren’t supposed to be for Sam. You suppose in a way they aren’t. A pet of them, the majority, belong to the story, the fondness behind it. Imagining him sitting on the sofa of your old house scolding you half-playfully about the importance of meals the second week of your marriage.

“So why’d you come over?” He shrugs, sits down on the chair in front of the counter that’s facing you. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Emmy already likes you. I don’t know about Jess.”

“Right. She’s a hard one to open up.” You smile at the description of your daughter, because it’s the truest thing you’ve heard. With the mention of that— maybe it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

You spin back, hands clasped together and you spit it out, “I didn’t see you at Jess’s funeral.”

His face drops, which makes your stomach drop but whatever. You have to talk about this. He probably has as many questions as you do, since you’re not aware of anyone keeping in contact with Sam.

“I didn’t attend. It was hard for me.” You furrow your eyebrows, unclasping your hands to fold them against your chest. “I mean… I didn’t talk to anyone after Stanford. I mourned. ‘Just didn’t see a point in showing up.” That’s a shitty excuse. And you hope he knows it too because you looked for him.

You searched for Sam at that funeral, you even asked about him when a few students came. God, even Brady came. How fucked up is it that Brady showed up and not her best friend. “Did you even keep in contact with Jess when you left?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

No. You were heartbroken when you and Sam split up. “We didn't really bring you up.”

“Right. We did, for a couple of years, but I moved around a lot and I got a new phone every few months. Eventually she got a kid and we just lost contact.”

“What about when you… you know, got convicted and stuff.” 

“I— not exactly, you know what Dean and I do, we’re trying to help people, but we can’t just walk around telling them we think there’s a vampire in the neighborhood. FBI, police officers, they trust those people.” You nod. It’s still not an answer. He notices. “Yeah, she still talked to me after, I’m not sure she even knew. I mean, you had to really be up to date with the news to hear our names.”

“No, you just had to live in Lawrence and give two shits about your surroundings. We’d be lucky if Jess even opened her phone to check for something productive, ‘s probably why she never found out. Gen got scared when Jess died, really paranoid for Rue, so she took it upon herself to stay informed. Your name came up a time or two.”

He sighs, scrubs his hand down his face and gives you his back to rest his elbows on the counter. You don’t mind, liking the silence as you stir this, taste that. Cooking’s been an excellent distraction for life lately. Even if it’s the most basic thing to exist.

Sam ends up staying for dinner but Jess stares at him with questions as she sticks to your side. She also has the biggest look of betrayal when Emmy asks him to hold her. She enjoys how tall he is and he doesn’t seem to mind it. By bedtime, you decide to talk to Jess about him.

“Why don’t you like Sam?”

“He’s a giant, and he made daddy sad.” 

Oh. “When he was here with the other police?”

She nods.

“He didn’t make daddy sad, sweetheart, he asked about Carla.” Who is also in heaven. Seems like they have a couple of slots open.

You speak to her a little more, about Sam, about school tomorrow, about daddy and how she misses him, you miss him too. He probably misses you two the most. You kiss her head before shutting the lights off and running downstairs to wish Sam a goodnight.

Until you notice him half asleep on your couch, his head resting on his own shoulder in a way that could never look comfortable. You bite your lip in anxiety. 

On one hand, you care for Sam and you don’t want him to drive tired. On the other, what if someone sees him spending the night?

What if one of Mark’s sisters comes unannounced? 

You decide to suck it up and be a good person, patting him lightly. “Sam, Sam,” he suddenly sits up straighter, slightly disoriented, “C’mon, let’s get you on a bed.” 

He pouts his lips like has more to say but ends up listening to you anyways. Halfway up the stairs he remembers his manners. “Oh. Oh, no, no—”

“You’re already halfway up the stairs, let’s just go.”

“I won’t intrude, I’ll just get back to the motel, I don’t know why I crashed like that.” You put a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes intensely to give your best ‘no bullshit’ look.

“Sam Winchester, if I have to convince you not to drive half asleep, I will force feed you sleeping pills. Got it?” He lets out a laugh before pulling you in a hug. And he’s one step below you so your head fits perfectly in as you tuck it in his neck.

“Thank you.” You shouldn’t cry again. It’s already been one hell of a week without adding non-Mark related crying. You shouldn’t. But you cry yourself to sleep anyways. 

Two Weeks After 

“So, how have you been holding up?” You look up from the papers you’re filling to your co-worker. One of the interns that started the same time as you. You’ve gotten quite close with Sage, he’s been a great friend, no matter how little you both talk.

“‘M okay. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You smile tightly before nodding and giving the papers to the nurse. 

“Thank you.” You walk away but he follows after you, considering you’re both heading to the same destination, the parking lot. Your first shift back finally  in over a week you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.” 

“No, thank you.” He’s being polite, you know that, but you’re not going to act the part of the widower. You’re fine. Your head’s still above water as much as anyone’s concerned. (Except Sam and Gen.)

Three Weeks After

Your mother is calling again. She won’t stop calling, and you can’t keep canceling. “Good morning, mum.”

There’s no one in the entire world that you love more than your mother. She’s your soulmate, she’s your best friend, she’s your biggest supporter. She’s everything you need and want in a person. She’s the only person who pulled you back from sinking when Jess died.

“Morning, baby girl. How are you?”

“I’m good, how about you and dad?”

She laughs as your father greets you, asking you where you’ve been. That you should call more often. That they’re there for you.

Yeah, that’s the problem.

Five Weeks After

“You’re… self-sabotaging. You don’t want to be happy, you don’t want to be okay.” The second the words leave Sam’s mouth, you try to kick him out with yelling. When that doesn’t work, you hit his chest with your fists, when that does nothing but make him barely stumble, you push  yourselves onto him in an attempt to throw him off his balance, instead he holds you as you cry.

What does he know? You’re grieving! You’re mourning. You miss him every single day and second and when his siblings gave you his inheritance you broke down so hard they were scared they’ll have to bring you to a hospital. 

He’s right. You’re going through the motions. Your kids ask you why they don’t go to the park on Friday. Your co-workers are worried for you. Gen cooks for you as much as she can. You killed him. You’re not— are you? You are.

“I don’t— want to. I don’t…” he shushes you, with reassuring ‘i know’ and ‘don’t worry, sweetheart’. When you’re calm enough to speak, you apologize for his tear-drenched shirt. And he gives you numbers for different therapists.

Later that week you tell Sam you won’t be doing therapy, but if he wants to help you, you’ll try. He says it’s enough compromise and he gives you a list of things to do. 

Make food that’s actually food. Work extra hours (you’ve been going under your normal hours the past three weeks). Friday park dates for the kids. Saturday lunch dates for you and Gen. 

Seven Weeks After 

You start wearing blue. Your favorite dress with small white flowers on it. You like how you look and it forces you to shave everything you’ve been neglecting lately. 

It’s time for you and Gen’s lunch date when you get a call from Sam. “I’m outside.”

You tell him you’ll be right down, spraying on perfume before running down to get your kids. “Hey, Jess, Emmy.” You capture their attention and they put down the iPad to stare at you. Maybe it’s your dress. “Sammy’s outside.” It’s the nickname Emmy’s given him and it makes your heart absolutely melt. “He’s going to drive you.” 

On your lunch dates you opt to leave your kids with your sister-in-law, the one you're closest to, anyways. She’s the youngest brother’s wife. But you’re running late and Sam offered to drive them himself. You’ve never left your kids alone with Sam anywhere other than in your house, where they’re comfortable. 

His car… It's worrying. 

You trust Sam completely and he’s been by your side every day for the past seven weeks but these are your children there’s just no way you’d neglect their feelings like that. But he convinced you that he’ll let them call you the entire time so they’re relaxed and you agreed.

You started locking your door.

Six Months After

“When’s Sammy coming?” You shrug, plating the Mac n’ cheese Jess requested. Today, Emmy is two whole years old.

It’s the first birthday you’re celebrating without Mark. And Sam offered to bring Gen and keep you both company. You’re still close to his family, you’re there once a week, if you can, but you’re slowly falling back to your routine, so you’re about to limit it to once every two weeks. The way Mark liked it.

The way you like it.

You’re picking up more shifts and making more elaborate dishes. One of your attendings told you if you keep putting in the work, he’s thinking of taking you in Cardiovascular. Your first choice would’ve been OBG-YN but if Cardio is what you’re the best in, you’ll take it.

Once all three of you are done and putting your plates away, the doorbell rings and you smile when Emmy runs over. You keep an eye on her as she waits for Jess to open the door. Sam and Gen are loud as they enter your house, hugging the kids. Sam picks Emmy up, teasing her about being two as they make it to the kitchen.

You lean in to hug Gen. Then Sam greets you like he always does, a kiss to your head. Emmy, being the adorable two year old, drops her face to do the same and Sam has to bring her back up with a smile to both your faces.

“Mommy they got velvet! My favorite!” Jess squeals, peeking at the cake and you look at both of your friends with a grateful look. 

Mark’s inheritance wasn’t even split upon you and anyone else, it’s all for you. And you’d been saving for a while too, so you’re set. Including your work, it’s going great, but they still insisted on being the ones to bring the cake. 

“Okay, we watch frozen first then cake, right, baby girl?” Sam asks Emmy and she smiles, hollering  in excitement. He puts her down so she, Gen and Jess can all go put the movie on, he holds you in place. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. And it’s weird that you know exactly what that means. “I’m better, I guess. Jess and Emmy still talk about him and— I made Mac n’ cheese today— but only because Jess wanted to—”

“Sweetheart, cooking was never about making it big, it was about what made you happy. And you’re happier when you make a big meal, I want you to feel that happiness again.” Maybe. Whatever. You still failed today, but it’s fine. “You did amazing today.” He tilts your chin up and you're forced to focus on his hazel-green eyes, “I’m proud of you. And you look beautiful.” He gestures to the pink top you have on, intricate lace design at your chest then it’s silk down till you tuck it into your jeans. 

A little dressing up was in order if you’re having a mini party. Even your kids and Rue are all in dresses. 

Sam walks you out to the couch, settles in next to you on one side and Jess on your other. Emmy alternated between all three of your laps.

Maybe you did amazing today.

One Year After

You call your mum as you practically bounce off the walls of your house, biting your lip so you don’t squeal like a five year old (no offense to Jess). 

“Mommy?” You jump the second she answers, “I got a job with Doctor Mendez!” And because you speak to her at least four times a week about him, she’s aware of who he is, the Cardiovascular Attending at your hospital. The one who’s due to retire any day now and is looking for a replacement. While he didn’t say it exactly, you’re the only student he picked to teach!

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey. Oh my God!” You gush over the entire thing to her in a phone call that lasts a little over an hour. Your dad congratulates you too and you run to pick up Jess from football practice so you can tell her too. 

She hugs you, although she doesn’t seem to care, and tells you all about her new coach. 

You pick up Emmy from the nursery and one of the moms with a son who’s taking an internship at your hospital congratulates you.

For some reason, you break down the second you’re home. “Thank you for— not hating me.” You smile through tears. “I don’t think I would’ve even cared to get this far if I thought you hated me. I love you, Mark, I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you and tell you everything.” 

But for once while you’re talking to him, they’re not hostile tears or sorrowful. You’re content. 

And not to some extent either. You’re fully content. 

Especially when Sam knocks on your door. Your Saturday dinner with him and Gen is tomorrow and you mentioned that you need new clothes to which he decided to make a day of it. Jess decides she wants to hang out with Rue and Emmy follows her sister wherever she goes. 

You dust yourself off and open the door. You don’t expect this many emotions when you see him. But they’re there. And they’re really really there.

“Hey.” He smiles, walking in. “Are the girls ready? I parked in the driveway but if they’re gonna take a while I can park it—”

“Why are you still here?” You see his face drop before you scramble to correct yourself, “I meant, you kept saying you move a lot and with Dean, hunting, whatever— but you’re here. It’s been a year and you’re still living in a motel, Sam.”

“I’ve actually, uh, bought an apartment. A while ago.” You can hear your heartbeat In your ears, “It seemed cheaper to just rent an apartment since… since I’m living here.”

“You’re living here— since when? What about Dean?”

“He’s settling down, too. Cicero, he’s living with his girlfriend and her kid.” You’re not supposed to cry again. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’ll stop coming over if you—”

“No,” you smile, “no, that’s just. I’m so happy for Dean, he deserves it, you know? Sam, look, I don’t know him well, I barely knew you before you both showed up as cops on my doorstep, but you’re not the same men that I hung out with in Stanford, you guys look so— and I mean this in the most loving way possible— exhausted. I wanted to ask, but it never seems like the time, you know? Just know I want to know about everything. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. You mean a lot more to me than I ever let on.”

Sam’s eyes are watery but you don’t think you’ve ever seen the man cry and he doesn’t start today, but he does bring you in for a kiss that you don’t expect. He’s slow as he brings you in, like he’s reassuring you you can pull away at any moment, but you don’t.

You let it consume you. You move in, standing taller with your hands on his biceps. It’s a strong hold, like you’re scared he’ll disappear, and maybe he will, who knows? 

It won’t stop you. 

Because losing people is the way of the universe and not getting close won’t stop Sam from leaving, it won’t stop your kids from hating you, and it won’t stop your friends from moving away. 

And maybe it took you a damn long time to get there, but you’re not stupid enough to keep repeating the cycle at twenty eight, especially not with Sam. Never with Sam.

You just hope Mark’s proud of you. You hope he supports you. Because he pushed you here. He’s the only reason you’re able to stand tall and put yourself out there, his love, his worry for you, it changed you.

Or maybe he’s half the reason, you’re pretty strong yourself.

End.

this was super new to me in terms of I did coloring??? on the pics?? look at me beating the non creative allegations (insecurities), and different writing style that I honestly really liked. thank you for reading if you've made it this far.

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

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[babaji12]

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[artic-willow]

Duskwood AU "Criminal On The Loose."

Chapter 1 (M) "Feelings."

Taglist: @jakelogic @crow-chaos @i-desire-jake @jakeismylover @digital-corruption @pennyl4n3 @saddah-mo @booklover-01040 @rw47vr-key7vr @red-writes-stuff @layanasstories @zmayadw @hacked-by-jake @spookycolorpeanut @leverageduskwood @lyricsofravensong @juan-nonetheway @robbybarnes @lois-carroline @captainwanderlust78 @jake01040-duskwood @silentblogsstuff @youngphilosophertragedy @slow-hazel @sasnayaandra  @lem-onchan  @futaba-01040 @duskwood-fandom @aisling-things @oceanipebble @withjake-blog @duskyducky @roxiuuu @duskwoodx @miraculous-duskwood-girl @riaduskwood @nala-raines @lyon-amore @justubi @renneiscent

!TW: Bad words, Medical drugs/Drugs and mention of Self-Harm (Flashback)!

*Jake’s POV*

I'm in the car, with a cigarette in my hand, parked in a parking lot. Disgusting.

I'm dirty, my mouth is just sticky from the smoke. Adorable. My hoodie is dirty with smoke residue. Disgusting. My mind cannot forget about my past. Again, disgusting.

I feel like one of my fathers, who takes drugs until he has lost all consciousness and sees reality slip out of his sight. Because he is, he has spent his life smoking as if it is the only escape and a band-aid from all pain.

...That's it, sort of. In fact you know what it does, the dangers of only consuming one cigarette.

But, I just do it. Why? Just two words, life sucks.

No, not always. Only those who see life as lousy live it as lousy. And because of that, I don't have a good life. Because I passed it only as if I were the spectator.

Yet when I was a little boy I couldn't control my emotions, so I couldn't do anything other than impose pain on myself. Scratching until I felt a bittersweet in my mouth. 'A quick remedy' in fact.

Poor little boy, emotions hurt, huh? This is why I have learned to ignore them, not to take them into consideration. If I do, will I suffer? Yes, as always. I can't let emotions win. Yet emotions hurt so much but they are indispensable, because if you don't listen to them, everyone automatically considers you a robot. Without emotions and to be thrown away.

Why does no one understand why I don't listen to my emotions? Easy. Hating a child is automatically being emotionless.

Yet that little girl is the result of an infidelity, the mother and father confirmed it. As my parents did more than once.

Even though my emotions tell me to get close to her, it looks like that little girl is pointing a gun in my forehead.

Disgusting.

She just has to be alone from me.

Without thinking I smoke again, now the smoke comes out of the window while I am in a state of 'Your wound is healed, for now!'.

From just one breath, they become five and so on.

I can only do one thing, hold a piece of paper in my fingers, not a normal piece of paper, a letter.

Jessy gave it to me. Best friend of that bitch.

As soon as I read and reread the last line, I just wanted to throw up from all the emotions I had in my body:

—

Dear Jake,

I wanted to end it, I already had the pills in my hand in my room. I just wanted to forget the pain, but it seemed too much to ask. Still, I was in front of the bar.

Needless to say, to forget the pain, I turned into a doll for him. He could bite me, he could slap me, I didn't care. It was nice.

And when it's done...It's done. Perfect, thanks phil! We will not see each other again, because I am no longer anything to him but only a sex toy...But that's okay! Bye!

But...Oops, forget about the protections.

We're running away from the government, needless to say they found out about me being pregnant. I had feelings for Jessy, but oops she told the group. Answer? Only for my protection and baby's.

And phil? Straight to jail, the group served him to the police on a silver platter. He was just a traitor to them.

But...Now I don't have a husband and a baby in my arms. I gave birth in very bad conditions. I give birth on the ground and almost die.

She's a little girl, I call her Azure. Yet I don't want her.

To recap...I have a little girl in my arms that I don't want, the hypothetical father is in prison, ‘my’ group and I are wanted all over Duskwood and at the moment we manage in a Bunker.

What should I do? Obviously run away and leave the child to the group. I spent my whole life running away from problems, like you. I've spent my entire life with a classic: 'Oops.' Just like you.

Yet I can't raise my finger at you, because you were in prison and maybe even dead.

So, we are tied. Traitor. :)

- Summer

—

I just wished the emotions at that moment hadn't left me, worse than believing what I read.

What the fuck?

She can't really have said that... 'All a misunderstanding' like she seems to be saying this, or like she is spitting in my face that everything she is doing is justified because I did it too when we knew each other as children.

No, she is not a child anymore. Grow up arrogant bitch.

Yet why does she seem to not give a shit but act like a goddamn selfish person?

I literally slide off the seat, I only feel my dry mouth with the letter between my fingers.

Damn it.

Although it is pitch dark, I see a silhouette in the shadows.

Jessy?

I see Jessy climb up and open the car door.

Wait...How long have I been here?

-"Jake! It's full of smoke in here!" She exclaims as she coughs.

He steps aside, just to let the smoke out.

I didn't know what to do. I bow a little and rub my eyes without thinking.

-"What were we doing before?" I asked. Fuck how stupid I am.

She frowns. -"Excuse me? We've been here for hours!" She gets in the car and with a bang closes the door. -"We are on a mission!"

-"Oh. Right." Respond by looking at her, although I don't have a mirror with me I can imagine my gaze darkening.

She looks at me confused, -"What happened?"

