#get you a man who can be put in a trance like paralyzed state if you manuvuer him the right way. like a rabbit or maybe even a shark.

[slabime]

Tonic Immobility.

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 13 - Kolgrimr’s Fury

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

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At some point his mother had stopped beating the drum and after a few minutes he returned from his trance state to reality. His gaze cleared up and he saw Gyda sitting right in front of him. She looked at him relaxed and with a satisfied expression on her face. He listened into himself and felt a previously unknown power within him, it was almost tangible. He smiled at her and nodded impressed. “It worked. I can feel it. Thank you, Mother.”

She briefly stretched out both arms, palms up and said, “What did you expect? It always helped your father up until that day and now it will help you.”

“Yes, indeed. It will help me to get my ...,” he broke off in the middle of the sentence and his face took on a look that was at first astonished, then annoyed. Quite automatically he had let his mind wander and realized that the Arendellians had disappeared from the camp. They had been warned!

“What have you done ...,” he gasped and pulled himself up. He stared at his mother.

“What is it, Kolgrimr? What did you see?”

“They are all gone! Fled because someone warned them! The ritual prevented me from noticing in time. I ...” He clenched his fists and looked at her fiercely, his lips trembled.

She gasped and clapped her hands in front of her mouth. Then she stood up and looked at him sadly, almost pleading. “Kolgrimr, please ... I didn't mean it. Who could have guessed it!”

For seconds they just stood facing them and stared at each other. Then he seemed to have made a decision. One could clearly see it working in his head. “Well, let's do it the other way. It will take longer and have consequences for someone, but I have no choice now. You can prepare yourself for big changes, Mother.”

He angrily grabbed his things and stormed out of the hut. His mother stood there helpless and with her mouth open, staring at the spot where he had just slammed the kota's lid behind him.

~~~

He was furious and roared as he walked through the camp, holding his deadly modified battlestick in front of him. He simply pushed the nearest Northuldra out of the way and moved towards the camp centre.

Many more men and women were already gathering there, startled by Kolgrimr's cries of rage and warning shouts echoing through the camp. Everyone stood there waiting and nervous with their birch wood sticks in their hands and those who didn't have one hurried as fast as they could to their kotas and took it.

Yelana ran up gesticulating and tried to calm her people down. “Stand back! Stay calm, folks.”

Then Kolgrimr stepped onto the small clearing, his burning gaze directed at the leader. The people groaned when they saw him for the first time. So this was Gyda's son and some of the elders here had a deja vu moment as they remembered his father's appearance. Wrapped in his almost black fur coat, he wore a hood with reindeer antlers on his head, and his huge-looking figure loomed threateningly before them.

He pointed angrily at Yelana. “You! You drew everyone's attention and warned them about me. Not only that; you have allowed this brood from Arendelle to enter into our land again and you have also have taken care of them, and treated them as if they were our own people. And then you just let them go!”

“Kolgrimr, calm down, you're making a big mess of things here. They have proved to us that they are our friends and they amended the mistakes of the past. They ...”

“Shut up!” he yelled at her and cut off her word. “They lulled you in, wrapped you around their finger and repeating to you what they did to our old leader. What they did must be avenged!”

“Kolgrimr ...,” she began, but was interrupted by him again.

“You are unworthy to rule us, an illegitimate leader of the People of the Sun and have simply usurped that position. You have betrayed our people and now you will be replaced! My mother will take her rightful position in your place and you will be banished for your deeds.”

Yelana gasped for breath and the mood of the Northuldra tipped behind her. One of the men rumbled, finally becoming enraged, ran angrily towards Kolgrimr with his battlestaff raised against him. But the latter only grinned, and then something began that hadn't happened for ages, a deadly serious battle of the Northuldra against one of their own.

~~~

Honeymaren was already halfway back to the camp when she heard excited voices from there. “What's wrong now?” she muttered and started to run.

Even before she passed the first kotas she heard the roar of an unknown person. She soon realized that this could be only one person. “Kolgrimr!” she exclaimed in horror and stopped so abruptly that she almost tripped over. Her heart began to accelerate and a deep fear seized her suddenly.

What am I going to do; she thought and crept forward carefully, far enough so that she now saw almost all of her people standing together in the clearing, with Yelana at the head. And then she saw Kolgrimr himself and her heart almost stopped at the sight of him.

She had to stand by her people now. Wasn't she the best Skalastet fighter among them? But that also meant that she might very soon find herself in a serious situation between life and death for the first time in her life. She was very afraid and just stood there like paralyzed for seconds. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly to calm down again. Then her decision was made and she crept unnoticed around the crowd and Kolgrimr, towards her kota. Once there she took out her battlestick and moved silently to the hut that was right behind Kolgrimr.

Arriving there, she ducked on the ground and peeked around the corner. A soft noise made her look to the side, startled and she recognized her brother, who moved one hut away towards her, with his battlestick in the crook of his arm. She put a finger in front of her lips. Ryder nodded and now also looked forward to the clearing. Then he looked at her questioningly and she waved him over. When he was with her he whispered, “You're not planning on attacking him from behind all by yourself, are you?”

“What else can I do, little brother, I must stand by them all. But you can be sure that I'm very scared too. This looks like a real fight and it may end badly.”

“Please be careful, sister, and don't do any of those jumping-up-the-tree-and-hit-up experiments like you did with me. We don't know how good he is with the stick.”

Honeymaren nodded and looked forward again carefully, every tendon in her tensed to breaking.