-"Is irrelevant." I answer.

-"Jake." She begins, in a slightly sarcastic voice. "I don't know you well, but you understand that something is wrong."

I sigh.

I see with the thing in the eye her looking at the paper between my fingers, I was so concentrated that I have completely forgotten about the paper.

Quickly, she takes the paper.

-"Jessica!" I exclaim and try to snatch it from her hands.

Despite this, I somehow manage to pick up the sheet. We looked like two children.

-"What is that??" She faces the letter with a lot of curiosity.

-"A letter, but it's none of your business." I rolled my eyes.

-"It's not from..." She slowly pulls away from my arm. -"...About Summer?"

I look at the void. -"Yes."

She doesn't say anything. -"I left you the letter..." She begins, "I was hoping you wouldn't find out."

-"What?" I raised my voice.

She looks up, completely scared. She gets defensive and mumbles something. -"Wait! She betrayed me too!"

- "This does not mean that you have to make me unaware of everything!" My hand slowly turns into a fist.

-”I’m sorry! But I thought you might want to look for her...You were on time!" She tries to justify herself, as if the light is now the dark.

-"Much worse!" Growl, how the fuck does this bitch afford?

I approach with a stiff fist, she takes my sweatshirt with one hand and squeezes it. I sharpen my eyebrows and she seems to be asking for mercy only with her eyes.

-”Jake! Stop! She never loved you!” What she says is a fucking sword of truth in my heart, fuck it.

As soon as she says those words, my heart punches itself. It is frustrating, it is true but above all I have never had hope with her and Jessy knows it.

I sit on the half-broken seat, a tear falls from my eye and I cover my face with my hands like a hedgehog.

-”What…What did I do wrong…She never loved me even if I wanted her heart too much…I did a lot for her…?” My voice is completely broken, like a glass jar. It echoes throughout the car even if it is extremely low.

Jessy never seems to have seen a boy cry, my dad would be disappointed in me. I look at her, her pale green eyes lightning mine.

She hugs me.

-"I'm sorry, Jake." She whispers in my ear and squeezes her arms in my neck.

I tried, tried a lot but my efforts were in vain. She never loved me, and she didn't hide it as she hid on her prairie when we were little.

I close my eyes, my throat is completely dry but I still try to let go of the stress.

As I always did when I was adolescent, but I cut myself and sometimes I still use it...I did it because the stress was deadly and I couldn't deal with it. Maybe I'm happy to be an adult, or maybe not.

Even though I am now known as a criminal, with a gun in his hand and a heart at the bottom of his body. I accept destiny, like a child without parents in a street...Without a home and a destination, but maybe the destination I want to reach comes from my heart.

The love that has not been returned, and never will.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.35

Sacrifices to Save the World

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 9,582

Warnings: smut, LOTS of fluff, angst

A/N: (THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!) Here it is everyone! The moment I have been waiting for. I can’t really say much and I don’t want to give anything away so, I’ll just let the chapter speak for itself. I also want to say that I’m sorry that I haven’t been as diligent about responding to comments. Trust me when I say that I read and reread them often! I appreciate your thoughts and reactions so much. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work!

Tags are closed!

Please DO NOT repost my stories. Reblogs are MOST welcome!

You bustle around the cottage sweeping cat hair and dust, mixing the white of the chalk dust with the crimson blood of Grandmother’s sacrificial cat.

Your attempts to tidy the space is wasted as you’re only making it worse, but rather than focus on her words you prefer to clean.

She watches you from the seat at her table where you placed her. A cup of water gripped in her withered hand, still trembling slightly.

“Stop cleaning, girl!” Grandmother chides, watching you with annoyance as you stop amongst the mess on her floor and throw your hands out to your sides in a clear indication of not understanding.

“What would you have me do?” You ask her, voice tight with distress. “You tell me that my husband will fight to his death and I am supposed to what? Dance?”

“Just sit down.” She points at the seat across from her, her finger crooked and weak.

You drop the broom where you stand and plop yourself down on the indicated seat while ignoring the creak of the weathered wood. The old woman would resist new furnishings though you’d managed to sneak in a new bed and kitchenware.

“You killed your cat.” You tell her, as if she doesn’t know.

“Yes.” She agrees and lifts the small cup to her lips to take a drink.

“Why?”

“I had to see.” She explains. “Something was…was there.”

“When I found you outside Steve’s office?” You check, though you know her answer.

“Yes.” With a sigh she captures your gaze and does not release it. “I have sensed a darkness growing in the world. Something elusive. Hidden. It has kept its face secret, behind that of puppets. It uses others to do its bidding and until today I had no idea what that bidding was.

“He is gathering six relics. Stones. Rich in magic properties. Richer than any other relics I have ever come across. Each of them with powers more terrifying than the last.”

“What kind of powers?” You ask her, voice feeble and wispy.

“Powers to control time. Power to manipulate the mind and the very fabric of space and reality.” She warns. “Powers to rule the world…or wipe it from existence.”

Your heart grows cold, slipping into the pit of your stomach as you picture Steve in his armor standing before such massive power. What could your warrior husband do in the face of such might?

“Who is he?” You ask her, eager to put a face to the threat.

“I don’t know.” She says, looking down at the necklace that always rests around your neck. The locket that is Steve’s insignia, with his picture along with your parents. “I cannot see his face. I can only feel him. He is stronger than the king. Stronger than many of those who fight here. Together they may defeat him, but I did not see them together. I saw only your husband, the bodies of those you love surrounded him, and he fell too.”

You get up, unwilling to let her convince you despite you having already accepted her words. “I cannot listen to this.”

“You must, girl. You must take heed of what I tell you and prepare yourself for what is to come. Take your daughter and go as far away from here as possible but even that may not save you.” She adds as an afterthought. “I feel this evil plans for more than death. He has such a will.”

Turning to her you consider her thoughtful expression and the way she seems lost to her vision. She believes it with every fiber of her being and your own heart is swayed into panic as you throw yourself onto your knees at her feet.

Gripping the hand she has resting on her lap, you raise it to your breast and hold it there to where your heart is pounding.

“There must be something you can do. Something that will save him.” You reason, pleading for her to see reason as if she held the very fate of Steve within her old hands. “Won’t you try?”

“I cannot.” She shakes her head. “Such magics are forbidden. I am no dark witch.”

Her insistence is fractured, her own eyes betray her as she eyes you up and then turns away.

Her fondness is clear. You know that she loves you despite the way she speaks to you at times. She has fought hard for your happiness. If you would beg for her life, you think she might give it up.

“Is there no way? Nothing? Surely there is a chance to change things without resorting to dark magics? Please, Grandmother…” Before you know what’s happening, you’re crying.

Tears flow freely across your cheeks but your voice is strong in the only way that it can be when you’re pleading for your husband’s life.

“I cannot live in a world where my husband is not alive. Please…help me. Help me save him. There must be a way. There must be…please. We just had our daughter…” You lay your head in her lap, overcome with fear at this future she’s seen. “Please.”

Her silence is heavy. You can feel her thinking, can feel her mind searching for a way to give you what you want.

You have always loved this old woman but until today, you had not considered how much she might truly love you as one would a true granddaughter.

“Give me time.” She sighs.

“You’ll try?!” You gasp, your heart soaring.

With an elated sob you drop your head onto her lap and with gentle, feeble hands, she strokes the back of your head.

“I will think on it. I will try. I cannot make any promises.” She warns you, reaching under your chin to draw your gaze up. “What you ask for will not be easy. Is he worth it?”

You blink, confused by her question because in your mind there is absolutely no doubt.

“He’s worth more. He’s worth everything.” You nod. “I love him.”

Grandmother’s gaze withers and she releases you, nudging you away.

“Go. Be with your husband and child. Let me ponder.” She orders and slowly you rise.

You’re so stunned you have to keep a hand on the table as you rise to keep your knees buckling.

“When will you know?” You ask her, sniffling from the tears you shed.

“Go.” She orders again, staring at the hem of your dress. “And change your dress. You’re covered in blood.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Standing still, you hold tight to the lower left post of your bed as your corset is laced again.

The copper tub by the roaring fire in your bedroom sits lukewarm, full pink and wine-colored peony blooms floating within its oiled surface.

“Why was there blood on your dress?” Natasha wonders, tugging tight on your laces making you gasp.

“It’s not important.” You tell her, then think better of keeping her completely in the dark. “There was a dead cat on the way to Grandmother’s and I didn’t realize it until I came upon it.”

Fuck, was that believable? Does she trust you enough to accept your words without doubt?

“You’re keeping something from me.” She counters, frowning as she ties the corset closed.

Apparently not.

“I’m not.” You argue, but after her silence pierces your soul, you sigh. “I’m worried.”

“About Hydra?” She asks, supplying you with an appropriate alternative to the truth.

“Of course.” You grasp onto this straw and lean your stress onto this very real threat. “The last time I was within their vicinity someone tried to kill me and Maggie.”

“That won’t happen again.” Natasha assures you, moving towards you with a long ivory gown. The slightly yellowish tinge to the flowing fabric is pretty, though you note this in the back of your head. You’re too preoccupied with the threats looming overhead to notice how pretty the dress is. “I should have stayed with you.”

“It wasn’t your fault Nat. Pierce knew what he was doing. He’d been to father’s many times and he knew that I’d be in that part of the castle. He knew that you’d all be focused elsewhere. He was going to find a way to me one way or another.” You reason, but you know that if Peter or Nat had been there with you, there would have been a better chance of getting away with greater speed.

“I will never leave your side again.” Nat declares passionately but you huff a laugh and turn to look at her as she gathers up the skirt of your dress, hooking her arms through it to make ready for you to wear.

“Nat,” You smile. “I love you, and maybe you’re right and things would have been better if you or someone else had been by my side that night. But you cannot be beside me always. You’re a wife now. And even if you cannot be a mother naturally, there are many other ways to have children.”

Nat drops her arms, watching you with a concerned and furrowed brow. She’s clearly focused on you and not herself. You want to remedy that quickly. You love her, how can you allow her to only ever let you be her concern?

“You two must have discussed it?” You prompt, knowing that Bucky would not give up on giving Nat what she most desperately desires. “I know you want to be a mother. You love children.”

She seems to realize that you are not about to let this drop, so she sighs, relaxing a bit.

“I have thought about it.” She nods. “And yes, I do love children but I’m not sure if it’s right for me with the life that Bucky and I lead.”

Your heart aches suddenly, a renewal of Grandmother’s words reminding you that your daughter could lose her father. She so damn right about that.

“I don’t blame you.” You nod, sitting yourself on the end of the bed. “This life that all of you have chosen is one most unwelcome to the traditional family. But it is possible. Father and Mother have Morgana, Lord and Lady Lang have their daughter. Steve and I now have Margaret.

“It may not be ideal, certainly. But possible.” You offer in encouragement.

You don’t want her to give up. You want her to be happy.

Nat looks down at your stocking covered feet and nods.

“You don’t have to. Of course, it is entirely your choice and Bucky’s. I’m not trying to say that you should have children. But if you should you choose to have them, it is possible to live both lives.” You really hope that you’re not putting any pressure on her to raise a child when she might not want to.

Natasha’s inability to have children naturally should not be a hindrance on her desire to be a mother if she should decide to try. There are thousands of children in orphanages across the Kingdoms that would benefit greatly from a loving home that you know Bucky and Nat would provide effortlessly.

At the end of the day however, you know it is their choice.

“I appreciate your support.” Nat admits, gathering your skirts again and then holding them open for you to put your head through. “Truly. It means so much to me that you think I could do a good job. As a mother.”

You stand and stick your head through the dress and begin to pull your arms through the large puffed sleeves as Natasha straightens your skirt.

The neckline is ruffled, heart shaped, and low. The sleeves are also ruffled, small cinches that wrap around your arm mid-bicep leaving your shoulders and neckline exposed. Nat turns you and quickly laces up the back of the dress. She pulls it tight so that there is no chance of it slipping down.

“Isn’t this a little-?”

“You look beautiful.” Natasha smiles, fixing a long pink sash around your waist that she ties into a long loose bow above the curve of your bum. “Shall I braid your hair again?”

Natasha’s hands work fast, her fingers nimble and familiar with your hair’s texture and flow. The skirt is so long and flowing that you wonder if something special has been planned for you to attend as you feel that despite the somewhat casual look of the dress, it also doubles as pretty in that formal sense.

Your fingers find the embroidered pink and white peonies on the bodice that decorate your breast.

“Am I seeing someone special today?” You ask.

“No.” Natasha smiles. “Just us. Lunch is being served in the garden for you, Margaret, and Steve. Bucky and I shall be nearby. Peter will be close too. No one special.”

You huff a laugh as she lists all of the most precious people in your life. “So, only those special to me then?”

Nat chuckles and finishing tying off your hair.

“Lunch is for you, Steve, and Maggie. Steve expressed a wish to spend some quiet time alone with the two of you. He knows he’s been busy the past few weeks racing about chasing leads on this new Hydra weapon. He wants to make it up to you and I know he’d appreciate you in this dress.”

Her explanation makes sense but you’re successfully distracted from the dress by the mention of Hydra.

“How was the search?” You suddenly wonder, remembering Steve’s orders for her and Bucky.

“We’ve spread the word and will go out again tonight to search. I’ll tell you if anyone is found.”

“I’d like to know what’s happening with this.” You turn to her, adjusting within her grip as she reaches down to fuss with your dress. “I need to know, Nat. I can’t be kept in the dark again.”

Natasha drops her hands, placing them on her hips as she considers the look in your eyes.

“You’re not saying something.” She realizes. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, a shrug thrown her way just to brush off the concern. “I just don’t want any surprises. Not like before. This threat seems insignificant but what if there’s more to this mysterious weapon? I want to know what you’re all walking into.”

“Steve has promised to keep you appraised.” Nat promises you. “I will hold him to his word.”

Slowly, as the truth of her words shines through her eyes, a small smile stretches your lips.

“Thanks, Nat.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As you approach your renovated pavilion, peony blossoms blooming all around in varying shades of pink, you adjust Maggie in your arms.

You’re careful with your own dress. Double-checking the top of your bodice to make sure for the tenth time that you are covered after feeding your daughter. Nat made sure it was tight again but you’re fretting is ceaseless as a mother now.

The corset you’re wearing made especially for you since you are nursing, makes it easy for you to feed her without much fuss. Steve seems to favor it too though you’ve told him to be gentle and he’s avoided enjoying your breasts while you’re focused on raising your little one.

Aside from a loving caress and gentle butterfly kisses when the two of you make love, he’s avoided touching them.

Reaching the stairs, you fix your daughter’s dress—changed to match yours with endless ruffles but the same peony embroidery pattern on her little chest and pink sash around her little waist.

Steve rises quickly, rushing towards you with his arms extended.

Maggie coos excitedly, her little high-pitched squeaks and goos nearly make you swoon as she kicks her little legs excitedly. She’s not exactly screaming yet, but her noises are long and eager.

“There’s my princess.” Steve says proudly, his eyes flooding with love as he takes her into his large arms and kisses her chubby cheek.

He turns her to sit with her little back pressed against his chest and smiles at you while your own eyes are glued to your daughter.

“And my beautiful Queen.” He gushes, pulling your attention away from Maggie as he leans down slowly until he meets your lips with a long slow peck. “How are you?”

His voice is soft and deep. “I’m very well.”

It’s almost a lie.

In this moment, here with Steve and Maggie, you are most definitely well. You’re happy and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Your heart still weighs a ton with Grandmother’s news.

For a terrible moment as Steve walks away from you to sit down with Maggie on his lap, you remember her words and your knees almost buckle.

With him focused on the little one, you manage to sit yourself down before he can notice.

Rapid footsteps climb the stairs behind you. You turn to find Peter moving in to stand beside you both. He smiles excitedly as he watches Maggie. He, like everyone else in the castle, is head over heels for her.

No one draws a smile quicker than Maggie, even from the gentry that had so readily spread rumors about you.

This makes you happy. Your daughter accepted.

“Cook will be out with your meals shortly, your Majesties.” He informs you both.

“Won’t you join us?” You ask him, but Peter meets Steve’s eyes for a moment then reaches up to scratch behind his head, his cheeks flushing pink.

Clearly Steve had made it clear that he wanted to spend time with you and Maggie alone to more than just Nat. However, there’s something else in that rosy tint in Peter’s cheeks.

“I…I’m actually meeting Morgana in the libraries to help her with her studies. I will cancel with her if you wish me to stay?” He offers, though you see the disappointment in his eyes.

“No.” You hurry to assure him. “No, we’re fine. I just wanted to be sure you ate.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I believe Cook is sending sandwiches to the library for us.” Peter bows and with an excitement in his step you watch him until he’s out of sight.

“They make a good match.” You smile, turning to take a sip of water from the silver goblet before you.

“Who?” Steve asks, confused. He bounces his leg to keep Maggie occupied while allowing her to hold his finger in her tight tiny fist. She drags it to her mouth and bites it with her gums, yet Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

“Peter and Morgana.”

“Peter and your sister?” Steve asks in shock. “But…she’s so young.”

“She’s fifteen, going on sixteen.” You remind him. “If they are engaged this year that will still leave them with two years of courtship before they’re married. That is the custom in Malibia.

She’ll be eighteen by then and Peter will be twenty-four. Some people would say those are two ages perfect for marrying.”

Despite the pleasant picture you paint, Steve’s frown only grows.

“What?” You chuckle, reaching into your skirts to find the pocket where you’d placed a few small towels for Maggie’s constant drooling.

You offer Steve the towel but he’s still frowning? No…he’s pouting! You get up and move around to wipe her chin before placing the towel in Steve’s hand.

“Why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.” Steve grumbles.

It makes you laugh again. “Steve…”

“Maggie will not be getting engaged until she’s at least twenty.” He suddenly declares. “I’ll lock her up in the West tower until she’s that age and only then will I allow her to entertain the idea of a suitor.”

“Are you worried that you’ll only have her for sixteen years?” You chuckle, watching the worry in his eyes as he cradles Maggie closer, stroking her rounded cheeks with gentle thumbs.

“She’s mine right now.” Steve laments, looking down at her as she continues to chew on his finger. “I don’t want to part with her. I’ve waited so long for her for some boy to come take her from me.”

“Oh, my darling.” You chuckle but this time with full sympathy for his heartbreak. “We will have lots of time with her. And even after she marries, she will always be our daughter.”

Steve’s eyes are glued to her little face and he completely doesn’t notice Cook come up to serve your meal. A few roast chickens with potatoes and carrots.

You eat in silence but quickly. Enjoying the sight of him growing more and more enamored with your daughter. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the time slip by as he distracts her with the towel you’d handed him.

She chatters about nothing in her baby speak, drawing smiles and chuckles from your husband.

Finally, you eat your last carrot and slide your chair back.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, rising to your feet knowing you have no reason to be sorry. He’s so in love with her. Luckily, you’ve still managed to eat fast enough that the food is still warm for him. “I should hire a maid to watch her when we eat.”

It’s true that you’ll eventually need to hire someone to take care of her when you must deal with kingdom affairs too. You’re so reluctant to let someone else care for her. Just as Steve claims her passionately, you feel just as he does. She’s yours.

“Not yet.” Steve counters, letting you take her from him. He adjusts in his chair, wipes his hand then proceeds to eat, stealing glances at both of you as you move towards the benches that line the inner edge of the pavilion.

Everything is so perfect. So lovely.

You’re almost content in this moment, with your little girl in your arms and Steve sharing a meal with you. You’re very nearly happy until you look at him and like a raging storm Grandmother’s words destroy your fragile peace once more.

Steve is going to die.

He turns to you and smiles. He smiles at Maggie. He confesses his love for you both with it pouring from his eyes and while your heart aches, you vow to do anything to stop this new threat from taking him away.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come to bed.” Steve pleads.

You glance at him through your looking glass, a hazy image because of the distance from your small table to the bed. The silver is in need of polishing or perhaps replacing. You don’t dare speak this thought aloud though.

Knowing Steve, he’d simply buy you a wall full of mirrors and you can’t have that.

Even blurry he’s a vision, an absolute fucking sight to behold with your daughter at the center of your bed his fingers tickling her tummy as she kicks her little legs excitedly. Her little hands absentmindedly stroking his arm.

He’s on his side, shirtless. His lower body hidden beneath the sheets of your bed as he lays naked underneath.

Despite that delectable fact, your eyes are glued to his gentle smile as he takes his hand and gently strokes the length of Maggie’s little nose. He’s noticed how that lulls her to sleep and does it to her every night to send her off when he’s not busy in meetings.

You finish tending to your hair, braiding it back once again to keep out of the way for your little one. When you turn in your seat to look at them, you find Maggie’s movements slowed. Her eyes are closing, little rosebud lips left open slightly.

She’s already fed and content. Your happy baby, so protected and cherished.

Despite his attentions to your daughter that you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching, when you look at him you find Steve’s eyes on you.

“Come to bed.” He urges you, a small twinkle of desire hidden in the tranquility of these moments he spends with Maggie but stares at you.

“Are you trying for a second?” You ask him, teasing as you rise and move to the bed. You know that look well by now.

Steve’s expression suddenly shift, concern etched across his face.

“Am I rushing you?” He asks, reaching for you as you kneel on the bed and gather your nightdress up so as not to trip on it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s thinking of this morning, already having had you in his den.

Since you’d given birth, he’s been so careful with you. Even when you’d assured him you were ready to be intimate with him again, he’d hesitated. Worried about hurting you or rushing your body into doing things you should not be doing.

Your smile only grows, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you settle in on Maggie’s right. She doesn’t even stir. Steve’s hand remains around your forearm, fingers gently caressing your skin.

“Why do you laugh?” He asks, his mouth perking at the corners despite his worry.

“You are not like any man I’ve ever met or heard of.” You confess. “Some of the women in Bright Rise, when they still spoke with me, would tell me about their husbands. They were like you were at the beginning of our marriage. Worse, as they took without care for their wives’ wishes. Some of them were always pregnant now that I think about it. Always trailed by a line of toddlers and children.

“The men didn’t care about their wives’ bodies or how their need to satiate their hungers affected the other.” You shake your head. “Some of the women even confessed to me that they took on lovers to find the enjoyment in fucking again.”

“Something you would have been forced to do had I continued in my foolish ways.” Steve suggests, unphased by your still somewhat rural tongue.

“Maybe…in the future. It would have taken me years of neglect to get to that point.” You nod, “Even with Thor, his touch was…unwelcome. He didn’t force me, but I did not feel right accepting his affections. I’m married. Even unhappy that wasn’t something I took lightly.”

Steve’s hand moves up to the top of your arm then slowly he drags it down to your wrist.

“Were you always this considerate? I mean, before me?” You wonder, looking deep into his storm blue eyes. “Say with Margaret? Or, perhaps the other women you were with before we married?”

Steve turns, laying himself on his back.

He releases your arm and gently strokes the length of his chest, fingers dancing across the tuft of blonde hair that rails all the way down below where the blanket ends at his waist. His other hand he shoves underneath his head as he thinks.

You wait patiently for him to be ready to speak. You’ve never asked him about his habits with other women in bed.

He steals several quick looks your way which tells you he’s nervous about answering you. Wary, in case it should prompt a fight. You can see the moment he decides to give in. His lips part a little, they stutter, then he speaks.

“Margaret was strong.” He states plainly, as if that explains it all.

You wait.

“Not that you aren’t!” He rushes to say, sitting up as gently as he can to keep from waking your daughter.

Maggie still stirs and whimpers. You place your hand on her chest and soothe her until she stills again.

“Can you put her in her bed?” You begin to sit up too, ready to do it yourself but Steve is faster, rushing so that you won’t have to.

“Of course! I’ll get her.” He gently scoops her up into his arms then quickly moves around to your side of the bed as you follow them with your eyes, turning your body as they go.

Gently he places her in her crib and tucks her in, shushing and soothing her as she complains then goes silent once more.

She isn’t too close, but you can still see her from your spot on the bed. Steve double checks by looking at you to see if you can still see her.

When he’s satisfied that you can, he moves back to you, crawling over you and stopping to give the tip of your nose a kiss as he goes before plopping himself down on his side once again. This time he reaches for you, grabby hands tracing the shape of your curves as he pulls you a little closer.

“What I meant, is that Margaret was willful. She knew what she wanted, and she made certain that everyone else knew so too.” He clears his throat, suddenly nervous again. “In bed, she was just as certain of herself.

“Even though I made the first move, she was the one who took charge in our physical relationship. I knew that if something were to go wrong or if she was tired or too ill to be with me intimately, she would tell me.”

You listen without judgement and try to keep your face clear of all emotions other than the love you have for him. Even through this conversation, your heart pounds with dread as it repeats Grandmother’s words over and over, reminding you that every moment with Steve is precious.

“I never had to worry about Margaret’s body because she never had to compromise it for me. I did worry for her, but not in the same way.” Steve says, probably thinking about the risks that Margaret would have taken as part of the Avengers.

“And the other women?” You wonder.

“There weren’t many.” Steve assures you, looking down at your chest in embarrassment. “Only two.”

“You were grieving Margaret.” You nod, understanding. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t a man.”

Steve is silent for a moment, resting his head in his hand as he uses his elbow to prop himself up. With his other hand he traces nervous circles in the blanket between you.

“They were visiting ladies. Ladies who, like Margaret, knew what they wanted.” Steve sighs the lunges softly towards you, pushing you onto your back so suddenly it makes you gasp and then laugh.

As he settles his body halfway over yours, he smiles down at you.

His hands caress the sides of your face before he trails one hand along your sides, grabbing you with intent. You can feel the desire in his touch.

“Court ladies are all playing a game. It’s a language they speak that you don’t know.” Steve sighs heavily. “A set of rules that I’m glad you do not understand. You are nothing like them and I love you for it.”

“They had husbands?” You realize.

“Yes.” Steve nods. “Men who are too distracted by their own infidelities or too busy grasping at power to pay their wives any mind. With both of them it was only one night. It came and went so quickly I can barely remember them. I don’t even think I could tell you their names.”

His face grows solemn, sad as if remembering a painful memory that has since lost its sting but not the emotion of sorrow. “I didn’t enjoy myself. I was driven by lust, but I didn’t even…I made sure they were satisfied and left it at that.”

“Mm. You felt guilty.” You nod, understanding as you watch his full lips. The lower is so much bigger than the upper. You reach up and trace it, loving the soft plumpness of it.

“Does it not make you jealous?” He wonders, relaxing more of his weight onto you. “Does it not upset you?”

You meet his eyes again, a smile stretched across your face. You can see that he wants to know you’re jealous. He wants to know that you want him as much as he wants you.

So much progress…is this truly the man you married?

“Only as much as it would upset any wife to hear her beloved husband talk about his past adventures in fucking other women.”

Steve groans and buries his face into the side of your neck, wrapping his arms around you as you also wrap yours around his shoulders. You chuckle, caressing the back of his head.

“So, the concern is not normal?” You realize, feeling better but also worried that you’re not seeing the real Steve. That maybe he’s acting this way with you while acting a completely different way with everyone else.

Is this not who he is?

“No, the concern is normal.” Steve says, muffled against your skin, making you feel almost instantly better.

He pulls back to look down at you again.

“What I’m saying is that every woman that I have been with until you has never given me cause to be concerned. I didn’t hurt them the way I hurt you.” He frowns. “I didn’t take what they weren’t willing to give.”

You look away this time, the solemnity coming from you now. The shift of conversation making your heart ache. When you speak, your voice is quiet, subdued with the reminder of your wedding night.

“I wasn’t unwilling.” You correct him because you hadn’t been. Not that first night or any night after.

Your line was not one clearly drawn, certainly. You’d slept with him out of duty but that hadn’t meant you didn’t want to. He’s the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. Of course, you’d wanted him.

You hadn’t told him no. You’d only told him to slow down. You know that for him, for Nat, for everyone who found out—that slow down had been enough. It should have been enough to stop him.

“You know what I mean.” Steve says, placing both his hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back until you look at him. “I wounded you. I took something that was not mine to take.”

“But it was yours to take.” You correct him again, and he growls in his throat at you before shaking his head, the pain leaving his eyes to be replaced by admiration.

“I can still feel you, trembling and sobbing in my arms. I was disgusted with myself. I couldn’t believe that I could do that to anyone. And you were so…so kind and gentle. So eager to please and I took advantage of that.” Steve confesses. All of his thoughts spilling out of him like water. “I had turned this beautiful, sweet princess into a sobbing, fearful, and wounded creature. I was so consumed by my grief over Margaret and my anger at having to marry again when I wasn’t ready to do so that I wanted it over. In that moment, I didn’t care about the sweet woman beneath me.

“And even after I hurt you, when I came to see you, despite your fear your only concern was for the tears I shed.”

It takes a moment to find your voice, but you do. You swallow hard.

“I’d never seen a man cry.” You confess. “Much less a king.”

“I meant every tear.” Steve insists. “If I could take that night back, I would. If I could redo every night since, I would. I am concerned for you above anyone else, because in you I saw my darkest self and I never want to be that man for you again. I never want to hurt you.”

The two of you lapse into emotional but pleasant silence. Both hearts beating strongly against each other as his chest is pressed firmly against your own.

At last, you smile, a chuckle spilling from your lips as you reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear. It’s getting long again.

“Have you always made these long speeches? Or is that reserved for me as well?” You check, mostly just teasing.

Steve’s lips curl up, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I make sure to give every pretty woman I see a lengthy speech. Whether they’re enjoyable is a different matter.”

You bite your lip, glaring at him but only in jest. Quickly he dips down to kiss your lips, letting it linger for a moment before he pulls back only a bit so that when he speaks, his lips are fluttering against your own.

“My declarations of love, however, are entirely yours alone.” He whispers. “Tell me to stop and I will obey, my Queen.”

His right hand moves down, searching until it finds the hem of your nightdress which he begins to tug up until he finds the top of your leg. He traces the dip of flesh there, tickling your skin in search of your already yearning core.

As his fingers make contact, you gasp into his slightly open mouth and it draws his attention back up to your face. He licks your lips, just a gentle flick of the tip of his tongue before he kisses you, sinking it into your depths where you meet his eager kiss with your own.

You moan quietly, a whimper of yearning as his fingers spread your folds and begin to explore you. The noises his hand makes absolutely sinful.

Eager for his touch, you bring your knees up. You spread your legs for him, and he pulls out of the kiss to slide down along your body. He does down, down, down until he’s settled between your legs.

He grabs one and throws it over his left shoulder, then the other over his right. He kisses your thighs, trailing his tongue in small circles before every gentle pucker. The anticipation curls your toes as he moves closer and closer to your cunt.

“Steve…” You whisper, aware of the baby asleep in her crib and your need to keep quiet so that she can sleep.

He dives in, his tongue making one long swipe of your dripping core.

You gasp, curling up towards him as your body is sent into shivers.

He grabs hold of your thighs roughly, pulling you hard against his face. Opening his mouth, he suckles on your clit, the gentle sound of his sucking filling your limbs with fire.

As much as you enjoy his mouth where it is, there’s an impatience that wages war within you.

After months of waiting to enjoy sleeping with him, now that you do, it makes you eager to have him within you.

“Steve, please…” You beg, reaching down and tugging on his hair.

He likes that, growling a little at the lusty whisper that is your plea.

Pressing kisses along the length of your body while he shoves your nightdress up higher and higher, he finally helps you pull it off before taking your breasts within his mouth.

His lips are soft against them, gentle in their suckling as he knows how painful you can find it now.

When you whimper from the soreness, he steals a quick look at you to make sure you aren’t in too much pain before he simply kisses them around the nipple.

You run your hand over his hair, a promise that someday he’ll be able to enjoy your breasts again. He reads your reassurance but dismisses it as he rushes to meet your lips in a demanding kiss.

Without warning he pushes into you. He stretches you, filling you up so pleasantly that you throw your head back but swallow the moan you’d normally release.

Fuck…Your mind supplies, nails raking along the scarred flesh of his shoulders.

“Fuck…” Steve groans into your ear, stopping once he’s buried within you. Great minds think alike, you guess.

“Don’t stop.” You beg and wrap your left arm around his shoulders while the other reaches down as far as it can to grab as much of his bum as possible and pull him close.

He starts slowly, letting you both relish in the silky way his cock slides out of you then back in.

“Kiss me.” You tell him, needing his mouth to silence the moans you feel bound to make.

He obliges, roughly meeting your lips with a frenzied and lustful kiss as he loses himself within you.

He doesn’t pound into you the way he did at the cottage. He knows he shouldn’t, so he doesn’t. Even though you want it, you’re grateful for his forethought and instead focus on the way he seems to know which angles to adjust so that his cock not only pierces you but presses against the most sensitive spots inside of you.

He moves faster, reaching down to massage your clit as he kisses his way down your neck.

The moment is sudden, and it surprises you when your body goes tense for a moment as your climax washes over you.

You pull Steve down against you, gripping him hard as you hold him tight while your body is overcome.

Steve continues to push into you. Faster as he realizes that you’ve reached your limit. He grunts as he picks up speed, tracing the shape of your back down to your ass where he takes hold of it, fingers digging into the muscle.

He pulls up a little, searching for your lips with his own, tongue delving into your mouth as you give him what he wants. Both of you moan into each other, muffled and needy until Steve’s body stutters and his heat spills into you over and over.

He thrusts with each burst of ecstasy that overtakes him. His groans grow lazy. His body loose. Your own is already numb and you go still beneath him as he trails lazy kisses along the misty skin of your neck and shoulders.

He sighs, laying his head against your clavicle where he relaxes on top of you, your hands gently stroking his back.

You steal a glance at Maggie in her crib, but she’s sound asleep. It relaxes you to know she’s unbothered and without meaning to, you and Steve both fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

A loud thumping makes you twitch. It sounds distant but it startles you anyway.

In your arms, something large moves.

Your sleepy mind reminds you that it’s Steve and you sigh in your semi-sleep as your hands enjoy the feel of his hot body still resting on top of your own.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The thumping returns, this time louder and clearer.

A quiet whine to your right wakes you more quickly than the thumping and like you’ve been stunned with Thor’s lightning, you spring up from the bed, quickly sliding out from beneath Steve who also whines at your moving but peeks up at you as you rise.

“Whereyewgoin?” He asks, still mostly asleep.

“Go back to sleep.” You whisper to him from beside Maggie’s crib.

BOOM! BOOM-BOOM!

The thumping, which is actually a knocking on your door you realize, repeats.

Maggie whines again and you frown.

“Who’s there?” Steve asks towards the door, his voice more annoyed then upset.

“It’s Agatha, your Majesty.” One of the guards outside speaks.

“Don’t speak for me.” Grandmother’s voice grumbles.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty.” The guard says nervously, probably worried about the knocking, which means that was Grandmother and not the guard.

You look at Steve as Maggie begins to wake, her cries soft but rising as you continue to try and soothe her but now only halfheartedly.

Fear grips you, stealing you of your voice as you stare at your husband. Your little girl’s cries grow louder as she wakes but you’re frozen in place, terrified of what Grandmother could not wait until the morning to tell you.

“What, my flower?” Steve suddenly asks, sliding to the edge of the bed towards you.

“I…I should see what she wants.” You whisper, afraid to speak any louder despite your daughter already being awake.

“Go.” Steve urges you, grabbing your nightdress and moving towards you. He offers it to you as he reaches you. “I’ll put Maggie back to sleep.”

You take the nightdress with trembling hands. If Steve notices he doesn’t say so, but you don’t think he does as he’s already lifting Maggie from the crib, moving back towards the bed.

You dress in a hurry, then move to grab Steve’s robe as it’s closer and pull it over your body.

You’re tying it closed as the door opens upon your approach and find Grandmother pacing the hallway behind the two guards assigned to keep you and Maggie safe.

After what happened with Pierce, Steve is taking no chances.

“Grandmother?” You check, voice stronger but still just as terrified.

“We must speak.” She tells you, her voice strong and her eyes full of severity.

With a tentative nod you have her follow you into Steve’s den next door, shutting the door securely before you move into the room and offer her a seat in front of Steve’s desk.

“No.” She waves your offer off, pacing as you take a seat because your legs are weak again. “I have found a solution.”

“So quickly?” You gasp, hands balled into tight fists on your lap as you watch her pace.

“The sooner the better I would think in this situation. This is nothing like I have ever done before.” She admits. “It will take all of my power to do it.”

“It…will it hurt you?” You wonder, worried for her withered body.

“Probably not.” She shakes her head. “No way to know for sure. But it’s something I’m willing to die for.”

“What?” You gasp, suddenly terrified of losing her.

Finally, Grandmother stops her pacing and moves to stand before you.

“This threat is greater than I first thought.” She admits, slowly sitting herself down in the seat beside yours, turning it so that she can face you. “We cannot allow this power to grow. We can either stop it here, right now. Or we can let your husband stop it later. If we allow him to do it, it will take his life. There is no doubt in my mind of that. There will be others. He will not be the only to perish.

“Stopping this threat now is for everyone’s benefit and if I must pay with my life to save many others, I will do so willingly.” She declares.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You shake your head, your emotions already raw.

“You’re not asking me, girl. I’m telling you that I must do it. I have already made my choice, now the only choice left to make is your own.” She fixes her gaze on you and you find you cannot look away.

“My own choice?”

“You asked me to save him. To ensure that he will live, a great sacrifice must be made. Separate from my own. I will provide the power, the strength for the incantation. Something else must be given for it to succeed.” Grandmother explains.

Your mind springs into action, thinking of the one thing you have of worth to give. Your life.

“So, I’ll…I’ll die?” You whisper, already in sorrow for leaving your husband and child.

“No.” Grandmother says. “No, I’m certain you will live.”

“Then what?”

“The price is impossible to know. It could be anything.” Grandmother gestures at you, looking you over from head to toe. “It could be your sight. Your ability to hear. Your voice. Your ability to walk. Whatever it is, it will be a great price to pay. Only you can choose to pay it but unless you do, I cannot go forward with the spell.”