And then suddenly everything went haywire without any warning.

~~~

Yelana just yelled out loud, “Don't attack him ... stop!” and spread her arms wide to hold her people back, but it was already too late.

Kolgrimr levered up his attacker's battlestick and kicked him so hard against his chest with his foot that he sailed backwards in a high arc and then lay motionless.

Now there was no holding back anymore and many Northuldra stormed him all at once. The first three did not know what happened to them when their battlestaves were knocked from their hands with such force that they themselves were torn around and hurled to the ground. At the next man Kolgrimr cut the staff in half with the blade of his hunting tip in one mighty blow, and in the same movement he struck the other end of the staff with force against his neck. The Northuldra crashed to the ground like a felled tree.

The wave of the attack came to a halt and the Northuldra became more careful now. With eyes widened in fear they looked back and forth between the men lying on the ground and Kolgrimr. Only a few seconds had passed and already five of them were out of action, two of them unconscious and three rubbed their aching arms.

They slowly moved further apart and tried to encircle him now with sticks held out in front of them. Kolgrimr smiled and let his battlestick whirl before him, so that the blades of the hunting tips flashed in the light of the low-lying sun and created a trail of light in front of him. The men hesitated.

Honeymaren still waited. He was yet a bit too far away from her and her steps would surely reveal her in the attack. She hoped that the next attack would bring him closer to her. She slightly corrected her foot position and the grip on her staff. She was ready for the jump.

And indeed, Kolgrimr retreated slightly at the next attack. Two of the more experienced fighters exchanged fierce blows with Kolgrimr at the same time. But he had no problems at all to parry the strokes. With playful ease he casually hit them against arms, legs and scored body hits. He obviously played with them and was unnaturally fast. It was almost as if he knew exactly in advance where the two men were going to strike.

“Yet a little bit closer ...,” Honeymaren whispered to herself without a sound and gripped her staff tighter.

Now the third attacker joined in, a wirily built younger Northuldra woman. She let her battlestaff slowly spin in front of her, waiting for the ideal moment to attack as she moved in a semicircle closer to the fighters. Then the moment was there, she jumped into the gap and thrust with all her might. Kolgrimr made a leap backwards.

That was the moment Honeymaren had been waiting for and left her guard. One leap, another, and her toes barely touched the ground as she jumped up behind him with her battlestaff raised and delivered a precise, powerful blow to the only exposed spot. His carotid artery. She knew it wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly incapacitate him.

She also knew at this crucial moment that her stroke was perfectly executed and would find its target. Then the unthinkable happened. Only a fraction of a second before that, Kolgrimr crouched down in a flash, spun around and looked her straight in the eyes with a terrifying, mad grin, as her strike went nowhere and she went down uncontrolled. Immediately he was above her, put his foot on her chest and pressed his hunting tip against her neck. Honeymaren was stunned and let her staff roll out of her hand.

“You!” he rumbled over her and slightly increased the pressure with his battlestick. Honeymaren groaned and a thin blood thread ran from the light cut.

“Let go of my sister at once, you monster!”

Kolgrimr slowly turned around and saw Ryder standing behind him in attack position two steps away. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and said, “Interesting. I didn't see you coming.”

“How could you, I was standing right behind you, in your blind spot. Let her go now ... please. She was just trying to defend us. We haven't done anything to you!”

Kolgrimr pondered, looked down at Ryder's sister again and then raised his eyes to look into the faces of the surrounding ones who were frozen in their movement.

One of the men whispered in the ear of the equally shocked Yelana. “How can a man be so fast. It's supernatural.”

Yelana shook her head slightly and muttered just two words, “Berserker juice.” He looked after her uncomprehendingly as she took two steps towards Kolgrimr, threw her staff from her and spread her arms wide.

“Kolgrimr. Enough! Hear me ... I beg you. I will grant your request and go into exile willingly if you release Honeymaren. You don't want to kill one of our people, do you? You are one of us, and it is not us you hate.”

Kolgrimr's attitude relaxed a little and Honeymaren dared to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she hoped fervently that he would accept Yelana's offer.

“Why not right away so? That's I wanted to hear since the beginning. Drop all your staffs and step back,” he ordered in a loud voice, turned back to Ryder and said, “You too!” He made a nodding head movement towards the ground and fixed Ryder with a piercing look.

Ryder hesitated and gave Yelana a questioning look. She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally dropped his staff.

Kolgrimr took the spearhead from Honeymaren's neck and said to Yelana in a commanding tone, “Get your belongings and get out of here! Hurry up, go on!” Yelana gave him an angry look, picked up her staff again, took a quick step to her kota and disappeared into it.

Shortly after, she came out again, with a bag over her shoulder. She took one last look around and walked with measured steps towards lichen meadows. When she was out of sight Kolgrimr also took the foot from Honeymaren's chest and pulled her up by her collar. He stood behind her in a flash and suddenly she had his long knife at her throat.

The Northuldra groaned loudly and Ryder sank to his knees in desperation. “I have no intention of killing her,” Kolgrimr shouted to the Northuldra gathered around him. “But for now, I'll keep her as hostage, you hear? Don't get any stupid ideas or you will bitterly regret it!”

Then he lowered his head to her left ear grinning and whispered in low voice, “You won't die, dearie, not yet. You will help me to bring the Arendellian royalty back to me, specially your beloved snow queen.”

All her hope seemed lost now; she thought. She realized, that she was helplessly at his mercy now. She felt his hard grip pressing her against his chest and the deadly sharp knife at her throat. Tears began to flow down her cheeks and she trembled in fear.

When Kolgrimr finally started to move and to direct her into the woods she throwed to her brother a last glance. He still kneeled on the floor, staring at her desparately. Maybe this was the last goodbye.

Her lips silently formed her last words to him, “I love you, little brother.”

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Announcement : Tomorrow a little surprise is waiting for you, so don't forget to check my blog. By the way, I plan this also for the change to the future parts, always one day later than usual. Just now part two has started... At this point I would also like to thank all those readers who have liked my story so far without comments, but are still there and also my new blog followers. THANK YOU guys!

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Six: Training Day

AN: Happy Black History Month! What better way to start this month than updating a black fanfic, which reminds me to say go support other black fanfic writers on Tumblr. And do yourself a favor and read up on figures other than MLK Jr. and Rosa Parks.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.0k

Taglist: @azayamari​

Chapter Seven: Specialty

We were in the library, it was a huge room with an open interior, lined with walls of books and several nooks to sit and read in. Charles and Erik wanted to explore my empathic abilities further. I picked at the loose strand of my shirt remembering the disgust on my face about the plain attire I'm wearing. I lifted my head, my eyes meeting Erik's and we began to play a game, pointing out the ostentatious items in the room with our eyes. A bronze lion head. Awards from Charles' ancestors. Ridiculous looking portraits. An antique cigar box.

"Do you know the extent of your empathic abilities Claudia?" Charles asked curiously, sitting across from me in a sofa chair, ending our game.

I turned my attention to him, "No Charles, people do not volunteer to see the extent of my powers. Being able to manipulate emotions tends to unnerves people," I quipped, smiling.

"I'm surprised, I thought that's what you do regardless of how people feel," Erik stated, peering out the library window.

"Erik," I gasped mockingly, and put my hand on my chest as if I was offended. "Your lack of faith in me, wounds me," I finished jokingly.

Erik snickered before turning around and walking to where Charles and I were sitting, "What do you know that you can do?" he questioned, as he lowered himself into the chair next to Charles'.

"Sense, feel and understand emotions, feelings, hopes, dreams, desires, and fears of others," I listed simply, shrugging my shoulders. "I can create illusions also. So, as you can tell manipulation is my specialty," I answered, spreading my hands out in front of me.

"Do you mind if you show me?" Charles asked curiously.

"You're joking right?" I chuckled in disbelief, arching my brow at him. "When I get inside people's head like that, the illusion can seem so...vivid," I warned, sitting comfortably in my seat.

"I can take it," Charles assured, adjusting himself in his seat.

"Well, it's your funeral, Charles," I joked, as I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax and shortly after he does the same.

I reopened my eyes and looked at Charles, as soon as his grip tightens on the armrest I knew the illusion was in full effect. I watched my illusion through Charles' mind. He had to blink a couple of times before realizing that his sister, Raven, was lying deadly still on the floor. A puddle of wine red blood was forming around her and all he could do was stare. He could even smell the metallic stench of her blood as the life left her body. He tried yelling, moving, even using his mind to call out to her, but it didn't work.

"Charles," I called, trying to rouse him from my illusion. "Are you alright?"

"Charles," Erik called, and firmly put his hand on Charles' shoulder which seemed to break him of the trance.

"Pardon me?" he asked confused as he shook off his daze, realizing he was back in his seat.

"Claudia was asking how do you feel?" Erik repeated what I had just asked.

I was intently staring at Charles to see if he was paralyzed in shock or fear. Or maybe both.

"Oh...well that was quite the...skill. It's both incredible and terrifying that the images were so-" Charles began.

"Real? Vivid? Seems impossible to have been fake," I offered softly.

Charles met my eyes and nodded softly as I began to pick apart his emotions. He had never felt so vulnerable and useless until my illusion and he hoped he never had to feel that again.

"Well now my curiosity piqued," Erik stated, smirking a little. "Your illusions, they're that powerful?" he  questioned, looking at me intently.

A proud smirk appeared on my face and I leaned forward, "I could have the strongest man on Earth cowering in terror in a matter of seconds once I discover his greatest fear," I confessed, grinning widely. My eyes moved over to Charles, and found that he was already staring at me and looked to be in deep thought. He had a slight frown on his face and had been strangely quiet. "Charles, are you sure your alright?" I asked, concern lining my face.

"I'm fine really, I was just thinking, that's all," Charles explained, flashing a quick smile. "We've seen your capabilities with your empathic powers, how about your telekinesis?" Charles asked, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up from the chair.

A smiled beamed from my face once again, "Well, I'm glad you asked," I began, standing up from my own seat and clapping my hands together. "I'm going to need two mannequins for this demonstration," I instructed, before walking out of the library. "And come outside, it's too beautiful of a day to be stuffed up in the mansion," I called over my shoulder, as I left.

I opened the front door to the mansion and it was a lot warmer than it was this morning and I relished in the feeling of sunlight on my skin, small joys and all of that. The land around Charles's family home was even bigger than I thought. No matter which way I looked it seemed endless. I spotted a stone bench and I made my towards it, hearing the gravel crunch under my feet.

I sat down on the warm bench and closed my eyes basking in the warmth of the sun. The sound of footsteps behind me cause me to look over my shoulder to see Erik and Charles both carrying a mannequin. They both set them down from about twenty feet away from me and I stood up from the bench, shaking my arms out as I did to prepare them for what I was going to do.

Erik and Charles took their places beside me, I closed my eyes and concentrated until I felt a familiar sensation in my hands. I opened my eyes, my hands were surrounded by purple energy.

"And now boys," I began, lifting my hand up and one of the mannequin's floated off the ground, enveloped in a purple energy. "For my next trick," I continued, my eyes never leaving my target, with a pulse of telekinetic energy I crushed it my grip and it fell to the ground in a heap. I turned my sights on the second mannequin, this time lifting both my hands as the same purple energy encasing the limbs. I push my hands away from each other, ripping the mannequin apart and the limbs dropping to lawn. "Ta da," I sang, dropping my hands and glancing between Erik and Charles.

"That's incredible! Claudia, your control is amazing!" Charles commented happily.

"That all I can do for now, I'm a bit tired. But as you can see, I'm pretty adept with my telekinesis, and with your help..." I trailed off, looking between Charles and Erik.

"There's no telling how powerful you will become," Erik finishing my statement, with an excited grin.

"Why do you sound more excited than I am, Erik?" I questioned, with a smile.

Erik let out a short laugh before turning to face me, "Because with your abilities the possibilities are endless," he answered, a smirk on his lips.

~~~x~~~

"What are we doing in here?" I asked surveying my surroundings. The small, personal gym had the typical equipment you expected to find. At the front, were some weight benches with the bar resting above it. Behind the benches at the far end of the room held two punching bags, some sparring gear, and some free weights. "I've already did my fair share of lifting weights today," I complained, looking back at Erik.

After my awkward encounter with Raven and Hank I finally forced myself to work out. It hurt. A lot. To say my upper body strength needed improvement was an understatement.

Erik smirked, "We may have powers, but it's still very useful to know the art of hand to hand combat," he explained, as he placed a safety mat on the floor beckoning me over.

I nodded understanding why this was needed, attempting to improve my general hand to hand combat without the use of my powers would always be useful. There would be times when I possibly wouldn't be able rely on my abilities immediately and I would need to stall before being able to use my powers against an enemy.

"First thing you're going to learn is a basic punch," Erik began, grabbing my hand and balling it into a fist. "You not only need to know how to punch, but where to punch," he continued, lifting my fist to his forehead. "You aim too high, you'll hit their forehead which is the equivalent of hitting a brick wall," Erik explained, lowering my fist too his jaw. "Hit too low, you'll get their chin, also not recommended," he said, moving my fist to a higher place on his face. "The best place to punch is there nose or eyes that's where they'll be most vulnerable," Erik finished, releasing my fist.

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked curiously, letting my hand fall to my side.

"I was forced to teach myself how to fight, it was the only way I could survive..." he trailed off, with a faraway look before he suddenly lunged for me, tackling me to the ground being careful enough not to actually injure me.

"Hey! What the hell Erik!" I exclaimed, sitting up on my arms. "I wasn't ready!" I complained, before blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"Rule number one, always be ready," Erik responded neutrally, but I could have sworn that the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly into the hint of a smirk. "Did I mention places like the neck or the shin are also sensitive to impact. You should try it," he added cockily.

I glared at him, "You're such an asshole," I commented, as I got up and took a boxers stance.

Erik put his forearms up in front of his face and got into a defensive stance. I threw my first punch and I thought it was solid. I had a good arm on myself, apparently Erik felt otherwise.

"Come on Claudia, I've seen a sack of potato's hit harder!" he taunted obnoxiously. "Aren't you the same woman, who threatened to break a man's hand in seven different places," Erik reminded with mischievous eyes.

I quickly struck out at his neck hitting his jugular causing him to choke on his saliva, he lifted his hand to his throat, coughing hard as he rubbed it soothingly. I felt satisfied when he looked momentarily surprised at the force I'd used.

"Is that better?" I questioned mockingly, my lips curling upwards.

"That'll teach him for insulting and underestimating me," I thought.

Erik rubbed his throat one last time, "Claudia, that was not very ladylike," he finally commented, taking a while longer to reply.

"Lucky I'm a mutant then," I retorted, a smirk still on my face.

Immediately, I swung out my left hand attempting strike harder. I went to punch his abdomen, but he caught my hand and I drew back my foot kicking him in the shin. Erik caught a hold of both of my upper arms. My leg flew out to deliver another kick but he released my right arm just in time to catch my foot.