“C-can I choose? Can I decide what it is that I sacrifice?” You hope, but what would you choose? What do you possibly have that could be worth your husband’s life?

“No. The magics will choose what to take. It will be equal to what it is you ask for, but only the magics can choose what that value is.” Grandmother explains.

This is impossible. This is unbelievable. This is torture.

You have to pay a price without knowing what it will be?

You know that your answer is yes. You’ll pay it. Whatever the price, you will give it willingly if it will save Steve’s life.

“I will pay it.” You nod. “Of course, I will. Yes.”

Grandmother takes your hand and squeezes it, a knowing look in her eyes. “I knew you would.”

She rises and you follow. Your hands feel weak but with the decision now made, you now it’s right and feel settled that you know this will soon be resolved.

Before the old woman can make it to the door, you reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her before she can leave.

“Grandmother…” You begin, waiting for her to turn.

She doesn’t. “Don’t get sentimental.” She says, voice strong though you’re sure that you can hear a small sadness in her tone.

“I want to thank you…for taking care of me. For loving me. I know that you could not always be there when I was young but you’re here now. Thank you.” You whisper, scared to speak louder in case you begin to cry. “I-I just wanted you to know. In case I cannot say it later or if you-”

You can’t even speak the words. She won’t die. She can’t.

With one withered hand, she reaches down and places it over your own. She gives you a squeeze, her hands trembling but reassuring.

“I don’t know when the spell will take effect. Go. Sleep soundly. Hold them close.” Grandmother advises then pushes your hand off her arm and disappears into the sleeping castle.

The very short walk back to your bedroom feels as if it takes forever. The guard make no comment as they open your door for you and you wander in, eyes searching for the loves of your life.

You find Steve snuggled up close to Maggie, his head pressed against the side of her own, his hand on her tummy and his eyes closed.

Maggie is not sleeping. She’s staring up at the ceiling with her little legs kicking gently as she coos and babbles her baby speak. One of her little hands is closed tightly around Steve’s finger, holding tight. As you move towards them, you notice how her hand doesn’t even close around his finger completely. She’s so small still. So fragile.

What if you can’t hold her after paying the price? What if you can’t hear her babble? What if you can’t see her little face or the way her eyes light up and her toothless smile spreads across her face as she spots you?

Just as she does now, she lets out a louder “Goo…” as she spots you and her legs go into a frenzy as she flails her limbs frantically.

You don’t want to cry but you feel the rush of sorrow overwhelm you. Quickly, before Steve can see, you drop onto the bed still wearing his robe and pull Maggie towards you. You hug her and turn her towards you, burying your face against her tiny chest.

Her little hands grab at you, whatever part of your head they can, and she pulls your ears, tugs your hair, scratches against your cheek but you don’t care. You inhale her scent, memorizing it just in case you lose the ability to smell.

After you’re sure you could never forget it, you tickle her sides until she’s giggling lightly, small bubbles and whines of amusement. It’s not a full laugh. She hasn’t done that for you yet. What if you never get to hear it?

You memorize this one anyway, put it away and lock it up within your heart where you know you will always be able to recall the pure sound of her innocence.

It takes every ounce of will power within you to stifle your desire to sob. Still, you manage it and when you’re certain you can face him, you pull back a bit to look at your daughter’s beautiful face.

She’s all Steve. You hardly recognize anything in her looks of you. She’s gorgeous. Pretty blonde hair, just like Steve’s only slightly darker in shade.

Her eyes are a piercing blue. Lighter than Steve’s but just as observant. She watches you, reaches out for your face where she places a small hand on your nose then slides it down to your lips which she casually grabs and releases before her eyes find her hand and she brings it to her mouth to taste.

You watch her for so long, you’re sure that it must nearly be morning, but the sky continues to be dark outside the windows of your room.

You sing to your little one. A quit lullaby that you hope she’ll remember if you can never speak to her again. You tell her you love her and sing some more.

She drifts off eventually, her little mouth open as she sleeps.

Finally, you turn your eyes on Steve, yearning to see him almost to an unnatural amount. You have never doubted it but in this moment as your eyes find him staring right back at you, you realize how much you truly love him. How much he’s changed your life.

Your world has grown since you met him. He’s changed you forever.

Will the sacrifice be your life? Will you be leaving them behind? Will you be wounding him again, just as Margaret had?

Even though Grandmother said it wouldn’t be, you can’t help but wonder and worry that you might very well be spending the last moments you’ll ever have with him and Maggie now.

What if you close your eyes and they should never open again?

At least she would have him. Maggie wouldn’t be alone. She would have her father. And he would have her.

If by some chance her father should also leave her behind, she’d have Nat and Bucky. She’d have Sam and Peter. She’d have the entire team to care for her. Father and Mother would probably try and take her to Malibia.

She would never need to worry about her meals or whether she could survive frigid winter temperatures. She would be protected and loved even if you aren’t around to make sure she is.

Steve blinks slowly. He’s sleepy but he’s trying to stay awake because you’re awake.

You’re not sure if he can tell that something is wrong, but you push yourself up towards him. You’re careful as you hover over Maggie, reaching to hook your hand behind his neck as he also pushes himself up and towards you.

You kiss him, slow and smooth until your heart begins to ache and your hand squeezes around his neck.

You kiss him with a bit more fervor and though he returns it, when you pull away, his brow is narrowed in confusion. Subtle concern.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, reaching down to trace the shape of his bottom lip with your thumb. You kiss him again. “I love you, forever.”

It’s a promise you have every intention of honoring. Will he love you even if you can’t talk? Will he love you if you can’t hear? Will he still love you if you are not the woman you are now?

You know that you can overcome anything. You can embrace a new way of living so long as it means that Steve and Maggie are safe. But will he see it that way? Will he love you for the woman you will become?

“You’re my entire world, Y/N.” He whispers back almost as if he can hear your thoughts and he wants to put you at ease.

His lips curl up at the corns softly as he blinks even slower than before as sleep begins to pull him under. “You and Maggie are my life.”

Your lip trembles as his eyes shut and do not open again, his head falling to his pillow.

“I love you…so…” He trails off, his words lost to dreams.

You stare at him and then Maggie. All night you stare at them, memorizing the way they breathe and smell. If you’re going to be changed forever, you’re going to remember this moment and cherish it until the day you die.