He tugged at my foot causing me to topple over onto the mat, he followed, dropping onto the mat into a position where he trapped my body with his own. I laid flat on my back on the mat staring up at Erik who had me pinned down with his legs that were on both sides of my thighs and his arms planted on the mat, level with my head. Staring up at him, I felt heat crawling up my neck and spreading to my cheeks as I became extremely self-aware of the position we were in.

And now being this close to Erik it made me realize that his mesmerizing irises actually had a bit of gray in them. Those stormy blue gray eyes stared down at me with such an intensity that a shiver ran up my spine. But yet I couldn't look away; his captivating gaze was somewhat beautiful, in a terrifying way. His eyes held mine much like the eyes of cat held those of a mouse. And like a mouse, I didn't move.

I felt the most peculiar sensation run through me, it felt as if my whole body was aflame. We stayed like that for half a second longer than necessary, stuck in our own world until the sound of Moira and Charles talking from afar brought us back into reality causing Erik to jump up and away from me before quickly pulling himself to his feet.

"Not bad for your first day," Erik began, clearing his throat as a way to clear the awkward tension that fell between us. Erik offered me his hand, I accepted his hand allowing him to help me upright. "But there's definitely numerous areas to improve on," Erik continued, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and momentarily avoided my eye contact. "You are nowhere near intimidating or threatening as you think you are," Erik jested, facing me again with a shit eating grin on his face.