You will never forget it.

~~~~~~~~~~

1 Year & 3 Months Later

The sun is beaming. It’s strong. July is hot, even more so than normal. You groan as you look up to the sky and shield your eyes from the blinding light.

For a moment your mind goes hazy, full of fog. Something changes as it always does. Something shifts.

Something tugs at the corners of your mind. Something blurry and demanding. You get this way every single time you come here.

Every time you fill the wooden bucket, there’s a flash of something familiar.

You focus on the tug, allowing it to unearth the secret that eludes you.

There’s a quick flash that you don’t quite see. A golden hue. A storm blue circle.

Then your bucket overflows and the water splashes your feet, drenching your newly mended shoes.

They’re too small for your feet but it’s all you have.

“Damn.” You sigh, grunting as you lift the bucket and place it on the damp bank of the river.

Across the barren field, your little hut just at the opposite edge nestled into a grove of forest trees, Bright Rise begins to wake.

Another day, another scramble to find a way to keep your belly full.

“Time to check the traps.” You sigh, groaning as you lift the bucket and begin the trek back to your little hovel in the only village you’ve ever known.

The place you were born, but most definitely not home.

Your heart tells you that somewhere out there…somewhere else, your true home waits.

(THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!)

[whump-town]

God’s Gonna Cut You Down

Part 2!! (you can find part 1 here)

Warning: threat of domestic abuse and you know bad words

January 1972

It had been mortifying when Richard was caught with another woman and his prideful smile and easy shrug of the situation had only hurt Mary that much more. Through everything else, the drinking and the yelling and the hitting, Mary had still been able to tell herself that Richard did these things because he loved her. Extra whiskey washed down his stress, made him smile easier, and touch her like he meant it. When he raised his voice she’d already left him no other options, she just can be so forgetful. And… he’d only hit her a few times. Always when he was drunk and she’d messed something up. Anyone could forgive that.

The affairs… that was the first time Richard had done something with the explicit intent of hurting her. He hadn’t even cared when she’d cried. Had smiled when she told him about her friends, the way they meet her with high noses and expressions of disgust. He’d spun her into a pit of isolation, her own mother didn’t even want anything to do with her.

Persistently, desperately, Mary kept going back to her mother. She knew about her father, the affairs he had with his students over the years. Praying on the young university girls, the very reason they had hesitated to send her to Mary Baldwin. In the end, money and her pleading won through and she went to get a degree in English her eyes on being a teacher. That’s where she met Richard, five years older and making his way through law school.

Her mother might snuff her now but she is no different, neither are any of the women who treat her so differently now.

Her mother had caved after a few months, grew afraid of the way that weight seemed to melt off of Mary. It was unhealthy and fearing her daughter’s life she’d succumbed to her and offered her the advice that had been given to her: a child. Unfaithful men are just confused but this is not beyond Mary’s control, she just has to give him something to have. Men just need a little extra help, they’re just confused. They understand possession, though, and while they might not be afraid to hurt the lives they've made with wives give him a child and he’ll change.

That’s all it takes.

Having a baby was supposed to fix everything. Mary’s mother told her that babies make men happy and that if she wanted to settle Richard to settle down then a baby would do just that.

But she kept losing the babies. A little girl who they hadn’t named, blindsided by their grief. Two miscarriages far too soon in the pregnancy. Another when Richard pushed her into the stairs-- she’d told him it was for another reason and they didn’t tell a soul they even pregnant. After that, they stopped keeping track and she stopped telling him when one kept or when one didn’t.

Mary Hotchner might not make good on a lot of her promises but this time, she tells herself, this time is different. He’s just so little, hardly the size of her forearm. He’s their second chance, this tiny little baby is going to save their marriage. How wouldn’t he? Always watching the world around him, hardly ever cries, and always content just to be placed in the swing so long as he can see everyone.

She’s just changed him when Richard gets in. “Do you want to hold him?” she asks with a hopeful smile. He’s swaddled in his blankets, arms tucked to his sides, and sleepy drunk on milk. “He’ll probably go right to sleep.” Richard only held him in the hospital, only when a nurse made him.

Richard looks at the baby in her arms, up to Mary’s dark brown eyes and back down to his son’s soft blue eyes. He scoffs, “I don’t want to touch that little bastard.” He throws his briefcase down on the floor, kicking his shoes off in the same general direction. Carelessly, he brushes past them. “Why don’t you go give him to the bastard you had to have fucked to make him?”

Mary scrambles, unsure what to do. “Rich--”

He turns, blind with rage and she can feel the force of his words hit her sternum. Feels the baby in her arms jolt at the impact, whimpering as he squirms in his confines. “Don’t!” Richard demands leveling his finger at her. His eyes flick to Aaron and she holds him closer, turning her body so that she’s between them. Aaron cries out, kicking at the blankets wrapped snuggly around him. Richard lurches forward. “Shut him up!” Mary steps back. “I said shut him up before I--”

This baby is a second chance to their marriage, it’s going to change everything she just knows it.

----------

March 1973

Toddling on baby fat legs and clutching the sippy cup in his left hand, Aaron follows his mother across the lawn. Occasionally, he stumbles but is quick to right himself clutching at his mother’s freely billowing dress and going on. He’s much smaller than the other babies, underweight and not very tall, but he’s only a year and three or four months so he’s got time to blow them away. Mary’s positive her bright boy will manage it. He’s smart, they’ll see, small but he’s so very smart. Just like his daddy.

“Come here,” Mary beacons the baby from the edge of the backyard. His back is turned to her but she knows the look that has taken over his features. Those dark eyebrows knitting together as he dances his little fingers across his sippy cup-- brain working a mile a minute to figure out what it is that he’s discovered now. He makes a little sound, more to himself than to her, before turning to face her. She gets a glimpse of that confused look before a bright smile breaks across his face and he squeals happily before running to her.

She’s not sure what it is but she doesn’t like it when he gets that close to the woods. The thick trees line the property and every chance he gets, if he’s not rolling in the mulch of her flower garden, he’s standing at the trees watching. Aaron’s always watching. It scares her just how silent he is, the way he makes nearly no sound when approaching and will stand forever just content taking in the world around him. She thinks that’s why she wants him nowhere near those woods.

The woods are full of death and she wants all of his life and his curiosity to stay away from it. She knows what it is, knows what the woods do to men. To little boys with a little too much curiosity.

“Come to mommy,” she praises, opening her arms and enveloping him. Wiggling about in her arms but not to get away just to make her hold tighter. So she does, groaning and squeezing him until he’s breathlessly giggling. Enthralled by the pressure of her arms and perfectly content with the warmth of the day and her love.

----------

December 1974

He’s been sick all week, succumbing to a fever ravishing his tiny body. Outside snow pours down in thick clumps, the other children howling with joy every few hours as their parents let them back out in it. Snowmen pop up in lawns and footprints betray every hiding spot they run to but there is a clear, unabashed joy eating through the neighborhood. Aaron can only listen for it, falling in and out of naps on the sofa. Sniffling miserably and basking in his mother’s attention when she comes with a thermometer and whatever remedy her mother had called to inform her of now.

Richard gets home early, taking the time to knock the snow off his work shoes before seeing the mop of dark hair that betrays his son’s inactivity for today. He drops his briefcase by the door, scowling as he glances in the kitchen and finds Mary frowning into a pot. “What’s the boy doing inside?”

Mary jumps, not expecting her husband to suddenly appear like that, not having heard him pull into the driveway. She puts the lid over the soup and wipes her hands on her apron. “Sick,” she answers quickly, not sure how Richard is expecting her to answer. Not sure which of his personalities she’s playing with. Afraid an answer of such quick, unapologetic truth will sour quickly but blindly hopeful for the man she married. The man so eager to have children.

Richard hums, turning on his heel, and Mary’s heart stops as she realizes he’s going right for her Aaron. She fists her apron in her hands waiting in fear of what he intends to do.

He squats down by the sofa. “Aaron,” Richard calls softly. He brushes a thick strand of his son’s hair from his face, the lock heavy with his sweat. His hand swallows the cheek he strokes softly, Richard never really thinks about how small his son is. Now, as he sees Aaron’s body curled in on itself, fingers clutching his blanket to his face, and he can’t deny just how small the boy is. “Hey buddy,” he whispers when Aaron’s eyes start to flutter.

Aaron looks up at his father but does not utter a word.

“Come here,” Richard picks him up. Moving him so Aaron can wrap his arms around his father’s neck before Richard tucks his blanket snuggly around him.

“Where are you going?” Mary asks, stepping back when Richard stands and moves from the living room. She has no idea what his intentions are. To take Aaron up to his room? The poor boy could hardly make it down them this morning. She’d had to carry him to the couch in fear of the way his little legs had shaken under him. Is he silently boiling over with rage? Going to throw her baby out into the snow, command that he acts like a child. Go play with the others?

Richard presses a kiss to Aaron’s forehead, rubbing his back when he rises, soothing Aaron’s mindless whimper. “He hasn’t been able to see the snow,” Richard whispers, mindful of the boy tucked against his neck. He can feel his raging fever against his own skin, too hot to the touch. “Gonna cool him off,” Richard explains with a smile.

He steps out on the porch, smiling back at his wife as he shuts the door. Aaron shifts uncomfortably against his chest but Richard settles on one of the porch chairs and brings the edges of his coat up over him. The world is softened by the snow and the old groan of the chair Richard rocks them back and forth on. Aaron’s breathing becomes laborious, his little chest heaving as he rasps on each breath. The silence makes the awful sound deafening.

“You with me, buddy?” Richard asks, pressing his cold hand back to Aaron’s face. His son isn’t much of a talker, not even at three or in the rage of his terrible twos. He’s always just been much more content to watch and hum out his little replies. Odd behavior for people of most ages but it’s nearly alarming from a three-year-old. The way he cocks his head to the side when asked a question, a little hum before he conjures up a one 0r two-word response.

Today Aaron writhes against Richard, whimpering at the weight across his chest. The way his lungs feel as if they’re swelling but he’s too young to know the words. “Hurts,” he whispers. “Hard.” Each breath is hard to pull in as if his lungs are trying to squeeze shut around it. They ache deeply, all over.

Richard keeps rocking. Rubbing Aaron’s back and humming the faint tunes of songs under his breath until, eventually, Aaron falls back to sleep. He doesn’t carry the boy back inside until Mary calls them in for dinner. Richard holds his son through dinner, cherishing the way Aaron clings to him. 

There will be very few moments like this ever again between father and son.

[hellreads]

Do you any super angsty fics like angsty angsty

hi there love, as I was checking my shelf for some angsty angsty fics to recommend I ended up pulling 50+ gvjhakgsdhjgsdjfk so I highly suggest you just check the angst fics I read here, but I will still be recommending the ones that I find really angsty, the ones that tear a hole in my heart, the ones that made me cry buckets of tears out of heartbreak and pain, the ones that haunt me and pull out all the sad feels from me whenever I’m reminded of these stories. 

p.s. I will sort this by member and will try to just list at least three or maybe five, okay five it is per member ~ the ones that made me feel very very angsty and very very emotional T_T | 🍒

Kim Namjoon

❥ Cut by @chimchimsauce➴ Anti-Soulmate!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Namjoon always hated soulmates.

❥ Covenant by fringesofsanity➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Namjoon x Reader | Series➴ You are betrothed to Kim Namjoon, the heir of a real estate mogul. To say that it was a fairytale romance would be erroneous. You’re instead loped in the sad tale of the rich and melancholy.

❥ Ride or Die by @jungcock➴ Bestfriends/Road Trip!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Jungkook was a terrible boyfriend, always abandoning you on the side of the road midst your many road trips. Thankfully, you had Namjoon to come pick you up every time he did and it was about time you reward him for it.

❥ Nothing Like Us by @chiminiemoans➴ Exes/Lovers!AU | Namjoon x Reader | Two-Shot➴ Your ex hears about your new toxic relationship and that is the jump start to get him going out to look for you. With the worry and jealousy he feels consuming him whole, he questions if he made the right decision in letting you go in the first place

❥ Not The One by @personawife➴ Soulmate!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ There’s a fault in the cosmic system.

Kim Seokjin

❥ Epiphany by @floralseokjin➴ Exes!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Sometimes it’s best to remember the past is just a memory…

❥ 2,561 Days by @gossamie➴ Marriage/Divorce!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Two years of marriage could not stop the relationship from falling apart. As an attempt to seek closure before the divorce, Seokjin and you retrace your seven years together.

❥ Seven Seconds in Heaven by @jimlingss➴ Married!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ In the moment of your death, Heaven drops the hammer of punishment; making him travel back in time to relive memories that can never be changed. Seven memories. Seven minutes in each. Seven seconds before they are ripped away.

❥ Currents by @yeoldontknow➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Jin thinks he’s loved you since the moment he saw you, back when you were teenagers; Jin knows he’s been in love with you, the soul burning kind of love, since he saw you on your wedding day. He doesn’t mind that you don’t reciprocate on his level, he’s just happy to show you he cares. Until one day, he simply can’t anymore. Until one day, you realize you need to show him you care, too.

❥ Bad Guy by @sweetbunnykook➴ Married/Mob!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Hoseok x Yoongi | Series➴ After a brutal attack in Hong Kong, your marriage with Kim Seokjin cracks as secrets begin to surface and a series of betrayals find their way into the veins of the Hidden Tigers. Although Jin’s devotion endures, in his own definition, the reality of being a mob wife may be too much for you to bear.

Min Yoongi

❥ Please Be Naked by @floralseokjin➴ Rebound!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Namjoon | Series➴ You find it’s easy to become addicted to a distraction…

❥ Wildest Moments by @joonbird➴ Infidelity/F2L!AU | Yoongi x Reader | Series➴ “Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart.”

❥ Dead Leaves by wrienne➴ Married/Detective!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Jimin | Series➴ In which you (reader) are a homicide detective about to face the biggest hurdle both of your career and life.Married to probably the kindest but most boring man you’ve ever met and living in a town where nothing ever seems to happen means life for you is dull. Dull enough to drive you crazy with boredom and dissatisfaction. However, life changes abruptly when your old boss retires and a new man takes his place - a man you used to love (and sleep very regularly with) more than a decade ago. Especially when your husband comes home smelling of perfume, you’re unable to resist your more carnal urges and dead women start showing up across the city with unnerving frequency.

❥ Cheating by @jhspetitegf➴ Married/Infidelity!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Jimin | One-Shot➴ Married too young, too fast, the temptation is too great when an alluring stranger shows you the attention you crave.

❥ To Be Without by @serenililly➴ Producer!AU | Yoongi x Reader | Series➴ Funny how the world can shift in an instant. How you approached your bedroom with excitement only to walk away with a life forever changed.

Jung Hoseok

❥ Piece by Piece by @underthejoon➴ FWB/F2L!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Hoseok | Drabbles | Series➴ You’re in love with your best friend but you’re using someone else to forget. love triangle.

❥ The Gentlemen’s Club by @brookelegend➴ Gentleman/Club!AU | Hoseok x Reader | Series➴ You’ve been in a dating drought, more specifically, a sex drought. Your best friend has the perfect remedy for your problem: The Gentlemen’s Club.

❥ Ask and You Shall Receive by @floralseokjin➴ Sugar Daddy!AU | Hoseok x Reader | Series➴ Your sugar daddy says you don’t have to sleep with him if you don’t want to…trouble is, you do want to. You’re just nervous and a little inexperienced, but he catches on quick and begins to teach you the true pleasures of sex, and boy, are they good…

❥ Fake Love by @aquaminwrites➴ E2L/Fake Dating!AU | Hoseok x Reader | One-Shot➴ Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend.The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

❥ Call Out My Name by @hobiwonder➴ Exes!AU | Hoseok x Reader | One-Shot➴ Hoseok needed closure.

Park Jimin

❥ Ineffable by fringesofsanity➴ FUBU!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ You’ve only bared your body to Jimin, mostly silent after the act. The one time you do, you find yourself baring your soul to him, far more than you bargained for.

❥ Right Person, Wrong Time by @mortaljin➴ Fuckboy!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Park Jimin is a name that holds no significance in your heart right now. But it is a name that will haunt you for years.

❥ Slight Changes by @chiminiemoans➴ Idol/Infidelity!AU | Jimin x Reader x Taehyung | Series➴ Taehyung gets caught.

❥ Everything by @kpopfanfictrash➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ It’s funny how there are certain moments in your life which define you.

It’s funny how when you’re asked what was memorable to you in a year – the first things you think about are an odd, assorted jumble which make absolutely no sense out of context. People, faces, random speeches and words that moved you. I, for some reason, always think of a book. Last year, it was 1Q84. The year before that, it was The Name of the Wind.

I always think of a book – and then of Jimin.

❥ We Have One Hour Left to Live by @gossamie➴ Lovers/Apocalypse!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ The world is ending soon. How will you and Jimin spend your last hour on this earth?

Kim Taehyung

❥ Dichotomy by @kpopfanfictrash➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ You hate him. He hates you. It’s a fine line though, isn’t it – between love and hate?

❥ When You Least Expect It by @johobi➴ F2L/Lovers!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

❥ Who Cares by @floralseokjin➴ Lovers/Infidelity!AU | Seokjin x Named OC x Taehyung | Series➴ What happens when Taehyung falls for someone who’s already taken? Can he control his feelings or will they take over and render him powerless? In the end is it all her fault or his…?

❥ Clandestine by @ditzymax➴ Assassin!AU | Taehyung x Named OC x Jungkook | Series➴ As a professional assassin, Kim Kinsoo has many shrouded secrets in her life. Some of them she shares openly with her loving boyfriend, but there are other things he must never know.

❥ I Must Still Want You by @filmflowersbangtan ➴ F2L!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ //

Jeon Jungkook

❥ Right of Way by fringesofsanity➴ Infidelity!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ In theory, things were simple: your best friend was Jungkook’s girlfriend while your boyfriend, Jimin, was Jungkook’s best friend. In reality, things weren’t always that simple. And mutually exclusive.

❥ Only You by @sweetbunnykook➴ Stalker/Lovers!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Seokjin x Namjoon | Series➴ Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

❥ Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr➴ Time Travel/Married!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day.

❥ 2U by @sokiijk➴ Surrogate!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ You were simply trying to make a living and give the opportunity of having children for the women who couldn’t. You meet a couple who plans to have a steady life — you being the last puzzle piece for it all. But you acknowledge the boyfriend, Jungkook, who questions if he actually wants it.

❥ Animal by @cutaepatootie➴ Boxer!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ //

~ so that’s it! I hope you enjoy these recommendations, I do have a lot on my shelf so check them out if you want more, some of these stories are angsty through and through while others have this calm before the storm vibe and the angst will hit you hard it’ll hurt, prep a box of tissues (especially for those Jin fics, I cried the most reading them T_T) 

[astrologerfamouspanditji]

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[ourimpavidheroine]

A scene that always sticks out to me would be when Wing is just on the floor, staring dumbstruck up at Nuo and Yumi just like someone go help him haha. And another would be Lin and Mako sitting at that lake and fishing, smoking their pipes. I dunno why but that one sticks with me. And one more would be Wu with Qi, scaring the shit out of Willow's husband in Chun's garden. Love it when Wu gets his king on!

Oh god, poor Wing. Chapter 2 of Dear Diary. That was a lot of fun to write!

"Are you a child?" she said, standing up on her tiptoes to throw another thwack to Tu's head. "And on His Majesty's brand new rug! Really!" She turned her gaze to Wei. "You must be one of the Beifong twins." Her tone said exactly how she felt about Beifong twins rolling about on my rug. (Hint: Not positively.)

"That one's Wei," said Huan mildly.

"On His Majesty's brand.new.rug," she repeated to Wei, who hung his head.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Wing hadn't moved. He was still staring up at her, mouth gaping open like a koi. Wei kicked him, none too gently. "What's wrong with you? Get up!"

"Guuuuh," replied Wing. Nuo frowned down at him and he moaned.

"That one's Wing," added Huan.

"I see," said Nuo, slowly. "Are you injured?"

Wing made a strangled noise.

"Do you need assistance?" Nuo raised an eyebrow.

Wing opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Oh dear.

"Oh now, that's one of the saddest things I've ever seen," said Yumi, shaking her head from her spot by the door. "Someone go and do something for that poor boy."

Mako shook his head back at her before getting up and grabbing Wing by his tunic, yanking him up. "Come on, big guy," he said, and walked him over to a chair, pushing him so that he sat down. Wing looked at Mako, who patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "It happens that way sometimes," he said.

The Lin and Mako one is from Chapter 9 of The Further Tales of Lin Beifong. I felt like I owed the two of them their own time together and went back and forth how I could do it without being sentimental. I was playing my Hou-Ting family Sims game (yes, I really am that big of a nerd) and my Lin and Mako Sims just up and went fishing together and BOOM! I had it.

Once they'd finished their breakfast, the Chief picked up a pole. "You ever been fishing before?" At Mako's shake of his head, she opened up the basket and showed him how to bait the hook before explaining and then demonstrating how to cast the pole. "Soft and easy, no need to fling the damn thing," she said, and after a few false starts Mako got the hang of it. She showed him how to hold it. "You start to feel a tug on the line, you give it a sharp jerk to set the hook and then start reeling it in. Net's there; I'll give you a hand since you're new at it and all." With that she cast her own pole and then sat down on her stool, surprising Mako to the core of his very being by pulling a pipe out of her jacket pocket and handing it over to him to light. At his look she shrugged. "Just a fishing thing." She pulled out another one and handed it to him without a word. Mako lit his up and sucked on it; the tobacco was unexpectedly sweet and smokey at the same time, far better tasting than the cigarettes he snuck behind Wu's back.

They sat there for a time, smoking their pipes and occasionally checking their hooks for bait. The morning air had a bit of a bite to it; it was chilly, but the air felt fresh and smelled divine. Mako was a city boy, through and through, but he thought, sitting there smoking that pipe, with the rising sun warm on his shoulders, that he'd never been anywhere more lovely or peaceful in his entire life.

The Chief tapped the ashes out of her pipe and then stowed it away. "I learned how to fish from Katara. Tenzin's mother, you know?" She smiled a little. "Aang was a vegetarian, of course, but Katara never had been and every once in awhile she'd sneak away and get a little fishing in. She'd taken Bumi with her once upon a time but he got older and joined the Navy and she used to take me after that."

They were silent for a time. The Chief put her pole between her clamped knees and poured herself a little tea, drinking it before shifting the pole back into her hands.

And yes, the scene in Lady Chun’s garden in Chapter 6 of A Song Of Spring And Autumn. I really wanted to show Wu’s brand of ruthlessness; I rewrote that scene a few times until it really felt right to me. (I also wanted to get across that the only reason Qi didn’t wholesale murder Willow right there was that they really liked Lady Chun and wouldn’t want to upset her. I think I managed.)

“Fuck His Majesty,” she sneered at me. “It’s just like you’ve said. No one needs anything from him. He’s just a liability at this point.”

Tsai went pale and started to sputter, his eyes bulging. “Your Majesty! I…I beg you, please…”