"You're insufferable, Lehnsherr,"

~~~x~~~

I stood in the doorway, half in the library and half in the hall outside watching him. Charles was sitting before the fireplace, an old novel resting in his lap as he read. The sunset sunlight brightened the room from the window behind his chair, and the sound of the other mutants' conversation from the dining room could be heard from somewhere down the hall. It didn't look like he wasn't really paying attention to the words on the page in front of him, but rather skimmed the familiar text absentmindedly while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

I rapped quietly on the door frame and Charles glanced up, closing the book at the same time. He gave me a small smile and I made my way into the room and sat next to him on the sofa, offering a smile in return.

"I must thank you for your help today Claudia," Charles stated, placing his book down next to him. "Not a good first day, the results we had got today have been less than spectacular, but your help was greatly appreciated,"

"Is that so?" I questioned, lifting my feet from the floor and onto Charles' lap. "I really didn't do much," I reminded, with my arm resting on the back of the sofa.

Charles looked down at my feet and then back up to look at me, a smile on his face from my action and I merely shrugged returning his grin. What can I say, those shoes made my feet hurt. Charles slowly removed my flats one at a time and placed them on the wooden floor with a light thud, his hands slowly massaging my feet and I flexed my toes out.

"Nonsense. You being there for moral support was a big help today. Especially with Alex," Charles explained, moving his thumbs up and the soles of my foot, which felt heavenly and I let my eyes flutter close. "And me," Charles added quietly.

My eyes widened slightly, "Really?" I began, tilting my head. "I would've never guess that from you Charles. You always seem so cool, calm, collected. Not to mention perfect," I stated smiling, just as Charles pressed circles above my heel and I tried not to let out the moan that was threatening to come out.

"Well, no one's perfect Claudia," Charles commented, massaging my left foot now. "My confidence was a bit shaken after Alex's training, but after hearing and listening to your reassuring words...you took away the fear that I have about failing these kids," Charles explained looking up at me, his face illuminated by his million dollar smile.

His hands moved upwards slowly running both thumbs over the center of the sole of my foot.

"Speaking of fear..." I trailed off and Charles brought his eyes back to mine. "I make you uncomfortable," It is not a question, it is a statement. It's ironic that I should make a telepath uncomfortable, since our powers are uncannily similar.

Charles' hands faltered over my foot, "That's absurd, Claudia," he lied, but I can feel it in him, the roiling discomfort, the wish to get away from someone who can take and see and judge his worst memories with just a glance in his eyes. "I merely wish to help you hone your empathy," he reasoned.

"Did I forget to mention I can tell when a person is lying," I mused, causing Charles' hands to falter again. "It wasn't my place, but I wanted to know how you were doing after my illusion," I disclosed, and his hands stopped moving. "I left you feeling vulnerable, and I feel awful about it. I feel awful that I make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry," I apologized, gazing at Charles momentarily before looking away and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Charles pulled my legs, dragging me closer to him and I let out a yelp at the sudden movement. Turning my head to him I noticed our proximity to each other, we were intimately close.

"I will admit that your illusion earlier today unnerved me, but I'm not uncomfortable around you, just the opposite actually," Charles clarified, as he cupped my face. "I am the most comfortable when I am in your presence, Claudia," he confessed, before leaning down and pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

Chapter Eight: Fun & Games

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 10

Sleepless ( @daily-writing-challenge​ )

World: Warcraft

The gangway stretched out over the pier before dropping onto the wooden platform with a heavy smack. A chorus of footsteps rocked the old galleon as a hundred Kaldorei stepped out from the darkness. Still covered in the ashes of their beloved home, and kin, they shuffled down the gangway with barely a word spoken among them. Stormwind residents gathered to stare at the latest batch of Teldrassil survivors corralled down the docks. Displaced, starving, and in mourning, the Night Elves kept their eyes on the ground, their voices in hushed whispers, and their faces soaked with dirty tears. All but the Tideclaws.

Sayuune looked no better off than the rest of them, but she kept her head held high. A month at sea didn't do her any favors; it had been days since she had access to drinkable water, and nearly a week since she had something solid to eat. Her exhausted eyes were bright with hard headed determination, and her face was as still as stone, yet she staggered and stumbled with every other step.

Her daughter Nodas was faring better, but not by much; her stomach growled loudly and often, while her hungry gaze was fixed on the bands of mercenaries and sellswords who otherwise ignored the flood of incoming refugees. They went about their business in gilded armor and glimmering steel, with swollen coin purses swinging freely from their waists. Surely a few of them wouldn't notice if some of their riches went missing.

"Hello! Hello hello!" Humans descended upon the shuffling crowd pushing or pulling large empty carts. One such creature approached Sayuune and Nodas with an uncomfortable twinkle in his grin. The opulent rings adorning his hands could only mean one thing - merchants seizing an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate. "You need gold! I need moon elf items my collection! We trade be happy!" His Darnassian was awful, but clear enough to understand. Sayuune saw other refugees trading in what little rags they had for copper and silver coins, desperate for a bite to eat and drinkable water.

The last thing Sayuune wanted to part with was her bramblestaff; not only was it a priceless family heirloom, it was one of the only things she had left of her husband. Reluctantly she raised the staff for the merchant to inspect. "How much will this get me?"

"Mom?!" Nodas hissed, her eyes flaring. "What are you doing?!" She squeezed her daughter's hand to get her to quiet down.

"We need food."

Unsurprisingly he ripped them off. A staff easily worth thirty thousand gold was traded for less than three. "What choice do I have…" When they reached the front of the line, Nodas was relieved to find a fellow Kaldorei sitting behind the desk, but Sayuune wasn't so easily pleased.

"Ishnu-alah, sisters." His dull yellow eyes scanned them both with a most unusual scrutiny. "My name is Lieutenant Armin Ashquiver. I'll need your names."

"Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw." The mother proudly stated; they could take her home, her belongings, even her family, but their names would forever be theirs. He scribbled down their names in silence, adding them to the long list of poor displaced souls now forced to live in this strange and hostile city.

"There's a soup kitchen at the camps you'll be staying in. Courtesy of His Majesty. That should hold you over for the night... but don’t expect much. Most of the crops are headed straight to the warfront." He looked up at Sayuune. "Plenty of jobs out there for a steady income, but they're filling up fast. I know you're tired, but I'd recommend looking before nightfall." He pulled out a piece of paper and planted a red stamp on the bottom. "Enjoy your stay in Stormwind City."

The goopy slop poorly masquerading as soup was a grievous insult to the Kaldorei people, but it was still the best meal she's had since Teldrassil. Nodas ate more than her fair share and fell asleep before their tent was even made, but that hardly mattered to her mother; she was just happy her daughter was finally resting. Sayuune, however, couldn’t rest. Once the tent was built around her snoozing daughter, she departed to the streets of Stormwind to find work.

Shop by shop, street by street, she was hit with disappointment again, and again, and again. Day in, day out, sunset to sunset.

"Sorry we're not looking for applicants right now!"

"I'd love to give you a job but I'm full already!"

"I can't hire you right off the street!"

"A buddy of mine across the city might be interested in extra help."

"Sorry, but we can't - what will my wife think hiring a woman like you?"

"Can't hire an elf around here. I got my reputation to uphold… you understand, right?"

"Yeah babe I can hire you, heheh… how much for the night?"

"You're filthy! Beat it vagrant!"

Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of asking. Two weeks of nothing.

Every time she was turned away, the fake smile and forced persona was whittled down. Nightfall came and went, leaving her exhausted in the Mage Quarter courtyard. Her feet were screaming for rest and she could no longer ignore them; she found the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it with a well-earned sigh of relief. The gold she earned selling her most prized possession was almost all gone; determination was turning into desperation, and if she didn’t find work soon, her daughter would begin to starve. For now her search would have to be put on hold until the shops reopened in the morning.

A woman eased herself down onto the bench beside Sayuune. Her fragrance was alluring but she couldn't recognize the scent, her silk clothes looked as expensive as the jewelry covering her hands and fingers; her painted nails were quite long, almost impractically so. She made Sayuune feel like a vagrant more than anyone else she's met in this abysmal city. "Hard time finding work?" The stranger asked with a seductively soothing voice. Sayuune was compelled to meet her gaze, but her words caught in her throat the moment she was confronted by her striking beauty; if she wasn't a Highborne, she could fool Sayuune.

"I…" Her timid mutter stirred the stranger to smile, her dark purple lips grinning from ear to ear.

Sayuune didn't notice the woman's hand until her nails traced the base of her chin. "Stunning, aren't I? There isn't a man alive that can resist my delectable charm. The dead ones aren't immune to it either." Sayuune wanted to pull away from her grip, but she felt paralyzed… mesmerized. "But look at you… these high cheekbones… these full lips… these glimmering eyes. You're quite the looker yourself, honey. How long do you plan on wandering these streets like a beggar when you can rule the underground scene like a queen?"

"What… do you…" It was difficult to speak when she gazed into her eyes, almost feeling like she was lost in a sea of swirling quicksilver.

The stranger's smile only grew. "I want to help you get back on your feet. I help run a little organization that's in serious need of gorgeous and flexible women like us. Interested?"

"An escort service?" That was enough to pull Sayuune out of her trance to rise to her throbbing feet. "I can't do that. To even approach me like… I can't. I have a husband I'm waiting on to return from the war… a daughter that looks up to me…"

"A shame." Her tone suddenly changed, as did the frigid expression on her face. "While you wait on your doting man, you and your daughter starve." She rose, towering over Sayuune in her jade heels. "Should you come to your senses, seek out the ugliest worgen you come across in Old Town." An uncomfortable grin spread across her lips. "Tell them Momma sent you." Before Sayuune could speak, Momma tossed a coin purse at her chest. "That's how much my girls can earn in a night. Sleep on it."

Sayuune watched as the elegant woman turned and strode off, presumably to another potential recruit. She waited until she was gone before opening the coin purse. "Impossible!" Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred gold?! She's lying…!" With that kind of income most of her problems would be over. Her and her daughter would eat better than they ever did; her husband would bring back two to three grand every two months… she could out earn that within weeks! Within days!

"No…" Sayuune closed her eyes and shuddered. "To betray Vilaron like this… I couldn't! How could I look him in the eyes if I… sold my body...?"

The journey back to the refugee camps was unbearably long. Her imagination played cruel games by asking her questions she didn't want the answers to. "What if Vilaron doesn't make it back in time before we starve to death? What if this woman already approached Nodas? What if she is being used by one of her 'clients' at this very moment?! What if she refused and they killed her?!"

Sayuune ignored the burning ache in her feet from sprinting back to the camps, darting through alleyways and ducking through corridors to get back to her daughter as quickly as possible. The soft glowing campfires down the hill only hastened her steps until she was almost gliding down the path to reach her tent.

She swung open the drape with an audible gasp, and her fears were put to rest; Nodas stirred in her hammock and mumbled under her breath, her feet blackened and calloused from wandering the streets as well -- yet her face was still wet with tears from crying herself to sleep. As Sayuune caught her breath and quietly approached her, she noticed the crumbled scroll still in her grip. Gently she wiggled it free from Nodas' hand, pulled it taut between her fingers, and read the distinct Darnassian letters neatly sprawled across the parchment.

To Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw,

I regret to inform you the Sentinels recovered the body of your husband/father Vilaron Tideclaw. He will be delivered within the month so you can send him off properly.

Elune will grant us justice.

-L. Armin Ashquiver

Sayuune only made it halfway through the letter before she was blinded by her tears. The shock of this news hit her in waves, crashing against her composure like the tide against the cliffside; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, wishing he left with them when Teldrassil burned. Wishing she could go back in time and save him.

Wishing she was dead.

Yet Sayuune endured - she had to. With a sharp inhale and a weak sniffle, she swallowed her anguish for her daughter's sake, stepped out of the tent, and wrapped her arms around herself. Others receiving similar news took it worse than she did; their screams carried across the farmland and over the pointed tents, filling the air with sorrow so palpable she could taste it every time she licked her lips.

Nodas is all she has left of her beloved Vilaron. She is willing to die for her, now more than ever; if she can lay down her life for her daughter, surely she could lay down her dignity as well. What choice did she have? “What choice do I have...” Every day she spends wasting her time looking for honest work, her daughter goes hungry. "For Nodas… no price is too great…"

With a slight grimace on her face and a shiver up her spine, Sayuune braced herself for the hardship she would endure in the unknowable future.

[hellraisered]

tommy jarvis x reader killing jason together

tommy jarvis / gender neutral reader || killing jason voorhees. 

You've lost so much in such little time. Far more than you cared to comprehend.

People you'd bonded with, befriended, relied upon, now little more than bloodied spatters upon one white walls, smeared across mahogany shelving and only just barely recognizable as a person at all anymore. You'd vomited when you saw the first body. Mangled, hung and stuck upon a protruding branch, as if it was to serve as a morbid trophy, a territorial marking - a reminder of who the camp belonged to.

Despite the fact that'd they'd been dead for at least a few hours, the same gaze of revulsion and fear stayed frozen upon features post mortem. You had nothing with which to ground yourself - as if you were already accepting your impending death, your own safety now completely irrelevant or nearly impossible to attain. However, a hand upon your back interrupted your haze. Who the cause of the sensation was mattered little - for all you cared, it was the killer - the legend, Voorhees, here to tear you apart limb from limb until you're nothing but meat for roaming wild dogs.

"Hey," a voice, masculine and warm, sends a shock through you, a feeling not dissimilar to sitting by a fireplace during a cold winter night, hands cupped around a warm beverage. "I'm here, it's -" and you can tell he wants to say ' it's alright ', but catches himself on the lie. "I'm here now."

The shotgun on his back, and the confidence with which he held himself echoed an aura of comfort that only further drew you in, like a magnet you didn't care resisting. The mere fact that someone alive was with you made you feel better, but you still found yourself heaving once more into the dirt, even though you had nothing more to vomit. And yet, the entire time, he kept a firm hand upon your back. The gesture did not go unnoticed on your part.

Regaining your senses, through eyes blurred by tears, you faintly recognize him to be the man a pair of officers escorted off of the premises earlier that same evening. 'Thomas Jarvis', - a raving lunatic, they'd called him. Funnily enough, at this point, he didn't seem so crazy anymore.

He offers you a place in his vehicle which you graciously accept, and the interior, like him, smells of leather and sweat - but in a pleasant way - subtle, not overwhelming. It distracted you from his explanation a couple times, your new companion giving you almost annoyingly brief summaries of the occurrences at the camp, and dubiously snippy responses.

"I can drop you off at the exit; you can run and get help, or at least get out of here," he said, taking a left. You hadn't noticed before, having been busy vomiting, but he was kind of a pretty man. The way his brow furrowed slightly in worry, the subtle curve in his nose elegantly giving way to an inviting pair of lips.

"Well?"

You first realize you had been staring for longer than you intended to, and he likely noticed, but then the question registers with you.

"Well I think that's bullshit," your throat still stings from your stomach acid, but that didn't stop you from snapping at him. "The bastard killed my friends, and now he has to fucking pay."

                                                              -

You stand with an axe in your hand, tattered sweater just barely hanging on to your shoulders.

The hulking mass of a man approaches the both of you, blood trickling down the hockey mask faintly illuminated by the moon. You feel paralyzed - frozen in place, your knuckles paling around the wooden and splintering handle.

"Do what we talked about, alright? We can do this. But if you change your mind, you- you can still go, I can do this by myself."

Even the implication that one man would have been able to tear down Jason on his own would have made you laugh, but for him to say it out loud? That was even funnier.

"I can," and you swallow, still finding it difficult to speak, "I can handle myself."

Rivulets of sweat trickle down your forehead, and Jason continues to approach - almost mocking with his near leisurely pace. When he’s in reach of your blade, you lift the axe, and begin your assault upon his person. 

A shotgun goes off, his mask falls, and you shout something, pretending to be his mother -  

Jason is entranced.

Tommy seizes the opportunity, and tears the axe from your grip, raising it in the air, allowing it to come crashing down upon Jason’s head with no hesitation. 

Jason's body sits there, bleeding from the skull, an axe having been jammed into a soured brain, rotten and maggot ridden. His corpse falls still to the ground, and you're not even sure he's dead yet - neither is Tommy, you discover, turning your head to look at him, alert with hands now clenched around the shotgun. The both of you stand silent like that for a while, able to faintly make out approaching police sirens in the distance.

You elect to break the trance the both of you found yourselves in. Each of your footsteps seemed far more louder than they should have been as you approached him. He's shaking - just barely, and his grip upon his weapon hasn't relented, as if he's expecting Jason to get up again, perhaps almost wanting him to, just so he could kill him once more.

A hand of yours outstretches to tentatively place itself near the small of his back, the other resting upon one of his hands, knuckles paled.

"It's over- " almost a whisper. " - you did it. He's gone. Please let go."

It's obvious he doesn't want to, by the way he reflexively moved the shotgun towards his torso, protective of it- it was his security - but he looks into your eyes, and doesn't need any further explanation to understand that this is the closest you can get to pleading in this state. His grip relaxes, and you take the shotgun in one hand, putting a hand on his cheek with the other. 

He places his own palm on top of it. The skin on the front of his hand is rough and calloused, but has the same warmth his voice did - consuming, addictive, and suddenly all you wanted to do was place your face in his hands and never leave.

"We did it," he corrects you, quietly, and a little late. He kisses your forehead, pulls you into an embrace that you think might break your spine, and you can feel a few of his tears fall upon your own skin. His hand tangles itself in your hair, and he pulls you away from him, just enough to look you in the eyes once more.

"We did it."

[mila-dans]

Spells Out Trouble: Take It Easy

This is chapter two of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!

Chapter One: I Wanna Know What Love Is

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3670

Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.

Just so you know: This is my first Fanfic so sorry if there are aspects missing. “Spells Out Trouble” is a series with about ten chapters. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last but was really fun to write. If you have any suggestions or tips, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it! (Also, not my gif!)

“Dean?” You ask and as you do so, Dean gulps as if you managed to take his breath away when calling his name. “Dean?” You ask again and this time, the biggest smile comes on Dean’s face like an excited puppy. “Dean, wh…what is it?”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stand paralyzed, waiting for the punchline. “What?” You ask, unsure of what is happening.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I love you so much.” Dean's smile became bigger while your face only became redder.

You look at Sam who was also at a loss for words and then revert your attention back to the puppy-like Dean. “I’m sorry? Um, what is that supposed to mean?” You clear your throat, trying to wrap your head around his words. Dean doesn’t respond but continues to look at you with his glowing smile. “Sam,” you look towards Sam, wide-eyed. “What is this?” Your expression is one of confusion and uncertainty which imitates the thoughts running rampant in your head.

Sam mirrors your confusion and shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know but he’s been like this all morning.” He takes a deep breath trying to clarify, “He’s been wanting to see you all morning.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you clear your throat again, trying to gain some confidence in this uncomfortable situation, “he just woke up and is now ‘in love’ with me?” As soon as the words come out of your mouth, the memory of the night before returns. You recall your drunken confession and wonder for a moment if it has anything to do with the situation at hand.

“I um, guess so?” You and Sam look at Dean who has been completely still since his confession. He appears to be almost under hypnosis with a huge smile laced on his face. His gaze keeps on you as if his intense focus is the only thing keeping you alive. 

“Dean?” You call out nervously. 

He blinks, snapping out of his trance and responds excitedly, “Yes, my Love?” He moves a step closer to you and you move a step back.

“Are, um,” he continues to get closer to you and you continue to move further away from him, “Are you okay?” You try and smile to ease the tension but it doesn’t help now that Dean is completely locked onto you, following your every move.

“I was great this morning but now,” Dean pauses taking a sigh of relief, “now that you’re here, I’m phenomenal!” Dean says with his insane smile. Realizing how close he is to you and how crazy he looks, you search the room for an escape. You look towards Sam trying to get his attention as Dean slowly backs you up into a corner.

“Dean?” Sam steps in between you and his brother, “How about you back away from Y/N for a moment, okay?” Sam puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders keeping his brother at arms length. Dean takes his focus off of you and unto Sam. Quickly, Dean’s insane smile and love stricken appearance turns into a deadly gaze. Sam looks in Dean’s eyes and you can hear the panic in Sam’s voice. “Dean,” he lets out a very nervous laugh, “What are you doing there, bud?” Dean stares at Sam with his murderous gaze. 

Dean looks at you and then back at Sam. “What are you doing, Sammy?” Dean’s tone lowers to a grim and protective one. “Are you trying to keep Y/N away from me?!” His voice rises along with the tension in the room.

Sam pats Dean’s shoulder while trying not to tremble. “No,” Sam says unconvincingly. “No, course not. I wouldn’t do that.” Dean moves towards Sam causing him to trip while walking backwards. 

You walk slowly to the bathroom trying not to be noticed. Sam sees you and mouths out, “Go,” to you as you nod and make a run for it.

Boom

In a split second, Dean sees the interaction out of the corner of his eye and punches Sam in the face, knocking him backwards, falling to the ground. Dean stands over Sam’s unconscious body laid out on the motel floor as his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. You stand still in the bathroom as he becomes once again target locked upon you, changing his sadistic killer look into a wide-eyed one complete with a huge smile. You yelp in panic and both you and Dean run to the door. You manage to lock yourself in the bathroom before Dean has a chance to get in. 

“What the hell?!” You say to yourself as you try to process the series of events. First, Dean was hungover and unconscious, then completely alert and in love with you. Now he looks like he wants to kill you but at the same time kiss you. “None of this makes any sense,” you mumble. 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Before you can finish processing, anything, Dean starts to bang on the door. “Dean, stop it!” You demand. He continues hammering the door with such force that you wonder if or when it will come down.

“I’m sorry, Y/N!” Dean says, pausing his hits. “I had to. He was trying to get between us!” Dean almost sounds sad and upset by his actions.

“Dean, you are crazy!” You go through the items in the bathroom trying to find something useful to the situation. “Something is really wrong with you! You knocked out your brother for crying out loud!”

“Y/N, listen, I love you so much and Sam,” Dean shifts his tone trying to justify his actions, “Sam was getting in the way of my love for you. You have to understand that I didn’t want to hurt him and I certainly would never hurt you!” 

Dean’s knocking ceases and you begin to estimate how long you think it would take for either Dean to leave or Sam to regain consciousness. “Dean?” You ask as you go over to the door, noticing the silence coming from the other side. “Dean?” You become worried that he had taken off or worse, found a way in. As you get closer to the door, you hear a faint sob.

Dean sniffles, “Yes?”

You realize that the source of the sob is coming from him. “Are you crying, Dean?” You ask, unsure of what he is doing exactly.

No answer.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” You ask trying to find some understanding to Dean’s newly found roller coaster of emotions.

“I..” Dean continues to sniffle, “I just love you so much. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You become even more confused as to how so quickly his emotions changed. “It’s okay, Dean,” you reply trying to offer him some sort of comfort. Never in your life have you ever heard or seen Dean Winchester cry. Now that he is, it seems much scarier than you thought it would be. You look around the bathroom and suddenly the sight of a window sets in. “Hey, Dean?” You ask as you develop a plan of escape.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You want to see me, right? And do what with me exactly?” You ask and immediately hear his sobbing stop.

“Yes!” He answers eagerly and excitedly. “I want to see you and kiss you and hold you! Oh, please, oh, please let me hold you! I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you all over and hug you so tight that you never leave--”