Qi was staring at Willow. I’d never seen that particular expression on Qi’s face before. It was a little frightening, Progeny. Qi is normally the calmest of people; I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I have seen Qi anything but completely unruffled. That is just Qi’s nature. The way Qi was staring at Willow, however, made me wonder if Qi had ever actually used any of those knives on another person. I am not sure if Qi was even breathing; Qi was that still and that focused on her. I turned my gaze towards Chun’s home and started to speak.

“Do you know your history, Tsai? History was my favorite subject, as it happens. In fact, I read through most of the historical tomes we had at the palace in Ba Sing Se and I can promise you that was no small feat. The library was extensive.” I brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of my trousers. “How much do you know about Hou-Ting XVI?” I flicked a glance towards Tsai. He was staring back at me in a kind of horror.

“Oh, history. Delightful,” spat out Willow. “What’s next? How to suck off policemen?” Tsai gasped. I ignored Willow and continued.

“Well, it was some time ago and there were, after all, a great many Hou-Tings before I took the throne, so I’ll forgive you for not knowing who she was off the top of your head.” I gestured dismissively with my hand. “No need to get into great detail, but the salient part of her history I wish to draw your attention to is that she fell in love and married an earthbender.” I tsked. “Terrific scandal at the time, of course. What if children of the union should be benders? You can simply imagine how people reacted. So a small group of nobles got together and decided to remedy the situation. Her husband was found dead one day not long after the wedding. He’d been poisoned.” I smiled. “Ah, nothing says Earth Kingdom nobility like a good poisoning! It’s one of the favored weapons, you know. In fact, that’s how my own father was done away with, although at the time it was widely put about that he accidentally choked to death.” I leaned over towards Tsai and whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t believe it. My great-aunt had him killed, compliments of the Dai Li.” I sat back up. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. Back to Hou-Ting XVI. She was, by all accounts, very distraught about the death of her husband. She abdicated, ensuring that her younger brother, Hou-Ting XVII, took the throne in her place. She left Ba Sing Se and disappeared. When asked, her brother told everyone that she had retired to a life of meditation and reflection.”

“Thrilling story,” said Willow, rolling her eyes.

“Oh no, that’s the tragic part. The thrilling part came later. You see, a series of accidents started happening to the families of the nobles who had plotted against her husband. A child who wandered away from her nanny, found drowned at the bottom of a well. A wife trampled in the street by out of control ostrich horses. An oldest son set upon by thieves, his throat cut. It wasn’t just immediate family, either. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins - entire families were slowly weeded out over the years. Never any of the nobles who had actually done the plotting, however. No, they were left alive. Of course they were.” I turned to look Tsai in the eyes and I smiled. It was most certainly not a nice smile. “They were meant to suffer. They were meant to see everything they had ever loved torn away from them, from the tiniest of babies to the oldest of grandmothers. These nobles, they finally went to her brother, Hou-Ting XVII, and begged him to help them, to somehow intervene on their behalf. He told them there was simply nothing he could do, that even a King cannot control fate. And then he told them that since they had no heirs, their lands and titles would be given to other families. They left the palace, nameless and destitute. Alone.”

Tsai was staring at me. I shrugged gracefully with one shoulder. “Mind you, no one ever saw Hou-Ting XVI again. So perhaps she really was living a life of meditation and reflection. It might have been just poor luck, hmm?”

“Your Majesty,” he whispered.

“Now of course these are civilized times we live in. I suppose if I wanted to show my displeasure I could threaten you with the untimely and public reveal of something faintly sordid, like the fact that you spend a great deal time at an establishment that caters to men of certain tastes.” I waggled my finger at him. “Not that I judge, mind you. After all, as has been clearly established, I do sordid things with a common policeman. What I don’t do, of course, is pay money to have commoners tie me up and beat me for sexual pleasure.” I glanced at Willow, who was staring at her husband, mouth open. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, Willow. After all, he’s not breaking any laws. The establishment itself is legal and pays its taxes. All on the up and up! After all, if you can’t satisfy him, then why begrudge him a little money for something that can?”

“You told me that the bruises were from training,” she said, and when he reached towards her she slapped at his hands, her face furious. “How could you? At that place? What will people say of you? What will people say of me?” She burst into tears before turning and running down the steps of the pavilion, back to the house.

“Secrets and lies,” I said sorrowfully. “They’ll ruin a marriage, you know. But never fear, dear Tsai.” He looked back at me, a stunned expression on his face. “Royalty does not engage in such squalid diversions as threats. Royalty certainly does not espouse blackmail.” I sniffed. “Nasty little thing, blackmail. Far beneath me, I assure you. No, I would never do that. That little tidbit will never go any further than this garden. You have my word.” I smiled at him. “My word as a prince of the house of Hou-Ting.” I let the smile drop, and I leaned towards him. “However, as a king? Well, I couldn’t guarantee what I might do as a king. Such fickle creatures, kings. They tend to think they can do anything they want to, kings. Not surprising, of course, seeing as they are above the law. Why, a king might even cut your wife’s filthy little tongue right out of her mouth for the insult she gave to the king’s consort and children, not to mention the king's dearest friend! No, it is probably best for everyone if I remain simply a Highness instead of a Majesty, don’t you agree?” I reached into my jacket and pulled a piece of paper from an inner pocket, holding it out to him. He automatically took it and unfolded it, looking down to read it. His face went even paler than before. I smiled at him again. “Perhaps you can convince your friends of the same. When you next meet, of course. Next week in Ba Sing Se, yes? At the suite at the Imperial Jade Hotel?”

“How…” he whispered, and I laughed. I was actually amused at that point, Progeny. It was a real laugh.

“Oh, come now! Tsai! Did you think I didn’t know? Did you really?”

“Your Maj-” He swallowed. “Your Highness. I apologize for any offense I may have -”

I cut him off with a hand wave. “Yes, yes, I know. Run on back to the house now, Tsai. This conversation no longer amuses me.” He bowed, deeply, and started to hurry away.

“Oh, but Tsai?”

He turned to look at me, his eyes haunted.

“The only reason we are even having this conversation is because of my love for Chun. I should genuinely hate to cause her a moment’s worth of pain for any reason whatsoever. That said, if you - or any of your friends - so much as touch a hair on any of my children’s precious heads, your lives will immediately be forfeit, without the benefit of conversation. Do I make myself entirely clear? I won’t say it again.”

He jerked out a nod and spun to make his way rapidly back towards the house. I closed my eyes. I sat for a few moments, simply breathing in the silence of the garden.

[skepticalcatfrog]

Shattered Crown Chapter 7

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter Masterpost

Summary: After disaster strikes in Prince Roman's kingdom, he must go on a quest in order to take back the crown that is rightfully his. He will travel with three companions on an epic adventure, gaining many friends and enemies along the way. Those three companions are an intelligent inventor with a mysterious past, a cheerful wizard with a dark secret, and.. the assassin who was sent to kill him two years prior.

Pairings: Logicality, (Eventual) Prinxiety, (Background) Remile

Word Count: 5,821

Author's Notes: This chapter got really long! But a ton of things happen in this chapter, so I guess that makes up for it? (For example, the Pairings section changed...)

Well, they were definitely right about it being crowded in Caeruleum. Small shops and stands lined the streets, merchants tending to each of their stands and calling out into the large crowds of people trying to get some customers.

All Logan could think about looking at all the different shops was that he knew there was a fortune teller in town. He didn't usually believe in that stuff, but it was a last resort. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't always rely on his logical mind for everything. Don't misunderstand, he definitely thought that it was a totally ridiculous concept that someone could see another person's future. But if this person was real, maybe they could give him answers as to what was happening to his arm. Even though he had a pretty good idea already.

Their goal was the castle, of course. It was just as grand as the castle in Shadowbrook, but way less intimidating. It was made of the same blue stone as the kingdom walls, and it had bits of gold splattered around the outside. The door was golden as well. It was mostly made of wood though, with golden swirls and designs on it. That would be where the sapphire necklace was, they were sure of it. So they weaved through the crowd, trying to get to the castle. It wasn't very easy. Everyone had somewhere to go, so they had to dodge a lot of people who were in a hurry. It was really loud, with conversations going on in every direction. Suddenly, a particularly loud voice came from somewhere close to them.

A merchant was calling out into the crowd, beckoning the people over to his stand. Still, no one was there. He was wearing sunglasses that blocked his eyes, and his hair was such a dark blue that it almost looked black. "Having trouble sleeping? I have tons of remedial crystals and herbs to help you out with that! And if that's not what you're looking for, we also offer fortune telling sessions!"

At this, the merchant had obtained Logan's full attention. "We have to go there. Just for a moment."

"But why? It's just like any of these other fake stands." Virgil gestured to all the rest of the shops.

"I mean… it wouldn't hurt to just check it out, right?" Patton agreed.

"Come on Virgil, let's just go! Patton's right, it couldn't hurt!" Roman nudged Virgil's arm lightly. "Plus, I'm kind of interested in the fortune telling anyway."

"Fine, let's just go." Virgil rolled his eyes as they walked over to the stand.

"Wow, I'm surprised! You actually decided to come over!" The merchant laughed. "You know, you four seem interesting! I've never seen a group like you, not a single one! And I see you keep good company!" He gestured towards Roman. "I sure didn't think my shop was good enough for a celebrity, but here we are! My name's Remy Picani, how can I help you today?"

This merchant certainly had a lot of energy. A surprising amount, given that he sold sleep remedies.

"Apologies Mr. Picani, but your shop wasn't what sparked my interest." Logan told him, stepping to the front of the group. "You said you offer fortune telling sessions, correct?"

"Yup, but I don't do 'em. You'd have to talk to my husband about that." Remy told them.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, leaning on a table that had a bunch of crystal necklaces on it.

"In the back, let me just tell him you're here." Remy pointed to a small tent behind his stand before disappearing inside it. Some muffled conversation could be heard from inside the tent. About a minute went by before Remy poked his head back out. "Alright, come on in."

The inside of the tent was pretty dark, most of the light coming from a crystal ball on a table near the back of the tent. An empty chair was on one side of the table, and there was another chair on the other side. In the second chair sat a man, probably Remy's husband. He had brown hair and brown eyes, pretty plain in basic appearance. There was a scarf tied around his head that shifted in color between light pink and light blue. His fingernails were each painted a different color. The glasses he was wearing reflected the light coming from the crystal ball. The second the four of them walked in, he gasped. His eyes widened and he stared at them.

"Oh my, you four are just riddled with problems, aren't you?" The fortune teller furrowed his brow in concern, watching the group enter.

"Yeah, I'd say that…" Virgil muttered, crossing his arms and shrinking into himself slightly. The rest of them nodded in agreement.

"I wonder what I might find in your futures…" The man at the table shuddered slightly at the thought. "Which one of you will be going first?"

Roman raised his hand hesitantly, glancing at the others for approval. None of them seemed too eager to go, so he went and sat in the seat opposite the fortune teller.

Just as he was about to start, Logan held a hand up to stop him. "Before you begin, if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"

"Emile. Emile Picani." He smiled, before turning his attention back to Roman. "I just want to warn you in advance, my fortunes can be a bit… confusing. They're more like prophecies, really."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad, just go ahead." Roman told him.

Emile nodded and got to work. He placed his hand on the crystal ball, and gestured for Roman to do the same. He did, and the ball began to glow. Emile's eyes reflected the light, making it look like they were glowing. Or maybe they were.

"Oh… well this isn't very good…" When he spoke, there was a slight echo in his voice. After those words, he stiffened slightly, and his movements became more robotic, as if he wasn't in control of his own mind. "You shall find joy in a place you least think to look. You shall return what the snake prince took. Whole once again, your kingdom will thrive. A bond that is broken, you will revive..."

"That doesn't sound too bad…" Roman was nervous still, hoping that there was nothing after that.

"He's not done." Remy, who was now standing next to the table, shook his head. Roman thought for a moment he saw something golden shine around the merchant's neck, but quickly brushed it off. It was probably nothing.

"But all of this fortune comes at a cost. Something gained, and something lost. Stuck in a place between life and death. 'Til you either awake, or take your final breath." The glow faded from both the crystal ball and Emile's eyes. "I'm sorry. That's definitely one of the more unfortunate fortunes I've told." The echo was gone from his voice.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad… right?" Roman looked at the other three in his group nervously.

"You're kidding, right?" Virgil crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "He literally just predicted your death, and you're saying it's 'not that bad'?"

"Well, not death necessarily." Logan pointed out. "We were told it was a place between life and death, which points more towards a coma."

"Still, that's bad." Patton agreed. "How about… I go next? Maybe mine will be less dark."

He went to sit in the chair, but hesitated for a moment. He leaned over to Emile and whispered something in his ear. They couldn't hear much of it, since Logan was really the only one paying attention, but what he heard was:

"If you see anything about…" Unintelligible. "Just don't say anything, please?" Now, what he was really saying, Logan would have to ask him about later.

They went through the whole fortune telling process again, Patton's prophecy-type-thing coming up still a bit unsettling, but not as dark as Roman's.

"A walk through the past along the shore. Always getting less, but looking for more. A leap of faith will turn the tide. A new beginning that trust will guide. Traveling down a familiar road. To pay a debt of which you owed. In order to save what you hold dear, you must face your biggest fear." As the glow faded, Emile was smiling. "Based on what I saw, I suggest that you go to the beach on the edge of the kingdom tonight. Behind the castle, where the wall cuts off. The sky is beautiful at night, and it reflects off the ocean wonderfully."

"Okay, but why?" Patton tilted his head slightly.

"No telling!" Emile laughed. "You'll just have to go and find out! You'll be pleasantly surprised, I promise."

"Alright then! Anyone else want to get a fortune?" Patton looked towards the rest of the group.

Virgil shook his head. "No, I think I'm good. Based on your and Roman's fortunes, I figure I probably shouldn't. Because, you know, stress and stuff."

"Okay, that's fine." Roman assured him. "Logan? What about you?"

"I think I might stay here for a moment, but you three can go outside or move on to our next destination." Logan responded.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want us to stay with you?" Patton stood up and walked over.

"Yes, that's quite alright." The inventor nodded.

"Okay then… I want to wait outside though." Patton insisted.

"Alright, that is perfectly fine." Logan nodded curtly.

Patton lead the other two back into the street, giving Logan a little wave before he left. Remy followed them out.

Logan then sat in the chair opposite Emile. He was about to start the fortune telling process, but Logan stopped him.

"I actually have a few more specific questions for you." He told him.

"And what are they?" Emile asked, leaning forward to rest on the table.

"Firstly, I need you to tell me what is going on with my arm." Logan gestured to his mechanical arm for good measure.

"You're right. About what you think it is." Emile told him. "And you have to tell Patton. I know you think that you don't, or that he wouldn't understand, but he would. He does. And if you don't tell anyone, your condition is just going to get worse and worse. Trust me, I'm a fortune teller."

He still didn't believe him. There was absolutely no way that Patton could understand what was happening to him, let alone want to hear about it.

"And secondly, I know this is a slightly strange question to ask, but how… how do you think that Patton feels about me?" Logan lowered his voice at the last part, knowing that the subject at hand was standing right outside.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd ask that!" Emile smiled, clapping his hands quietly. "He's so totally super in love with you! I could see it when you all came in."

"So what am I supposed to do about that?" Logan ran a hand through his hair stressfully.

"Go to the beach with him. Tonight, go with him and see what happens." Emile suggested.

"And what do I do once I'm there?" Logan crossed his arms.

"That's up to you. Fortune telling is a blessing and a curse, specifically for me. You see, I can tell people their futures, but only indirectly. As in I can't just say 'Oh, yeah, this is going to happen'. I can only make suggestions." Emile explained.

"Ah, I see. Well…" Logan sighed, standing up. "I'll be taking my leave now. Would you mind wishing me luck in my future endeavors?"

"Good luck, Logan." Emile smiled. Logan chose to ignore the fact that he somehow knew his name, even though he'd never heard it.

He left the tent and was met with the bright, loud street once again. Remy was back to work at his stand, and the rest of the group was just waiting for Logan.

"Ugh, finally. What were you doing in there for that long?" Virgil asked as he saw Logan.

"Nothing important." The inventor just shrugged it off. "So, to the castle?"

"Wait, you guys are headed to the castle? What for?" Remy paused his work for a moment to talk to them.

"We're trying to obtain the sapphire necklace." Logan explained bluntly. He thought he could see Remy tense up slightly, but not enough to confirm or deny anything.

"Well… um… well, tell me if you find it. Go go the castle first, of course… it's probably there…" The merchant seemed to be struggling to find words.

"Uh, yeah, I sure hope it is." Roman furrowed his brow. "We did come all this way just to find it."

"No, I'm not saying it's not there, I'm just saying that there's a possibility that it might not be there." Remy added quickly. "Just… fill me in on how it goes, okay?"

"O...kay? I guess?" Patton said uncertainly before the group walked away.

"Was it just me, or was that extremely shady?" Virgil lowered his voice so a minimum amount of people would hear him.

"Oh yeah, it was super shady." Roman agreed. "Why would he be interested in the necklace?"

"I don't know, and I agree that it was quite suspicious." Logan nodded.

"It was a little suspicious, but it also could have just been that he wanted to make sure we got what we came for." Patton pointed out.

"I suppose that's true…" Roman admitted.

They walked in silence for a while before getting to the castle. Luckily, in this kingdom, they didn't have to be as careful as they were in Shadowbrook.

"Excuse me?" Roman approached one of the guards who was standing at the gate. He took his hood down so they could get a better view of his face. "Me and my friends would like to see the king."

Of course the guards immediately recognized him, and let him in. There was a bit of trouble getting the rest of them in, but it was fine after Roman clarified that they were the friends he was talking about.

"It's really that easy?" Virgil said in slight disbelief, walking next to Roman towards the castle.

"I mean, yeah. I'm familiar with the royal family here." He shrugged. "The king was a good friend of my father, and the prince and princess were my friends. I didn't have any siblings, so they were kind of like that to me."

"So this should be pretty easy, yeah?" Virgil asked, to clarify.

"Yeah. Easier than the last one, since I'm not a wanted criminal in this kingdom." Roman laughed awkwardly.

Virgil smiled faintly at him as they walked. Patton and Logan were a little bit behind them, making light conversation as they approached the castle. The royals had been informed of their arrival, and were waiting for them just beyond the entrance. Immediately upon seeing Roman, a girl who looked about 16 sprinted towards him, her red curly hair bouncing around her face as she ran. She nearly tackled him in a hug.

"Oh my goodness Ro, we all thought you were dead!" The princess hugged him tightly, clearly reluctant to let go.

The Caerulean prince stepped forward as well. He definitely seemed more composed than his sister, and older as well. Maybe somewhere around 21. He was a bit taller than Roman, and had the same red hair as the princess. The only difference was that while she let her hair down, his was slicked back, seemingly to hide the curls. Another difference was that the princess had dark brown, doe-like eyes, and the prince had sharp green eyes.

"Welcome back, Roman." The prince smiled at him.

"It's great to see you guys again." Roman told the royals, then turned back to his friends. "Virgil, Patton, Logan, meet Ava and James. Ava and James, meet Virgil, Patton, and Logan."

Ava waved to them, smiling brightly. "Nice to meet you!"

"It's nice to meet you too!" Patton returned the smile.

"So, what brings you back to our kingdom?" The king asked, approaching the group.

"We…" Virgil trailed off for a moment, afraid of the reaction he'd get. "We came to ask if we could borrow the sapphire necklace."

"The… the necklace?" James furrowed his brow in confusion. "It's been missing for three years."

"Wha- missing?" Roman's eyes widened. "You're saying it's just… gone?"

"Unfortunately, yes." The king nodded solemnly. "It was stolen, and we haven't been able to find it."

"I saw it happen, but by the time I got help, they were already gone. With the necklace." Ava sighed. "All I know is that their eyes were like a galaxy. So many different colors, it was strange."

"Stolen…" Logan muttered, looking down at his feet. If you looked at him, you'd be able to see the gears turning in his brain.

"What is it?" Patton glanced over at him.

"Remy." Logan said bluntly.

"You really think…" Roman started to protest, but trailed off as he thought about it for a second.

"You saw the thief, correct? Did you tell the kingdom what you saw?" Logan pointed to Ava. She nodded. "So if the entire kingdom was looking for that specific feature, the person in question would hide it. Remy wears those dark sunglasses that hide his eyes. Also, he was acting extremely suspicious at the mention of the necklace."

"I feel like I should mention this…" Roman piped up. "I saw a golden chain around his neck, but it was mostly concealed, so I didn't get to see all of it. I just assumed it was one of the necklaces he had in his shop, so I didn't think much of it."

"Yes!" Logan then snapped his fingers and pointed at Roman, spinning to face him. "That's exactly what we needed."

"So should we go?" Patton asked.

"Yes, but one thing first: when we get the necklace, are we allowed to borrow it?" Logan turned towards the king.

"As long as you will bring it back afterwards." He nodded. "I trust Roman with it, his father raised him well."

"Thank you, your majesty." Virgil said quietly. He was still a bit nervous around the royals, even considering how comfortable the other three were around them already. To be fair, the only good experience he'd had with royalty was having Roman as a… friend. And with his luck, not anything else… but that's not the point. The point is, the only other times he'd been around royalty were in Shadowbrook, when she'd tried to kill them, and with Ethan's family. Honestly, they weren't that bad, it was mostly Ethan who was the problem.

"You're very welcome�� Virgil was it?" The king smiled kindly.

"Yeah. That's… that's me." Virgil nodded timidly.

"So, shall we get going?" Logan suggested.

"Yeah, let's." Patton agreed.

And they left the castle. They walked through the crowded streets with purpose until they found Remy's shop once again. The merchant smiled faintly as they approached.

"Well hello, what brings you four back to my stand?" He leaned on the table slightly.

"We need to go back to the tent." Roman told him.

"You got it, right this way." Remy lead the group back into the tent, and before he had time to react, Logan took the sunglasses right off of his face.

"Ha! I knew it!" Logan exclaimed triumphantly. The absence of sunglasses revealed Remy's eyes, which were a swirling galaxy of colors. "Give us the necklace! We know you have it!"

"What in the world is going on?!" Emile stood up, his hands on the table in front of him.

"He stole the sapphire necklace from the castle!" Patton explained briefly. Emile gasped.

"Remington Picani!" He scowled, stomping his way over to his husband. Remy blushed at the use of his full name. "Were you going to tell me that you stole an ancient artifact, or was I supposed to find out myself? From a group of teenagers?!"

"I was going to tell you!" Remy told him, earning a collective eye roll from the group. "What, I was!"

"When? We were told that the necklace has been missing for three years." Virgil raised his eyebrow. "I'm guessing you were planning on telling him sometime soon?"