“Okay,” you cut Dean off who has seemingly switched back to his puppy dog love state. “Okay, listen Dean, I’ll let you do all that,” you shake your head, wondering how you got in this situation or how in the hell he wound up like this, “you can do all of those things, in just a minute, okay?” You ponder the thought of having Dean actually kiss you and what it would be like, but soon realize that not only is now not the time to fantasize, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be in the arms of an insane love sick psycho.

“Really?!” You hear Dean get up and start to rattle the door knob.

You try to come up with an excuse for making him wait. “Yes, really. But before you do, give me a minute to, um, wash my, uh, face and brush my teeth.” You try to say as convincingly as possible.

“Okay! Okay! Yes!” You feel the ground shake as Dean jumps up and down. You go over to the faucet and turn on the water then go over and open the window. You continue to hear the eager Dean ask repeatedly if you are done yet and you respond for as long as you can till you crawl out the window taking off as fast as possible.

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

After hopping out the window, you know you only have a matter of seconds till Dean realizes you're gone. You manage to run towards the front of the building and hear your name being shouted by Dean in the motel room. You rush over to a black cadillac in the parking lot that has two ladies coming out of it and hide behind them.

“Tell him I went over there!” You say to the ladies as you point to a waffle restaurant only a little ways away. The women look at you then see Dean who continues to call out your name, kick down the motel room’s front door. 

“Y/N?! Y/N! Where did you go?!” Dean yells out searching the parking lot. 

The women look towards you, scared for your sake and get Dean’s attention. “Young man,” the one lady says as Dean looks at her with the same death stare he used on Sam, “She went that way.” The lady pointed in the same direction you had asked them to. Dean’s death stare turns back into a big smile as he bolts down the road in a black-tee, boxers, and bare feet.

You get up from behind the car and watch as Dean runs further away from you. “Thank you, ladies,” you say as you brush yourself off. They look at you as if you are as insane as the man they just encountered. “Um,” you try to think of an explanation, “he’s my Ex!” You exclaim with a smile hoping that the comment somehow answered all their questions. You gave them a nod and ran back to the motel room, stepping over the disconnected door that was in the path.

You rushed over to Sam and bent down, trying to wipe the blood from his nose. “Sam!” You shake him, trying to get him to regain consciousness. “Sam, wake up!”

As you slap his face, he sits up taking a deep breath. “What the hell happened?!” He asks, trying to wipe the blood from his nose. He takes a look around the room then asks, “Where’s Dean?!” Sam asks as the panic in his voice rises.

“Away!” You blurt out before another Winchester starts to freak out. You help Sam stand up. “He’s looking for me at the diner right now.”

“What?! Why would he be looking for you there?” Sam asks, still confused about the whole situation.

“That’s not important, but right now, we have to go before he comes back.” Sam nods his head back while he holds his nose with one hand and you hold his other, guiding him outside to the Impala. 

The two ladies, now getting their groceries from their car, see you and the bloody Sam as you open Baby’s doors. “This uh, this is my current boyfriend.” You say with a smile, trying to offer yet another reasonable explanation. “He and my Ex don’t get along very well.” The women look at you with the same confused and shocked expressions on their face as before. You smile and get in the car hoping to never see them or the motel room again.

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

“Are you okay?” You ask as you take your hand from the wheel to wipe the blood from Sam’s shirt.

“No!” Sam yells out. “I am far from okay! Pull over.”

“Yep,” you say as you pull the car into the parking lot of a dollar store. “That's probably a good idea.”

“What the hell just happened back there, Y/N?!” Sam asks, still while holding his head back to stop the bleeding.

“You think I know?!” You laugh. “All I know is that he was fine half an hour ago when he was unconscious and then it all escalated really quick. You were the one who detected the crazy first!”

“I guess but that doesn’t mean I know why he tried to fricking murder me!” Sam throws his bloodied tissues on the car’s floor and looks at you. “All I know is that when he woke up, the moment I said your name, a switch flipped and he kept rambling on about you. It was like that until you came back.”

“Okay,” you huff, “All I know is me coming in and him saying he loved me, knocking you out, me having to lock myself in the bathroom, and him again saying how he loves me and all sorts of crazy. He even started crying at one point!”

“Why would he cry?” Sam asks as another confused look comes to his face.

“Beats me. He just got upset, I guess, when I separated myself from him. And then he knocked down the door trying to find me.”

“What happened after that?”

“Thanks to some lady who told him I was at the waffle place, he ran down the street headed to the restaurant. After that, I came to get you and now here we are.” You put your hands in your hair, considering pulling it all out if it would help clear your head. Sam’s phone rings and both of you jumped proving that you were both still very much on edge.

“It’s Cas,” Sam says as he answers, putting the phone on the dash after turning on the speaker. 

“Hello?” Says Cas with his grim and rough voice. Surprisingly, this gave you some sort of peace, knowing that it was the only normal that you had experienced today.

“Hey, Cas,” you answered, happy to hear from him.

“Hello, Y/N. Is everything alright? Sam, I saw your missed call from earlier.”

“When did you call Cas?” You ask Sam, wondering when he had a second to place a phone call in the midst of the chaos.

“I tried to this morning after Dean started acting all crazy but he never answered,” Sam replied.

“I’m sorry?” Cas said with worry in his voice. “What do you mean when ‘Dean started acting crazy?’ Is he alright?”

“No, definitely not,” you let out.

Sam goes into further detail trying to explain the events of this morning to Castiel. “Now we don’t know what is going on other than the fact that he is madly and crazily in love with Y/N.”

“What happened before all this happened?” Cas asks as you and Sam both try to remember what it was like before the chaos. 

“Um, Dean and I got drunk?” You answer as you try not to let anything else slip out about what happened while you were drunk.

“Before you got intoxicated,” Cas clarifies.

“The hunt,” Sam says with a revelation coming to his face. “The witch, the blast!” Sam says with a smile coming to his face.

“You’re right!” You say returning the smile back to him.

“What happened with the witch?” Cas asks as you and Sam continue to recall the event.

“There was a witch on the hunt last night and she blasted Dean with some spell when he got in front of the guy she intended to hit!” Sam says.

“And you think that the blast has to do with Dean’s behaviour?” Cas asks unsure.

“It has to be it,” Sam adds.

You butt in, “when I was with the witch, she was telling me about how she wanted to be loved and how her kills were accidents. So what if she was trying to use a love spell on all of them and that’s what Dean got hit with?”

“That makes sense right, Cas?” Sam asks, trying to back your theory up.

“I suppose that would make sense but if she was killing people accidentally, how did her trial and error not result in Dean’s death?” Cas questions and it turns your smile into an immediate frown.

You and Sam look at each other as if you could read one another’s thoughts.

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

You had been driving down the road between the waffle place and the motel room for several minutes now, trying to find your long lost Dean. Right before you pulled into the parking lot of Waldo’s Waffles, you saw him. Dean had been running around the building, still in his boxers, trying to get away what appeared to be two waiters and one fry cook complete with spatula chasing him. 

“Oh, boy,” You say to yourself as you park the Impala and step out of it. You watch the race around the restaurant and find it slightly entertaining. Dean continues to call out your name while throwing everything he can in his tracks to stop his chasers. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Dean calls out followed by a trio of yells and screams.

“You get back here you son of a bitch!” The cook screams, sending his spatula straight at Dean’s head causing him to topple over and fall into a pile of garbage. The three run over to Dean but before they get the chance to finish, whatever game they were playing, you race over and flash one of your badges.

“FBI, Agent Seger. Listen gentlemen, I’m gonna need one of you to explain what is happening here,” You say with your authoritative tone. The men look at each other hesitant. “Now, please!” You yell out causing all three to talk at the same time.

“This psychopath came in here calling out for someone named Y/N, half dressed and he kept trying to come in the kitchen to find her,” says one.

“Then, he decides that he’s gonna push his way in the kitchen which is off limits to anyone other than staff,” says another.

Finally, the cook speaks up, “I heard the ruckus from outside so I came out of the kitchen to find that this dick was throwing plates at my staff. I grabbed my shotgun from the back causing him to get even more pissed and aggressive.”

“And hoss here wouldn’t have that!” One of the waiters added.

“No sir,” the cook says, “when he pulled Barbara from my hands, I smashed a plate on his head to see how he liked it.”

“Barbara?” You asked.

“My shotgun,” the cook answered.

“Right,” you nod wondering why Dean didn’t kill them already, “then what happened?”

One of the waiters answers, “the dude out of nowhere started throwing waffles everywhere than took off. Me and the guys took right out after him. And then, you saw, the boss man here knocked him out with a spatula!”

“Epic!” The other waiter said. 

“Right,” you say again. “You’ve done your country a great service by, um, using your spatula with such expertise,” you spit out betting with yourself on whether or not they’d believe you.

“You’re welcome, agent,” the cook says.

“Proud to have helped America,” says the one waiter as you signal for them to leave giving them a cheap smile as they go back inside.

You won the bet.

You see Dean get up from the ground and shake off the trash. It takes him about one second for him to see you, standing alone, with no defense. “Y/N!” He calls out as his newly signature smile appears on his face.

“Time to go,” you say under your breath as you run at full speed towards the Impala with Dean chasing after you.

“Y/N, I’m so happy I found you! I thought you ran away from me but I understand that you just needed some air. Right? That was why you left me?” Dean asks, almost sad that you had left him in the motel room.

“Right, of course!” You and Dean stand across from each other with the Impala in between you.

“I love you, Y/N!” Dean says as he walks around the car, slowly moving towards you.

“I know you do, Dean,” you stand in front of the passenger side and Dean stands on the other side, across from you with his gaze tracking your every move. “And that’s why I’m sorry,” you say giving a semi smile.

Dean looks at you with a head tilt and a furrowed brow, “Sorry for what?”

Boom

The front car door opens hitting Dean in the chest and below the belt. Sam steps out from the car grabbing Dean by the collar. “Hiya, Dean,” he says, giving him a quick smile then serving a big knuckle sandwich knocking him down for the count.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list is open!

Chapter three: Roll on Down the Highway

@crazybutconfidentaf​

[softyoongiionly]

Tea and Tourniquets-The Beginning ☕️

(GIF is not mine)

There is something living in the forest beyond your village, something evil, something ancient. The only known survivor of this evil is a reclusive healer by the name of Min Yoongi. Rumor has it though, that the herbalist hermit may, in fact, be the evil himself.

Summary: You were told never to venture into the forest after dark. Stories of people going missing and, an ancient darkness, keep most of your quaint village paralyzed with fear. However, after another disappearance, you decide to do the unthinkable and, search for the answers yourself.

The darkness is real…and it’s alive.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Genre: Supernatural au! Supernatural! Yoongi, his true identity will be revealed later on, Fantasy! Au, Tsundere! Yoongi, fluff, angst, smut throughout the story, slightly spooky

Warnings: slight spooky-ness? lmao thats not a word, references to death/dark themes, future smut, moderate angst

A/N okay so hello! I hope you guys are okay with getting this in two parts. I have the plot figured out but, I really felt it was best to release it in separate pieces. The second part may be just as long, or even longer, I’m not totally sure but, I truly truly hope you guys enjoy this! I’ve been working on it for months now. I love you guys <333

“A toast to our great explorers...Namjoon, Seokjin and, Jungkook, your commitment and bravery to our village is unparalleled, thank you for all that you have done and, all that you will do...here here!”   

The booming voice of one of your village’s leader echoes off of the walls of the pub’s cozy interior and, the clinking of glasses soon follows. 

Tonight, the village is celebrating the three men who have made it their mission to answer a question that has loomed over your world for centuries: 

What lurked in the ancient forest? 

Stories had been passed down through countless generations and, although, those stories have yet to be confirmed, the disappearances and deaths surrounding the forest, served as a warning to anyone who dared to breach the trees after sunset. 

“I think we should revisit the Yoongi theory again, he’s our only clear source of information...”  

The celebration had been in full swing for roughly an hour or so before, the men of the hour had made it over to the bar.  

Seokjin smirks knowingly, glancing at Namjoon, “That’s very true Jungkook-ah, so we should go visit him then yes? Perhaps he will have time for an interview?” 