"Three… years?!" Emile was the angriest they'd ever seen him. "Three whole years?!"

"Yes, but all we need is the necklace and we'll be out of your hair." Virgil promised, holding out his hand. "In other words, hand it over."

"Ugh, fine." Remy rolled his eyes and unclasped the necklace from around his neck, dropping it into Virgil's hand. The sapphire necklace looked beautiful. It was a deep blue, teardrop-shaped gemstone, with gold around the edges, hanging on a golden chain. Virgil instinctively handed it to Patton, who put it on. He felt the effect immediately, feeling like a sort of armor was put around his brain.

"Wonderful. Just to clarify, you four got permission to have that, correct?" Emile asked, gesturing to the necklace that was hanging around Patton's neck. They all nodded, and Emile sighed in relief before turning back to Remy. "Now, never pull a stunt like that ever again!"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, I won't." He promised, crossing his arms.

"Good." Emile seemed to be cooling down.

After a bit more discussion, the four left.

"So… what happens now?" Virgil asked. "Do we just… leave?"

"No, not yet." Patton shook his head. "We have to at least stay until night, we can find somewhere here to sleep. I've still got to visit the beach, remember?"

"You're really going to do that?" Roman raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Patton shot back.

"I don't know, I guess… if you go, and your thing comes true… that means mine will too." Roman told him.

"We don't know that." Virgil assured him.

"Do we, though?" Roman shrunk in on himself slightly. Virgil had never seen him this nervous about something.

They fell into a sort of awkward silence for a moment after that. They had so much to worry about, they didn't really know what their next step would be.

"Should we get some food?" Virgil suggested.

"We don't have any money." Logan pointed out.

"How about… finding a place to sleep?" Roman asked.

"Still no money." Logan repeated. "But maybe we could convince someone to give us a room."

"Probably, given the circumstances." Patton nodded.

They went around to a couple of different places, and it took a few tries, but they finally got a place to stay. They could only get one room, with two beds, so two of them offered to sleep on the floor. It ended up being Virgil, since he didn't sleep anyway, and Patton, since he wouldn't be there that long (Logan wouldn't either, but he was hesitant to mention that he was also planning on going to the beach).

A couple hours later, the sun had begun to set. But rather than the usual warm colors that the sky took on at that time, it was an array of cooler shades. The sky was painted with blues, sea greens, purples, blacks and grays, and many other shades.

Patton looked out the window, down at the street. Stars were starting to appear in the sky. He thought that right then would be a better time than any to start going. It seemed that everyone else was asleep at that time, even Virgil. So Patton got up, and left. He made sure that he had the pocket watch. It was like a lucky-ish charm to him.

The second the door closed behind Patton, Logan grabbed his glasses off of the nightstand next to him. He got out of bed, got his satchel, and left. When he got out into the hallway, he couldn't see Patton.

He walked as quietly as he could, because he knew that there were a lot of people sleeping in other rooms. Once he got outside, the first thing he noticed was how quiet everything was. There weren't many people in the street, and it was kind of strange. Unsettling, almost. He walked past the castle, running his real hand along the rough stone. His mechanical arm was almost entirely inanimate. He could only hope that this would fix it.

When he got to the beach, he saw Patton sitting cross-legged by the water, gazing out towards the horizon. He'd taken off the jacket, boots, and hat that he usually wore, and they were sitting on a grassy patch a little ways away. Probably because he didn't want to get sand on them. He was left wearing a white short sleeved shirt, which showed off the freckles on his arms, and light blue pants. He was holding something in his hand, which Logan identified as the pocket watch he'd had the day before. The moonlight was shining on him, giving him a slight glow. And he looked absolutely breathtaking.

"Logan?" The inventor heard Patton's voice, which pulled him out of his thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

"I… I wanted to see how you were doing." He lied.

"Well, there's been nothing yet." Patton sighed. "I'm starting to think this whole thing wasn't true."

"It's possible… but don't lose hope." Logan attempted to be an optimist, sitting down next to Patton. He knew he had to tell him the truth… but he didn't know what he'd do once he did. "I… actually came here to talk to you."

"Oh?" Patton looked over at Logan. "What is it?"

"I wanted to tell you what's really happening to me." Logan explained. "I said I was fine, but… I'm not. And I need to tell you why. I need to tell you about my past."

"Logan… you don't need to tell me that." Patton shook his head. "I know you don't like talking about it."

"But I do, I do need to tell you about it, because if I don't I'll just keep getting worse and worse." He told him. "I know of a spell that can show other people someone's memories… do you know that one?"

Patton nodded, slightly wide-eyed. "So I can just… do it?"

"Yes, you can." Logan told him.

Patton held his hands out, placing one over Logan's heart, and the other on his forehead. His hands began to glow light blue, and their surroundings changed.

They were standing in a small village in front of a small cottage. Logan's home. A little boy, looking about 5 or 6, walked up to the house and knocked on the door. He didn't have glasses, but it was clear that this boy was Logan. He was holding a couple of tiny crystals in either hand. The door opened, to reveal a man and a woman, one with Logan's dark hair and the other with Logan's dark eyes. Young Logan gave them the crystals, and they moved aside to let him come in.

"They wanted to be rich. There was a cave just outside town, and they'd sent me to collect crystals. Because they didn't want to risk it. They'd rather send me, a child, than try to go themselves." Present Logan explained.

The scene shifted. They were still at the same house, but Logan had gotten older, maybe 13. And he had his glasses now. He had a bag, which was filled with crystals. Patton recognized it as the satchel that he had in the present day. His parents opened the door again, taking the bag and looking through it before closing the door again. They came back after a moment holding the bag, which was now empty. They handed it back to him and closed the door in his face, leaving him looking heartbroken.

"They used to let me come back in after one trip, but as I got older, they made me stay out longer. I wished they'd just come with me, once, just one time, and one day they did…" The scene shifted again, and this time they stood in a big, dark cave, the only light coming from crystals on the wall. Logan was leading his parents through, occasionally picking a crystal from the wall. Everything seemed fine, until the cave started shaking. Rocks fell from the ceiling, raining down fast. They started out small, but got bigger quickly. The entire room filled with dust, and when it settled, Logan's parents were gone. He was on the ground, covered in dust, glasses cracked, and one of his arms pinned down by a large boulder.

"I ended up losing that arm. Both my parents died. And the worst part was, it was my birthday. This was four years ago." Logan's expression was filled with a sadness that Patton had never seen before. His eyes were shining with tears. The scene went dark, and they were back on the beach. "Now every year, on my birthday, my arm starts malfunctioning. It's like an anniversary. But it's never been this bad."

"Logan, I'm so sorry… I had no idea." Patton reached out hesitantly and took Logan's hand. His heart soared when he felt Logan squeeze his hand gently. "While we're on confessions… I actually have something to talk to you about too." He took Logan's other hand, placing one on his own heart and the other on his forehead. He covered Logan's hands with his, and performed the spell again. To Logan's surprise, they were in a castle.

"Where are we?" He furrowed his brow.

"Just watch." Patton responded.

Logan heard yelling coming from behind a door in the room they were in. Three people burst through the door, a king, a queen, and… Patton.

"Mom, Dad, you don't understand! He's crazy! Do you not see what he's been doing?!" Patton yelled at the royals, who seemed to be… his parents?

"Your brother is not crazy, and I'm beginning to think that you might be the crazy one for saying all these things!" The queen yelled back.

"I'm not lying, I'm not!" Patton's voice held an astounding amount of emotion. "He's planning on doing a dangerous spell, he wants to kill me!"

"He is not!" The king responded. "The only reason he's been learning magic is so he can advance his combat skills!"

"He's always been jealous of me, of my powers, you have to believe me!" Tears were welling up in Patton's eyes in the flash back, as well as in the present. They continued arguing, until a loud sound was heard from the floor below. Muffled conversation could be heard, until stopping abruptly when they heard the sound of something hitting the floor. A familiar person crashed up into the room, floating about a foot above the floor.

Ethan had his signature wicked smile across his face, surrounded by a neon yellow aura. Without hesitation, he fired a beam of neon yellow light directly at Patton, who instinctively fired his own magic back. Upon meeting, the two different types of magic created an explosion of light. When the light faded, Ethan dropped to the ground, landing skillfully on his feet. He was staring at something, his expression one of pure terror. When Patton looked in that direction, he saw their parents lying on the ground, completely still. He gasped, and immediately rushed to their side.

"You…" Ethan growled, a fire in his eyes. "You killed them!"

"No I didn't!" Patton looked at him, the tears flowing down his cheeks. "This is all your fault!"

Ethan held out his hand, and Patton was surrounded by a yellow aura. He was lifted into the air. Ethan opened a window, and brought him towards it. Patton was floating above the ground, when suddenly he started falling. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes hesitantly, and found himself suspended inches above the ground. He was dropped then, but he wasn't hurt. He stood up and dusted himself off. Ethan floated down, landing on his feet.

"Leave. Right now, leave. And never come back." His tone was serious. Patton just started running. He didn't want to stick around to see what happened next.

Then they were back on the beach, and Patton was crying.

"He banished me. He erased me from everyone's memory." He explained, not looking at Logan.

"So this means… that you're…" Logan's eyes widened. Patton nodded.

"I'm Ethan's brother. Please, please, please don't hate me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you did."

"I could never hate you. I could never even imagine it, not that I'd want to anyway. Patton, you are…" Logan trailed off. "You are the most amazing person I've ever met." Immediately, Patton handed Logan the pocket watch he'd been messing with. Logan just stared at it. "You're… giving me this?"

"Just open it…" Patton still wouldn't look at him. He opened the watch, and a folded piece of paper fell out. He unfolded it and began reading what it said.

'If I'm giving you this, that means I'm in love with you. I really hope that you feel the same way about me, otherwise this is really stupid. No one's really ever loved me, so I don't know what to expect… But all I know is that I'm not good enough for you. You're smarter than me, and I know that. You deserve someone who understands every single long word you say. Someone who will know how to respond when you ask a complicated question. And that's something I know I can't do. But if by some chance, you love me too, I hope we can work something out. ~Patton'

"I love you too, Patton." Logan told him, placing a hand on his cheek and gently turning his head a little so that he'd look at him. "And I didn't want to admit it to myself, because the last time I loved someone… well, you saw. But I do love you. And I want you to know that."

He leaned in slowly, giving Patton time to take back what he'd said in the letter, giving him time to say that he didn't love him anymore. But that didn't happen. Instead, Patton began leaning in as well. Their faces were less than an inch apart at this point. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, their lips met in a soft kiss. Patton felt like there were fireworks going off in his heart. He held Logan's hand, squeezing it lightly. Neither of them wanted the moment to end, but they both needed air eventually. When they finally did break apart, Patton leaned his forehead against Logan's, both of their eyes still closed. The inventor was smiling widely, feeling the happiest he'd ever felt. They ended up staying on the beach until the sun rose. All in all, it had been a great day for everyone.

Taglist: @musikasworld @icequeenoriginal @i-am-the-queen-you-idiot @romanknite @idkwhyimhere0o0

[abrianqlb9-blog]

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As an example, maybe you really feel warm, cool, tingly, or numb? Maybe your muscles are strained? Exactly how huge a location is included? Notification if the feelings alter as you concentrate on them. "My mouth feels completely dry. There is a numbness in my lips. When I swallow, I can think of the feeling of utilizing." Define to on overcoming addictive behaviour how the sensations change, exactly how the urge reoccurs.

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The objective of this workout, however, is not to make the impulse vanish yet to experience it in a brand-new method. If you routinely exercise desire browsing, you'll end up being extra aware of your desires and also find it easier to ride them out up until they vanish naturally. You can support your medicine treatment and protect yourself from relapse by having activities and also passions that offer suggesting to your life.

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Take a breathtaking hike, fish or outdoor camping, or appreciate routine walks in a park. Go to a gallery, go to a concert or a play, take an art course or write a narrative. Replace your addiction with drug-free groups and also tasks. Volunteer, end up being energetic in your church or confidence neighborhood, or sign up with a local club or community group.

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Therefore, admit your transgressions to one another as well as pray for each other, to make sure that you may be recovered. The efficient prayer of a righteous male can complete much. James 5:16< class=" title-block title-widget" > 6 Steps Text COMPLIMENTARY electronic book: You can Recover from Porn Betrayal! Could Covenant Eyes assist you? Find outPrior to we continue, it may be handy to stop and evaluate: are you addicted? The Sexual Addiction Evaluating Test (SAST) is a great location to start.

[sunaddicted]

Modern Valar

Manwë: his shop is full of birds, they sing him songs that have stayed the same throughout the ages as they show off their plumage for him; they mourn when they're bought, no matter how loving their new owners - nobody will ever fill the hole of his absence. Nobody will ever sing with them as beautifully as he did.

Melkor: peace is a foreign concept - with himself or with the world, it always eludes him. He's too different and too brash to put into words his difference without dissonance. But if the one he adores managed to understand, why nobody else ever did? His vision makes him lonelier than he would like to admit.

Ulmo: he dons on his wet suit and the waters become his empire; he slips amidst them like he would in a lover's arms, heart wrenching at the knowledge that he will have to abandon them again once the oxygen in his tank runs out. He's filled with wonder when he discovers and untouched nook, he's brimming with boiling rage when he witnesses the charred mark of humanity's poisonous presence - tears and laughter are shed for his reigns.

Aulë: without his hands, he would be nothing - his head would explode with too many ideas, the craving to create impossible to ignore. They are brown with clay, kaleidoscopic with paints, dry with chalk - just as rough as his wife's, their hands bear testament to the way they are anchored to the earth.

Oromë: the horses shiver as he walks past them, all of their muscles tremble faintly in a subtle attempt at warming up, their breath speeds up: every cell in their bodies quivers with a rush of adrenaline, hoping that he will answer their call and take them out on a hunt. He soothes them with a caress, calloused digits tender on their manes as they are on his weapons - he would never find creatures so attuned to his nature as these horses are.

Mandos: the dead tell stories that only his unseeing eyes can listen to. He gently arranges their bodies in their caskets, feathers his fingertips along their faces to learn them as he makes them comfortable for their last journey; he tucks talismans close to their bodies, benedictions to make easier the passage through the halls of death - a coin, a pebble, a dried flower. Maybe they will remember him, the day he follows into their steps - maybe his eyes will see that sea of faces he can only imagine.

Irmo: it's hard to remember there's something beyond the gardens he hasn't left in a long time, bound to his home by the spectres left behind by his endless sleep. Only his wife seems real, her fingers soothingly carding through his hair whisper sweet dreams in his ears. He's so tired: he doesn't shy away from those encouragements.

Tulkas: there's harmony in fighting that not everyone can see - he does: he has dedicated his life to grappling with others, skin slippery with sweat, ribcage heaving with effort. There's a respect in his opponents that anyone rarely has ever experienced outside the sacredness of the squared circle.

Varda: the stars might not shine for her but she knows them more intimately than anyone else, her gaze never straying from the night sky. She counts them and she loses count every time - it's a fruitless endeavour: by the time their light reaches her eye, they're already dead. It doesn't mean she will stop trying.

Yavanna: life blossoms under her hands. She doesn't know whether it's a gift or a curse - she's sure that it's not anything as banal as a green thumb, though. Nature loves her, responds to her touch. One day, it will swallow her whole in a canopy of jasmine.

Nienna: the world is too ugly, that's the only thing she knows. It fills her with a sadness she can't control, that saps every drop of energy from her limbs until she can only find the strength to weep - it's not as healing as people make it sound.

Estë: sometimes she wonders whether she's hurting her husband more than she's helping him: his rest torments her with doubts - it's a ceaseless plaguing of her mind with sorrowful thoughts. Is she truly a healer or a dispenser of palliative remedies?

Vairë: stories are the only thing that matter - without stories, humanity would be lost in the dark: nobody would know where they come from and where are they going; nothing would have a beginning and an end; everything would be confused, the threads impossible to unravel. She weaves them amidst the fibres of her works, hoping that it strengthens them. The preservation of history is her calling.

Vána: she breezes through a cruel world that it's far too kind to her - that responds to her smile and to her beauty. It's her due, she has spent her whole life thinking so: she doesn't know she's privilege reincarnated. She doesn't sense her temples stand on a sandy ground, ready to crumble as soon as the favour of the world changes.

Nessa: words don't come easy to her: they choke amidst her vocal chords, they tangle with her tongue, they get lost in the depths of her mind - too fleeting to grasp. She dances, instead. She speaks the only way she knows how, her body is the only instrument she can command.

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week Day 5: Hope/ Despair/Complicated/Easy

Summary: Sitting in his bed, Laxus beside him, Freed's mind starts to wonder. He thinks back to the first time he met the man he would fall in love with, and the hope that came with that meeting. A complicated type of hope, but hope none the less.

This is my fifth admission for Fraxus Week event for twenty-nineteen hosted by the tumbler user @fuckyeahfraxus. This one is a little bit angsty, and an exploration of a character's backstory. It's based off the prompt 'Hope/Despair/Complicated/Easy.'

You can read it on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. I hope you all enjoy it!

Day 5: A Complicated Type of Hope

Freed slowly, carefully placed the novel he had finished reading down on his bedside table. He reached for the lamp beside him, flicking it off and slowly letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness of the room. He removed the small band that was keeping his hair tied up, yawning slightly as he looked towards the man who was sleeping soundly next to him.

Laxus had been asleep for about an hour, his back facing the ceiling and a large pillow wrapped up in his arms. The bed covers were only halfway up his torso, something Freed carefully remedied so his husband wouldn't wake up cold in the middle of the night. The sensation of the fabric running against his skin must have been recognised by the sleeping man, as he shuffled slightly, let out a small sound with no distinguishable meaning to it, and nuzzled his face further into the pillow before settling again.

It was a cute sight, to say the least.

As he looked over his sleeping husband through the darkness, Freed thought back to the book he had been reading. It was called 'Hope' and told the fictional story of someone living a hellish life and their slow accent to happiness. It somewhat made Freed think back to his life before Fairy Tail, and how Laxus had become something of a beacon of hope to him.

The memories made him smile as he slowly readjusted himself so that he could lie beside his husband, yawning again.

-~~~-

The first time Freed had seen Fairy Tail, he had been fifteen years old.

It was in the second month of him being enrolled in the Rune Army's cadet scheme. The program was advertised as a way to teach young men responsibility as well as setting them up for a successful career in the Rune Army, allowing them to begin active duty the day they turned eighteen. Even in the short time Freed had been involved, he realised that the program was a thinly veiled way that the army could get their grunt-work done for free while pretending that they were teaching their recruits discipline.

Freed hadn't had any say in joining the program. It seemed that the moment his parents realised he had magic that would be appealing to the army, he was being told to pack his bags so that he could be shipped to the army base where he would live. He had no doubts as to why his parents wanted him there; he was an inconvenience to them, and this allowed them to be rid of him in a way that was socially acceptable

He wasn't angry at them. He'd long since been aware of his parents' feelings about him.

Even after spending only two months as a cadet, Freed had decided that he would leave the moment he could. Until then, he knew he had to go along with whatever the power-mad generals wanted without much objection. Despite their ages, if the cadets were seen to be disobedient, they were punished in the same way real troops were. Physical labour that, for their age, was dangerously strenuous.

"In line, now!" Was yelled to the cadets, who all straightened themselves and stood to attention.

The general who had addressed them was known only as Takin. Though Freed didn't know for sure, he had assumed that their leader was resentful of being in charge of cadets rather than official troops and thought it useful to take out his anger on the teenagers who he was in charge of. He was relentless, thoughtless, and saw respect and fear as interchangeable.

Looking impassive, Takin walked through the four rows of young cadets. There was twenty of them altogether, all standing to attention in uniform, wearing buzzcut hair styles and stoic expressions. None of them wanted to stand out, as getting attention from their general was not a good thing.

They weren't in their barracks as they normally would be. In an attempt to make the cadet scheme look more legitimate to the public, they would often be involved public celebrations or parades. Takin had stated that they would take twenty of the most respectable – which meant most obedient – cadets to the Magnolia harvest festival. They were to be part of the carnival procession, simply marching in line as they did every day, and as a reward of some kind they would be given a short amount of time to roam free throughout the city before they returned.

The whole thing was a publicity stunt, but Freed was craving any sense of freedom so wouldn't complain.

"You will walk in time," Takin demanded. "You will not speak. If you see your families, you will not address or look at them. You represent me and if I end up looking bad because of you, you will be reprimanded the minute we return to the barracks. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" A chorus of well rehearsed yells followed his questions.

Takin continued his pep talk, as he called them, for a few more minutes. As Freed's eyes were set straight forward on his commander, he couldn't see if anyone had taken issue with the way the young men were being treated. Although Freed considered himself old enough and mature enough to take the verbal onslaught, he knew that some of the assembled teenagers couldn't deal with the constant abuse from their leader.

It wasn't long after the supposed pep talk that the carnival had begun. Freed hadn't gotten a good gage as to where in the possession they were, but he had figured out that the float in front of their designated space had someone dressed up as a turkey that danced. The juxtaposition of the that compared to the regimented group of teenagers was almost funny.

Freed didn't laugh, though.

Doing so would make him stand out which would lead to reprimanding.

When they made their way to the main part of Magnolia, walking in complete unison with their boot slamming against the cobbles simultaneously, they were presented with people cheering and laughing and applauding. The sun was warm and almost comforting, and if he were allowed to then Freed may have smiled.

They continued to walk, and that was when he saw the guildhall. Illuminated by the rising morning sun, a large and grand looking building appeared ahead of them. The insignia of the Fairy Tail guild was presented at the forefront of the building, so it didn't take the rune mage long to realise what exactly it was.

From what he'd been told about guilds, both from his parents and from the generals in charge of him, guilds were something of a necessary evil. His parents had shown them as vigilantes who were getting in the way of 'real' law officials who should be stopped, and the army had portrayed them as lower rungs on the ladder of authority. The image these stories had led him to believe they were full of miscreates and undesirable people; nothing more than troublemakers who needed to stop interfering with things that didn't concern them.