Jungkook sputters on the bitter liquid in his glass, eyes wide and blinking owlishly at his elder brother, “Are you insane? If Yoongi is behind the curse, he is more evil and powerful than any of us could possibly imagine. My swordsmanship, as incredible as it is, would be no match for his powerful...sorcerer...demon...powers.” 

The younger boy trails off as his uncertainty grows, causing the two other men to snicker in amusement. 

“Kook, we have gathered no evidence that supports this theory. Yoongi has always been helpful to our people and, just because he’s figured out how to survive in the forest, doesn’t automatically mean he’s a demon...sorcerer or, whatever it is that you just said.” 

Seokjin continues to snicker through Namjoon’s explanation and, Jungkook huffs, slumping back into his chair, his brown bunny eyes rolling in annoyance. 

“Hyung, he’s got to be ancient by now, our elders remember stories about him as young children. Don’t you think it’s strange that he’s been around for so long? What if he’s...a vampire or something?”  

At his comment, Seokjin and Namjoon burst out in a fit of belly laughter, holding onto each other through their fit. You giggle to yourself as you bend down to place a clean glass onto the shelf, shaking your head at their antics.  

“A benevolent vampire who delivers medicine, free of charge, to a village of humans? Doesn’t sound like the type to senselessly murder by the hundreds...” Jin inquires as their laughter dies down,  Jungkook retreating further into his seat, grumbling to himself. 

“Leave him alone you two...” You admonish, a fond smirk still gracing your features as you continue to straighten up the bar, your three friends directing their gazes toward you.  

“Yeah, leave me alone....” Jungkook mumbles, nudging his foot against Namjoon. 

“We’re just trying to encourage him to be more logical Y/N, he’s new to our profession...it’s very easy to get carried away.” Namjoon smirks, still chuckling as he nudges Jungkook in return.  

“Hyung, with all due respect, it’s hard to be logical when all the evidence points to something...otherworldly. Besides, has anyone in recent times seen Min Yoongi? How do we know it’s him dropping off the remedies, what if it’s one of his familiars or something?” Jungkook urges, eyes going wide once again as he leans towards Namjoon. 

Jin brows raise, “Familiars? So is he a vampire or a witch?” 

“Maybe, he’s a vampire...witch...” Jungkook insists, slitting his eyes toward Jin. 

Namjoon snickers again, taking a sip of his whiskey before nodding to you, “Y/N hasn’t your grandfather encountered Yoongi? Can’t he vouch for his normalcy?” 

Your grandfather had been your caretaker since you were around the age of 7. After the passing of your parents, he had vowed to raise you as his own. Although your grandfather claimed to be a logical man, he often gave in to the mythical side of life or, ‘teahouse tales’ as he fondly referred to it. He encouraged your curiosity but, he always warned you of breaching the trees after dusk. During the day however, the two of you had spent quite a bit of time in the forest. Your grandfather loved researching the flora and fauna of the region and, you often accompanied him on his days out. If you were ever to go on your own, he had a few rules that he urged you to follow. 

1. Stay away from the blue frogs (they’re poisonous) 

2. Remember to pack an extra change of clothes (a swim in the lake is impossible to resist) 

3. Don’t eat ANY of the plants (especially the beautiful ones) 

4. Be home before sunset 

5. DON’T BOTHER YOONGI 

Pretty simple. You rarely ventured into the forest alone and, if you did, there was never a time when you felt compelled to go very far. There was no guarantee you would make it back in time before sundown and, there were plenty of sights to indulge in right at the forest’s entrance. You understood the first four rules without explanation although, one day, your curiosity got the better of you and, you asked your grandfather why he had included Yoongi on the rule list:  

 “Yoongi is a...solitary type. He doesn’t take kindly to strangers and, it’s just...best if you let him be. His cottage is quite difficult to find anyhow but, even on the chance you should see it, you’d be wise not to approach it.”  

“May I ask why?” 

“Yoongi is a medicine man and, a good one at that but, no one really knows how he procures his remedies, especially without connections to the mainland. There are rumors that he may be practicing spellwork...”  

“Spellwork? Is that legal?” 

“Well...our region has always been more forgiving of benevolent spellwork but, still, you can never be too careful...” 

“Have you ever encountered him before?” 

“I have yes, he didn’t do me any harm but, he wasn’t the kindest fellow I’ve ever met...there was something strange about him though. He had a darkness of sorts, something lingering...it’s hard to explain. He didn’t say much, only asked that I keep away from his cottage. Strangely compelling actually, he put me in a bit of a trance but, that could be my old age talking...just promise me, you won’t go looking for him ok?”  

“Ok, I promise.” 

You turn to your friends, pouring Seokjin another drink, “Well, technically he’s only seen him once but, according to him Yoongi was pretty strange...maybe Jungkook is on to something...”   

The responses cause Namjoon to groan whilst Jungkook simultaneously lights up, “See? Pretty strange, we have an eyewitness, from a reliable source, stating that Yoongi was strange...how’s that for evidence hyung?”  

“Lacking, severely lacking.” Namjoon answers immediately, “Yoongi is a man who chooses to live alone, in a forest that is notoriously known for being haunted...of course he’s going to be strange. Not to mention the fact that no one really knows how old he is so, his age could also play a factor in his behavior...” 

Jin nods thoughtfully, smirking at Jungkook as he once again deflates into his seat, “I think we’re dancing around the inevitable here...” 

“Which is?” Namjoon glances in his direction, annoyance starting creep into his features.  

Namjoon is not a fan of the fantastical and, rarely makes time for conversations surrounding these topics. 

“Jungkook may be right...”  

“Hyung…” Namjoon begins as Jungkook perks up, a jovial smile appearing on his face. 

“Right now, he is one of our theories yes?” Jin explains further, amused at the chaos his suggestion caused 

“He is not, I’ve just explained why its highly unlike_” Namjoon dismisses but, Jin cuts him off and continues.  

“Unlikely, Namjoon, not impossible...” Jin sends a pointed look his way and, you’re quite surprised considering the fact that Jin isn’t known for his serious nature.  “Yoongi is the only man who may have some insight into what happens in those trees and, as far as I know, he has been serving our village for years, there is no real threat in paying him a visit. I meant what I said earlier…we need to speak with him.” 

“Hyung, with all due respect, the threat isn’t Yoongi himself but, the journey…we don’t know where he resides, he could live miles and miles into the forest…what if we were unable to make it back before sundown?” Namjoon insists, wise eyes pleading with Jin to see his point of view. 

A pang of fear hits your chest at the thought of your friends being lost to the clutches of the forest, you decide to speak up once again, urging them away from dangerous choices, “You could always wait at the Archway, his remedies appear there every week, my grandfather believes he delivers in the middle of the night, to avoid being seen…” 

The three of them regard one another for a moment before, Namjoon reluctantly nods, his lips pursed in an attempt to release the tension in his face, “That’s…not a bad idea actually…” 

“The Archway is in plain sight at the edge of the forest, it would allow us a safe space for interacting with him…or whoever happens to show up.” Jin points out, nodding to Jungkook, the smirk reappearing on his face, “Maybe the kid should sit this one out…” 

Jungkook’s feathers are thoroughly ruffled as he sits up straighter in his seat, attempting to mask the obvious fear on his face, “What? No, Hyung…I’m ready, I promise, I’ve been training every day, I could take down anyone that comes through that archway…” 

Namjoon chuckles, some of his frustration starting to dissipate, “We don’t want to take down our witness before we’ve spoken to him Kook…” 

“Well, when we need to…I’m ready; I have your backs…” Jungkook vows, determination ringing clear in his innocent tone, his hyungs both smiling fondly in return. 

“That’s good to know, we’ll need a strong man on our side…especially since, you know, Yoongi is an evil vampire witch…” Jin retorts, holding in his laughter 

“Exactly!” Jungkook agrees enthusiastically, smiling at his hyung’s decision to accept his theory. 

His reaction causes the three of you to laugh, gratitude heavy in your hearts for the small bit of innocence still left in your village. 

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The following morning you awake just on the crest of sunrise. Washed out light teases the edges of your window, casting a square shadow on the wall opposite you. It was a peaceful night’s rest, a rarity in these times so; you pull the blankets over you to shield yourself against the cold. You are currently resisting the temptation to slip back into the warm embrace of slumber until the shattering of glass jolts your body upright. 

“Grandpa?? Are you ok?” The shaky call of your voice wobbled in your throat and, you nearly slip on the wooden floor as you scramble out of your bedroom. 

“Grandpa!?”  Your tone increases in it’s urgency as you frantically scan the den, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Back here!” There’s nothing out of order in his tone but, that doesn’t stop you from hastily shoving open the heavy wooden door that lead to your back-garden. 

Your grandfather’s hearty laughter greets you as you stumble onto the patch of grass which was barely hanging on for dear life. 

“Good morning!” He chirps, looking up from the floor that’s currently covered in glass. 

“Are you alright? I heard…a noise and…” You’re slightly out of breath, your chest recovering from the tightness it had just endured. 

Your grandfather snickers and shakes his head at you, reaching for the wooden broom leaning against the side of the house. 

He’s tinkering again. 

“Did I wake you?” He murmurs, amusement coloring his tone as he sweeps up his mess 

“No but, you almost gave me a heart attack, I thought you fell…and, what did I tell you about conducting your experiments without proper lighting? You’re going to get hurt…again.” You grumble, finally feeling yourself calm down as he snickers again. 

“Alchemists get hurt all the time, Y/N, nothing to ruffle your feathers about…” He chuffs, smirking fondly at you as he scoops the glass into his mixing bowl, his brow furrowing in thought as he likely is thinking of ways to use the newly shattered beaker in his concoction. 

Your grandfather practiced alchemy which essentially meant that he spent day after day trying to turn things into gold: a dangerous and wildly unsuccessful hobby. 

“Yes but, you’re archaic and, if anything ever happened to you, I would be a wreck…” You bite back, returning his smirk as you size up the possibly lethal mixture. 

He pulls back in mock offense, eyes widening in playful horror, “Archaic?! I don’t look a day over 25, I’ve never felt better!” 

“That may be so but, you were badly hurt last summer weren’t you? And you couldn’t get out of bed for a month and, since I was the one worried sick about you, I have every reason to get my feathers ruffled…” 

Your grandfather chuckles, nodding in surrender, his fingers stalling on the edge of his mixing bowl “Alright, alright, I concede; I’ll try and be more careful.” 

Eyes narrowing in his direction, you nod, attempting to look firm as you adjust your dressing gown. 

“Thank you.” 

Suddenly, a large horn asserted itself into the atmosphere around you. The sound sends a sinking feeling into your stomach and, your grandfather’s playful gaze turns to one of pure horror. 

“No…not again…” He whispers as you pull a shaky breath through your nose, gesturing for him to come inside. 

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BANG. 

A gavel near the front of the room slams down onto the cherrywood of the council desk, sending a jolt of panic through your chest. 

“Be silent! We will accomplish nothing with all of you quarreling at once!” 

The council sits at the head of your villages Home Room, the five of them clearly frightened and frazzled. The people of your village had gathered in wake of the horn, most of which were still in their bed clothes. At the sound of the gavel, the room settles but, the thick and unyielding tension still hangs in the air. 

“Tayeon has been taken by the forest.” One of your council members delivers the news with a solemn expression, their face stiffening as the crowd reacts. 

The announcement takes your breath away, your hand clutching Jin’s, who is currently sitting beside you, a solemn look on his face. His long fingers tangle with yours as he pulls a deep breath through his nose, attempting to mask the fear in his heart. 

Tayeon was a young boy, not yet surpassing his 7th birthday. You knew him well, he was a gentle soul, always giving to others, placing freshly baked bread outside of  people’s homes in the morning and tending to the weeds of the elderly. Any good deed he could manage, Tayeon would accomplish. 

And now, he was gone.

Vanished.

Just like that. 

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes but, you manage to hold it together, clutching Jin’s hand tighter as the council members continued to elaborate on the most recent disappearance. 

“His family states that he was sound asleep in his chambers and, when they awoke this morning, he was gone…” 

It was then, that you spot Tayeon’s family; both of his fathers are huddled together on a bench near the front of the room, Tayeon’s older sister, Minerva, consoling them as they wept.  

“How are we to know that it was the forest? What if he wandered off elsewhere?” A young man chimes in, you recognize him as Chanyeol, a young blacksmith from the center of your village. 

“The forest glows this morning does it not? That is your answer.” Namjoon is on the council this year and, his usual sunny disposition is replaced with stoicism, his jaw clenched as he responds to the inquiry. 