But as he glanced towards the group assembled before the guild – only for a second as not to be seen – he saw a group of happy people. Children and adults alike smiling, a heavy mixture of all people. Not anything like he had been told.

As he continued, he saw people were carrying small flags that contained the Fairy Tail logo. They weren't seen as troublemakers by the people living here, they were almost celebrated. It seemed as though Freed had been mislead about what place in society Wizard Guild's held; it wasn't surprising, given who he had got this information from.

He couldn't dwell on it for too long, however, as the further away he got from the guildhall the less traces of their influence could be seen. He put his focus back onto marching and walked the rest of the way through the carnival route; all the while ignoring the pain, he felt in his feet because of the ill-fitting boots.

"Right," Takin began as they assembled at the end of the route. "You have two hours. Be here on time, and remember you still represent me. Behave, and if I hear you disrespect me then you'll be on latrine duty."

It said something about Takin that, when hearing this threat, Freed wondered why he was being lenient.

After being dismissed, most members of the troop began to walk towards their families who had come to watch them. Obviously not having anyone to talk to, Freed had decided to look around the unfamiliar town. He had accrued a small amount of money from doing extra work around the barracks, so could perhaps afford something. Shining Takin's shoes for a week was particularly humiliating, but hopefully worth it.

He walked past all the meaningless things without a word; why waste money on candy-apples and shoddily made stalls when he could do something more permanent. He didn't know when the next time he would be let out like this would be, so he was intending to make the most of his money while he had the chance.

It was when he saw a bookshop that he realised the best use of his money. It was small and perhaps a little dingy, but it was open and that was all Freed required. He walked in without thinking.

Browsing through the unorganised selection of books in silence, only vaguely aware of the old man who owned the shop watching him, Freed tried to find something that interested him. When he had lived in his parent's manor, he had always preferred reading something factual. But now, presented with a reality that he had little control over, he found himself craving some escapism. He ended up finding this in a dusty corner, with a leather-bound book containing a blurb that explained the fantasy elements of the story. When he took it to the shopkeeper, he was forced to spend basically all the money he had gotten; not as much as he thought, apparently.

As he took the book from the man, he felt a small fizzing on the back of his hand. He winced slightly as a thought was pushed into his head, something which should have become familiar now but hadn't. This was how the army gave instructions, with a rune on the back of his hand that took the words of his commander and imprinted them in his mind.

Their time alone had been shortened to an hour. He would have to leave soon to get back in time.

Fantastic.

He thanked the shopkeeper and left immediately, turning towards the dark and wet alleyway he had walked through to get to the bookstore. He held the book as he walked, glancing up to see another person enter the alleyway from the other side. He shifted slightly to the side to not fully take the confined space and continued walking.

It was the cadet's expectation that, just like he had, the man on the other side of the alley would shift slightly so they could walk past each other without issue. This turned out to be untrue, as the older man shoved their shoulders against each other roughly as he passed.

"Fuckin' watch where you're going," He even had the arrogance to say.

Freed felt his chest tighten slightly in perhaps anger. He admitted it was a small thing, but it felt as though he was reaching the final straw. He already had to deal with dismissive parents, a borderline abusive general who was in control of him, and a lack of any freedom. And now he was expected to deal with an asshole blaming him for something that wasn't his fault.

No. No way in hell.

He spun on his heel to see the retreating figure of the man. He was taller than Freed, with unkept blonde hair and a body that was relatively muscular. When he had been approaching him, Freed had seen the other man had a scar covering his eye and was probably older than the rune mage by a few years.

"Hey," He shouted slightly, knowing his voice was carried loud enough for the other man to hear.

The blonde ignored him completely, and Freed snapped. It was all too much, and being ignored while still feeling that stupid, invasive fuzzing from the rune on his hand had driven him to a point where it felt all his senses were overloading. It was all too much.

"I am talking to you!" He yelled, but something was different.

His voice was different, mutated into an otherworldly snarl. It hadn't been his intention to sound like that, and he felt as though it could have only happened with some kind of magical interference. He chose to ignore this, stalking forward towards the other man, who seemed to have definitely heard him this time, as he turned.

"The hell do you want?" The blonde almost spat as he spoke, voice gravely and seemingly annoyed. "Thought you little army pricks were kept on a leash."

Freed didn't think through his actions. He dropped the book to the floor and slammed his fist into the taller mans jawline, sadistically loving the small crack he felt reverberate through his bones. Part of his mind imagined doing that to the people who had pushed him to this point of anger; to his parents and to his generals. To punch Takin, bring him to the floor and hurt him, was something Freed was craving.

The power fantasy went as fast as it came, and Freed saw that his punch had been more powerful than he had expected. The blonde's head had been slammed against the wall by the force of the punch and was rubbing his head in pain. Freed hadn't punched someone that hard before and looked down at his hands for any kind of explanation.

He was met with one. His right hand was not his own, but a monster's.

"Shit," He whispered, looking down at his hand with wide eyes. "No. Fuck, why are you doing this now."

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Freed had always known that he had some kind of connection to a demon of some kind, something he had tried to rid himself of many times. It had been nearly a year since he had undergone any kind of transformation, which he had accredited to the runes that he had written on himself. The demon was the reason he had learnt rune magic before, and it had been worthwhile to keep the creature hidden. But now it seemed that the emotional state he had been in had overthrown his writings and the demon was coming back again.

He was quick to act, knowing how to deal with it for a short time at least. He pulled out the dagger that was part of his uniform, placed the demonic hand on the wall and slammed the weapon down, impaling himself with it though not feeling a thing. He knew that the demo would retreat if put through enough pain.

As he did this, he was unaware of the blonde looking at him with wide eyes.

The rune mage watched as the demonic claw slowly reverted back into his normal hand, melting the blade as it did and ruining the sleeve of his uniform. He couldn't explain to Takin what had happened, so would have to lie about what had happened. He would be reprimanded without a doubt the moment he returned, and the rune mage felt a sickness grow in his stomach as he came to terms with this fact.

"The fuck was that?" The blonde demanded, and Freed snapped his head towards him.

"Nothing," He said with rigidity, and went to walk away. A hand landed on his shoulder and turned him around.

"Nothing?" The blonde quoted with an incredulous tone. "You just fucking stabbed yourself and you called it nothing?"

"That wasn't part of me," Freed insisted, voice harsh as he shook the stranger's hand off him. "I have to go."

Again, he went to walk down the alley again, but heard footsteps jogging to keep up with him. When he was turned around for the second time, he saw that the blonde had picked up the book that he had dropped when dealing with the claw he had grown. He snatched the book from the blonde's hands immediately and went to walk away, but the blonde was grabbing his arm and not allowing him to leave. He tried to shrug the man off but the grip simply got tighter and his chances of leaving on his own terms lessened slightly.

"What did you mean by it wasn't part of you?" The blonde demanded. "It looks like take-over magic or something? Pretty fucking powerful too," He rubbed his jaw to highlight his claim.

"It isn't magic. It's a curse," Freed spoke adamantly.

"Who the fuck told you that?" The blonde laughed a little at the idea, and Freed bristled. "Because whoever it was, they were bullshitting you. You weren't being taken over by some random monster or anything. You swung that punch, you wanted to do it. Not some demon. Just a spell or something"

Freed didn't say anything immediately. This wasn't an opinion he had heard before. Everyone who had seen this demonic side of him had called it a curse. This included his parents and the doctors that had been taken to the household when Freed had been there.

"That isn't my magic," Freed denied. "I am well versed in enchantments and runes. Not demons."

The blonde seemed to ignore him. "Why the hell are you part of the fucking army with a takeover spell like that? You can't wanna be some faceless foot soldier, right?"

"I wasn't exactly involved in the decision," Freed muttered harshly, mainly speaking to himself.

"Then fucking leave," The blonde spoke as if it were obvious. "If you don't wanna be there and they're not gonna let you use any of your actual magic, what's the point in being there. The guild's always taking in runaways and fuckups, half the people there are orphans or whatever. That ain't gonna stop anytime soon, but if you joined at least you'll be a runaway with a bit of power inside of you."

Not knowing what to say to the invitation – if it could even be called that – Freed made a final effort to shrug himself free of the mans grasp. He succeeded this time and started to walk away for the final time; he knew that the time he had to get back to Takin was slipping away from him. This time, the blonde didn't follow him.

"Hey," The blonde shouted again. "If you join the guild, I want you on my team. Name's Laxus."

Freed paused for a moment. Laxus. What he was offering was something that Freed had never had. He thought back to the faces of the guildmembers he had marched past and almost yearned for it. They were all individual, happy, and seemed to be acting as a family despite having no relation. And a stranger was offering him that based on a power that he hated.

After a moment, he looked over and spoke. "Freed."

That was all he said before he continued walking.

-~~~-

The memory of his first meeting with the man who was to be his husband made Freed laugh. Some people had a story that was grand and romantic that would make anyone who listened to cry; the two of them had a confrontation with each other in an alleyway wherein Freed had punched Laxus with a magic he refused to admit was his own.

Although it had been a chance meeting, Freed felt it to be one of the most important moments in his life. Not only had he met his husband that day, but he had also been given the first taste of independence in his life. It had been a turning point, and the offer of joining a guild had been something that hadn't left his mind since the moment it entered. It had given him hope that he wasn't destined to follow the demands of other people; be it a general of his cadets troop or his parents.

In many ways, he owed that to Laxus. He owed his hope to Laxus.

The decision to leave the cadets when he was sixteen had been hard. It wasn't as if he could leave without difficulty. His previous obedience meant the generals had been careful not to give him any hope of another life, and he knew that his parents would rather have him there than at home, so returning to the manor wasn't an option. He would have never seriously considered leaving if it hadn't been for Laxus, most likely, as the blonde had offered him some kind of security.

And although his time in Fairy Tail hadn't gone exactly as he had planned – Laxus having become more involved in his own plans by the time had managed to escape from the cadets – Freed did find something of a real family in the guildhall. This was only possible because of his husband, he had concluded.

He had asked some point later in their relationship why Laxus had offered him a place in the guild. Apparently, it had bene over a year since Laxus had been hit in any capacity, and he was impressed by the ease in which Freed had managed it.

It was funny to think that the man who had calculated people's worth by their usefulness had become the same man drooling into his pillow beside him.

Freed's life had never been particularly logical. His formative years had been governed by guardians who were equally dismissive of him as well as being overbearing. And then Laxus had entered his life, acting as a figurehead for individuality and being himself. No more controlling figures dominating his life, simply being in control of his own destiny. Laxus offered him a sense of hope that his life had lacked up until that point; a complicated kind of hope that made Freed become the man who would eventually run the Raijinshuu and marry Laxus Dreyar.

"Night Laxus," He whispered, pressing his lips against Laxus' head.

The blonde let out a small groan. "Night Freed."

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Forgotten Alliance Ch. 6

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Eventual Elijah Mikaelson x OC with other parings mentioned throughout.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Canon Typical things

Author’s Note: As a reminder, FA can be found on ffnet up to chapter 42. I am uploading chapters here on tumblr for convenience. I decided against tagging this until new chapters are posted. Of course there are a few that wished to be tagged and I will be tagging them in this. If you would like to be tagged please let me know! Chapters are queued and will be posted randomly.  Enjoy

After Elijah had gone off to his room for the night, Elizabeth had stayed on the balcony for some time after. She was wide awake and wasn't sure when sleep would actually hit her. She had so much on her mind and it was the root of her restlessness. She had watched the sky deepen in black and with her supernatural sight, the stars were something she continuously stared at as she stayed there on the balcony despite the lights from the city. She found it so easily to get lost in her thoughts recently. Mostly because she was so close to getting what was stolen from her back. She just didn't know how to ask Davina for the help she needed.

Elizabeth had known nothing of the events earlier between Elijah, Freya and Davina. She had been distracted by Malakai continuously making her laugh after she had somewhat gotten over the fact that Kol was back from the dead. Her best friend had made it so easy to forget the world around her. He was still learning the ways of the world but had been enjoying it every minute. Elizabeth already missed Malakai. Since he had woken up, he hadn't been that far from her. And now that he had agreed to go with Klaus to make sure they had gotten to their destination safely, Elizabeth felt a bit lonely.

Around two in the morning, Elizabeth left the balcony and went to the kitchen. Knowing her mind would continue to be restless, Elizabeth thought tea would be the perfect remedy to calm her chaotic thoughts. She hadn't been in the kitchen long when she heard footsteps enter the kitchen.

"Couldn't sleep?" Elizabeth heard Elijah's voice as she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove to heat.

"Not a wink." She replied going and taking a seat at the small table across from where he had taken a seat. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"Of course not. " He said with a shake of his head. There was still a hint of sadness in his voice and Elizabeth knew it was from the events from hours before. She wanted to say something. Anything that could help him feel better, but she couldnt find the words. She had used to be able to say the right things and in that moment she wished for that spell to have never exist. But what she could do was explain. She could finally say what she had been holding back for some time.

"Elijah," Elizabeth said at the exact moment Elijah had said her name. It caused them both to chuckle slightly. "Please, " She said. "You first."

"Alright, then." He said with a small smile before it faded. "I've been meaning to ask. What happened after my family had ran from your village?" Elizabeth was slightly relieved that he hadn't asked about Aya and the spell. But she supposed this would lead it into it. She was prepared this time.

"It didn’t seem like it had been long after that you had fed me your blood, that he came to the village." She said thinking back to that night. It had been after Elijah had started to visit her from time to time. Her husband hated Elijah and every time he had saw Elijah speaking to Elizabeth for even a second, he'd take it out on Elizabeth that night. One night he had taken it to far and almost killed Elizabeth. If Elijah hadn't sensed something was wrong, Elizabeth would have died at the hands of her husband. Elijah had killed him and fed Elizabeth his blood. "I remember Rebekah coming into the hut and telling you that he was almost there and that you two needed to leave. And I understood that that may be the last time I would see you both. And I accepted it. "

The kettle began to whistle and Elizabeth got up and turned off the stove. She poured herself and Elijah a cup of hot water. She carried them to the table along with a few bags of tea and placed them on the table. Elijah had smiled at her and took his cup and selected a tea. He patiently waited for Elizabeth to continue.

"Everyone in the village didn't know what was coming to them. I had barely made it outside when I seen him tearing apart a hut." She sighed slightly. "That man had fire in his eyes. I have never seen someone so hell bent on killing his children. I thought he would just tear the village to pieces and leave the villagers alone, but he didn't. By the time he reached me, he could smell both yours and Rebekah's scent inside. I welcomed him in and he had seen the body on the floor and looked at me with anger and that fire in his eyes. He had asked me where you had run off to but I gave him no answer. I had refused to do so. Mikael was not happy at all about my decision. The last thing I remember was him throwing me across the room and hitting my head pretty hard." Elizabeth watched as Elijah looked away shaking his head.

"I woke up some time later wondering how it was that I was alive." She took a sip of her tea. "I was the only survivor. And I remember there being a thirst and the blood from those that were already dead had called to me. It smelled so inviting and I couldnt stop myself."

"How did you manage to get a daylight ring?"Elijah asked and watched the smile grow on Elizabeth's lips.

"Rebekah had sent a witch to find me. How she managed, that I have no clue. But she's Rebekah." Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "But the witch had helped me. It took a few times with her using magic on me not to want to eat her, but it helped. I was able to control myself. From there I managed to make it in another village for a few years before moving on."

"What did you do with Malakai all those years?"

"I kept him in a crypt. Safest place to put him was somewhere no one really bothers the dead. I went back to check on him every few weeks. I had to make sure that he was still alive. As much as he could be anyways."

"How did you know about the doppelganger blood being the only way to save him?"

"The witch we went to, Silvia. She had known of Ester's spell. I think every witch knew about it. But Silvia had told me there would be a few chances to get the blood we needed." She smiled at him. "I have seen you a few times throughout the years. Lord Elijah." He laughed and shook his head.

"All apart of the plan to stay hidden from Mikael." He said with a nod.

"I know. From all the close encounters that we've had over the years, It was great to see you. It was even good to see you had became smitten over Katerina."

"You had been around for a while then." It hadn't been a question but Elizabeth felt the need to answer it.

"I needed her blood Elijah. I had hoped that Niklaus would break the curse so I could wake Malakai. But we know how that played out." Elijah nodded.

"And when you ran into Aya?" He asked. "If the story continues, you must have met Aya sometime after that."

Elizabeth nodded. "Before I start that story, during the time Niklaus and I had been after Katerina, did you feel like I was close by?"

"There was something that told me you were close by. A type of pull that I couldnt seem to shake. Though every time I had in fact tried to follow that pull, It'd would lead me to another village or another town."

"When did it stop?" She asked curiously. "When was it that you actually knew my presence was gone?"

The question had actually stumped Elijah. He couldnt remember when he stopped knowing that Elizabeth was okay. The last time he had felt any kind of reassurance that Elizabeth was okay, had been right before Klaus had daggered him for the second time. "After I had the dagger removed the second time." Elijah said with a slight nod.

Elizabeth nodded in return. It made sense now. He had been in a box when Aya had done the spell. "I only ask because it will make a lot of sense once I tell you the story." Elizabeth drank the rest of her tea before she started.

"I had heard the Strix had we having this party. And all of those that were from your sire line were invited. I was a curious one and wanted to see what it was that you had created, even though you were no longer apart of it. While welcoming at first, I saw no threat to the others that had belonged to your line. They had a witch shake the hands of all the guests that attended. When she shook mine, her eyes had widened and I had asked what it was that she had seen. But she refused to say anything." She took a deep breath.

"Later on, Aya had her witches attack me. I'd rather have my neck snapped several hundred times than go through that pain again." She shook her head trying to get the memories of it all out of her head, but they were permanently there. Elizabeth could see Elijah holding back his anger. But there would be no one to take his anger out on even if he did. Aya and those witches had been dead. "I woke up bound in the middle of a circle that they had created. Aya had came into the room, with a devilish grin that I could never forget. And I remember the words she had said clearly. 'You must be the young one he turned. That happiness you feel wont be there once they are done with this spell.' I was so confused as to what she meant. I didn't get a chance to question her, because the witches had started the spell."

Elizabeth paused for a moment. She ran her finger over the rim of the cup, trying not to lose her composure. Tears had started to form. "During the spell, I felt like something had been ripped away from me. And after the spell I had felt empty. There was something missing. I found out what Aya had meant after the spell. "I couldnt feel you anymore. I couldnt feel that you were safe. It had felt like I lost any sense to you." Elizabeth had looked at Elijah. He had a concerned and slightly confused look on his face. "The reason you had easily forgotten of my existence after you had the dagger removed was because of the spell. Aya took away the bond between us that isn't uncommon, but a true rarity to be able to find them."

Elijah had realized what it was that Elizabeth had been talking about. It had made sense to him now. It made sense as to why when Elizabeth was human, he had been able to know when she was in trouble and when she was lying to him. He hadn't been able to sense that since her arrival in New Orleans. He had in fact known when Elizabeth was safe, but he had lost that once he had been daggered. Guilt had filled him along with anger. He should have known something was wrong. He should have known something had felt different, but at that time, he had thought that it had been from being daggered. But it wasn't what it was.

"Why did she do it?" He asked as calmly as he could.

"To hurt you for leaving her when Mikael had come." Elizabeth said shaking her head slightly. "One of those, if she couldn't have you then your mate couldn't." She sightly. "It shouldn't change anything, me telling you this story." She said watching Elijah carefully.

"How would that change anything between us?" He asked softly. He knew the answer though he had to ask just to be sure.

"You loved her. " She said with a sigh. "And even though she left, I don't expect for me to undo this spell and for everything to be the way things should have been. I want you happy, Elijah. "

Elijah sighed and nodded at her words. She had said the very thing that he had been thinking. But the thoughts that were now coursing through his head were guilt. He some how should have known something was different. He wanted to fix things like he always done. And then he remembered that earlier yesterday Davina had came to the compound with the spell.

"She found the spell." He said softly.

"What?" Elizabeth asked shaking her head slightly. "I didn't ask her to find it yet."

"Freya and I did. I wanted what was taken from you to be given back. Even if I hadn't known what it was, I felt you deserved to have it back."

Elizabeth swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "And she found it?"

"From my understanding, she did. She even handed it to Freya before Niklaus had rudely kicked her out."

"But Freya wouldn't be able to do the spell..."

"Davina plans to speak with you about it. She seems on board with helping you get back what you lost."

Elizabeth sighed. "You'll get it back too. It wont just be me." She tried saying it as a whisper, but with them being vampires, it sounded louder than that.

"I know I will." Elijah said standing up. "You should get some rest. The sun is beginning to rise."

Elizabeth nodded and watched as Elijah walked out of the kitchen. There was some relief in Elizabeth. She had been able to get the one thing off of her chest that she had been holding on to five centuries. Standing, she collected the dishes and placed them in the sink before heading up to her room. Getting into her bed, she looked up at the ceiling hoping that sleep would actually take over. It took its sweet time doing so. But when she did, it only seemed like she closed her eyes for a moment before someone began knocking on her room door.

Forgotten Alliance Tag: @mschellehitt

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