The forest was usually clouded in darkness, particularly at night however, following a disappearance, the space between the trees glows a dim ruby color and, occasionally you will see a faint violet light darting through the branches; this phenomena has yet to be understood. The entirety of the forest glows through the day and, the sun never rises high enough to constitute a full sunrise and, your village usually spends the day indoors, the light not sufficient enough to complete its usual routine. Livestock are brought inside, shops close down and, the kitchen serves only porridge for breakfast and, rice for dinner.  It felt appropriate however, the sun shouldn’t shine over a mourning village, it’s too intrusive. 

“I am no longer going to stand idly by as another one of our people vanishes. The answer is obvious, the only person living in that forest is Min Yoongi therefore, he is our prime suspect. Upon the rising of tomorrow’s sun, we must summon him for trial. He must face justice!” 

“But, Yoongi has been an asset to our community for years and, his remedies have saved far more lives than, have been lost.” 

“We have never had extended contact with him, we know nothing of his intentions, don’t you think it’s odd that he drops off his remedies and, refuses to interact with our people? How is he getting knowledge of our ailments?” 

“Exactly, he either has a spy on the inside or he is obtaining his information through unorthodox means…he could be a spellworker” 

“So what if he is? As far as I’m concerned, he is using his talents for good.” 

“Good? Do you suggest that the disappearances of our people are a good thing?” 

The bickering between the council members continue and, you find yourself shrinking into your seat as the volume of their encounter seems to grow. Tension rises in the crowd as well and, as more and more people join the conversation, the room erupts into chaos. Arguments are breaking out left and right regarding whether or not the village should arraign Yoongi and, just before the interactions incite a riot, your grandfather stands, his voice bellowing out into the crowd.  

“I have encountered Min Yoongi…” He announces, causing the storm of chaos to slow to a mere murmur, dozens of eyes darting towards your grandfather. 

“Mr. Y/L/N, with all due respect, several of our senior councilmembers have encountered Min Yoongi. Due to their unpleasant experiences, we only have further reason to believe in his wickedness. Now as we were saying_” 

“He saved my life.” Your grandfather chimes in again, slightly clouded eyes shooting a determined glance towards the council, his chest puffing out slightly. 

Namjoon’s brows furrow at his announcement, deciding to speak up for the first time since the council began arguing, “He…he saved your life? Would mind elaborating Mr. Y/L/N?” 

Your grandfather clears his throat, glancing at you momentarily before continuing. 

“When I was a young boy, I wandered into the trees…” A hushed gasp falls over the crowd as your grandfather tells his story, “I was searching for lavender and, at the time, it grew in tremendous amounts along the river…I wasn’t a great swimmer you see. I fell in and, Yoongi saved me. I’m not sure how he managed, as he was a slight man but, he did. He seemed to conjure the tides of the river to pull me ashore. I’ll admit, he was brash and left very little room for questioning but, he saw to it that I return to the borderline, safe and sound. As we parted ways, he warned me against returning to the forest and, told me to stay away from his cottage, should I ever find it…” 

“And did you…ever find it?” Namjoon inquires again, the entire room completely still as they await the conclusion of your grandfather’s story. 

He sighs then, hesitating a moment before nodding, “Curiosity is an illness I frequently suffer from…I went back the following week in search of his home. I wanted to express my gratitude…the journey took me half a day, I think, if I remember correctly,  but, I finally came across a small cottage nestled inside several massive dead trees. There were no security measures, no gate, no padlock, not even a guard dog. He was completely vulnerable to the outside elements…he came out as soon as I approached his home and, scolded me for disobeying him, he did accept my token of gratitude however…a large bag of coffee beans that I had procured from a merchant near the edge of town. He was strange; there was something…awry about him. I remember feeling very tired as he was speaking to me, he spoke a language I did not recognize and, the next thing I knew, I woke up at the borderline, completely alone.” 

Whispers fall over the room once again and, the people gathered in the home room glance earnestly at one another. One of the council members nod to your grandfather, 

“Would you be willing pay him another visit Mr. Y/L/N? We believe he  …” 

Alarm signals deep within your stomach, your head whipping to the front of the room and, then quickly over to your grandfather, “No, no absolutely not…he cannot make the journey himself…he wouldn’t make it back in time…” 

All eyes turn to you and, your grandfather attempts to placate you, patting your arm gently, “Y/N, it’s ok, please, I’m willing to make the journey if it means our people may finally have peace. I will leave at first light…” 

Namjoon, Jungkook and, Jin share your concern and, Namjoon attempts to reason with his council members, “Y/N is right, he shouldn’t go alone, there is no reason for that…” 

“Yoongi is an unpredictable creature…he knows Mr. Y/L/N and, according to his story, has been quite useful in the past, if we send a search party after him, he may feel threatened.” 

You shake your head again, stepping front of your grandfather, as if to shield him from their judgement, your heart hammering in your chest, “Please, there has to be another way, he can wait for Yoongi near the Archway, he can_” 

“Y/N please...settle down.” Your grandfather admonishes gently and, you feel frustration heating your cheeks whilst a lump forms in your throat. 

“It’s settled then, Mr. Y/L/N will find out where this Min Yoongi dwells and, attempt to gain insight into our cursed land, we thank you for your bravery…” 

The gavel jolts the entirety of the room and, with that; your world comes crumbling down. 

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You’d be damned if the cowardly council-members sent your grandfather in the forest alone. No, if anyone was going to go, it would be you. You were willing to lay your life on the line to ensure your grandfather’s safety, he was all you had. After waiting until your village had fallen asleep, you packed yourself a small bag and, left. No looking back, you were capable of surviving; your grandfather had taught you all the necessary skills you would need.

The darkness of the forest however, proved to be much greater than you could have estimated and, half way into your journey, you began to grow increasingly uncomfortable. 

Something didn’t feel right. You felt like you were being watched or, worse, followed. The hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. The lump in your throat continued to grow as you focused all your attention on the path in front of you. You had found a crudely drawn map done by your grandfather that supposedly lead to Yoongi’s cottage and, had taken it when you left hastily in the middle of the night.  

Halfway there. 

A crack sounded behind you. It was subtle but, distinct, sounding very much like the splitting of wood. A step, perhaps. Your heart threw itself continuously against your sternum over and over, louder and louder until you felt your head pounding. You adjusted the bag on your shoulder, your feet picking up subtly underneath you, your eyes zeroing toward your intended direction. 

Suddenly, the rustling of leaves could be heard behind you along with the familiar crack you had heard moments ago. The noise causes your head to whip around in its direction only to be met with the familiar, haunting scene of the forest. 

It’s an animal. Stop being so paranoid. 

The wind had been twirling through the trees for quite some time but, at this moment it began to pick up its dance, causing the trees to ache and groan around you. The chill creeps its way through the thin material of your sweater as your arms curl into your chest, desperately trying to keep warm. You shouldn’t be here. You knew what it meant by making the journey into this part of your world and, you felt foolish that you had ignored the warnings of your people. 

Just focus, don’t lose sight of what’s in front of you. 

The sounds of the forest began to grow around you, like a sinister symphony, the pitch rising higher and higher as you were drawn deeper into its music. You carefully tug the hood of your sweater over your ears, which you were surprised hadn’t succumbed to frost bite. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a movement that stops you in your tracks. Blackness is rising from the forest ground, morphing and twisting into a shape that is twice your height, and half your width. A figure stands still momentarily, long arms like tree branches extending from its body as it seems to regard you from across the forest. All of the blood from your face drains; your heart halts its assault against your sternum as you stand, frozen in horror. 

Your hand moves slowly towards your bag, attempting to retrieve your dagger. Eyes squinted, you keep an eye on the figure, trying to understand its form:  Diamond-shaped body, upright with long spindly legs and arms to match, faceless until you catch a glimpse of something that makes your stomach turn. Insidious and arrogant, the figures blank face splits into a wide, toothy grin, the entirety of it nearly reaching either side of its head. 

Before you can take your next breath, the figure breaks out into a run, smiling all the while as it races toward you. You fall back, hands desperately trying to rip open your pack, frantically trying to defend yourself. Tears sting your eyes as the terror of your situation overwhelms you, you get ahold of the dagger, handing shaking as you hold it in front of you. The attempt is pointless and, you know it. Whatever this is, isn’t human and, it’s intentions were quite clear. You felt frozen, helpless, you screamed out in desperation but, to no avail. 

You were going to die. 

A flash of brilliant violet light illuminates the forest, blinding you momentarily, your hand coming up to shield your eyes. Everything happens so quickly, the creature that was pursuing you lets out a strangled scream when a wave of energy pulses through the forest. It’s powerful and knocks you completely on your back, haziness beginning to creep into your vision. Dazed, you lay on the forest floor as your eyes grow heavier and heavier, sensations of pain moving throughout your body. You hear a faint sound of leaves crunching as something seems to approach you. The darkness overtaking your vision prevents you from seeing anything beyond a figure, thankfully human, looming over you. 

“Foolish human, what on earth have you done?” 

With that, everything goes black. 

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  The sound of bubbling is the first thing that teases your conscience back to life. As to the source of the sound, you’re still unsure but, it’s not the worst way you’ve ever been woken up. 

Wait…woken up. 

Are you waking up? 

Did you die? 

You don’t remember falling asleep the night before and, you’re beginning to grow restless behind the darkness of your eyelids.  

There is a faint sensation of pain winding around one of your feet and, you feel a very uncomfortable stinging across the right side of your ribs.  

“After all this time, humans are still insufferable creatures Meow, the only species who has managed to stall the evolutionary cycle…such a shame.”  

The voice is unfamiliar, crisp and condescending, it frightens you. 

“Human, your sleep cycle concluded 27 minutes ago…it’s time to wake up…” 

Human? Why is the voice referring to you as human… 

Your eyes pop open, a warm yellow light greets you along with a myriad of other images that you’re too disorientated to discern.  

The surface beneath you is a soft cotton fabric, looking very similar to a cot and, you finally gather that you’re in some sort of cottage. There is a figure standing behind a counter watching you, however you can’t yet make out the specifics of it. 

With your vision slightly blurred you attempt to rise from your horizontal position but, the searing pain in your ribs keeps you from doing so.  

“The venom has yet to take hold of your ribs so, I would advise against sudden movements for the next 17 minutes…” 

Your heart drops, “V..venom? What venom? What did you do to me?” 

The figure scoffs, “I saved your life…” 

The blur in vision begins to lessen and, after a few strong blinks you start to make out the image of the figure behind the counter.  

It was a man. Dressed in a black peasant blouse, his hands are braced against the counter; dark, almost feline eyes regard you earnestly from across the room, a scowl prominent in his features. He wasn’t difficult to look at but, the context of the current situation was preventing you from fully appreciating just how beautiful he was.  

“You saved my life by injecting me with venom? That seems rather counterproductive...” You bite back, nervousness hidden behind your tone as you awkwardly attempt to turn towards him.  

The movements prove to mildly successful as you finally prop yourself up on the side of your ribs that aren’t marred by discomfort.  

“The specifics of the procedure are irrelevant, although I didn’t inject you with anything...” The man corrects, rolling his eyes as he does, as if your statement was ridiculous. 

You’re frustrated with your lack of clarity and, you can’t help the budding panic, forming at the bottom of your throat. 

“Where am I?”  

“Somewhere you’re not meant to be...” He quips, annoyance coloring his pointy features as he scans your face, “your loss of memory isn’t surprising due to your injuries and, the impact from my spell...” He sighs as your confusion doesn’t seem to wane, slowly moving to step around to the front of the counter, “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

A deep breath is drawn through your nose as you frantically search your brain for answers. You remember entering the woods, the trees, the darkness, the fear... 

Oh god. 

You gasp then, eyes darting towards the stranger who was currently scooping, what looked like syrup into a turquoise bowl, “the creature...the smile, it...attacked me.” 

The man snorts, shaking his head, “If it had attacked you, you would be dead right now...” 

“I’m not entirely sure that I’m not...” You counter, wiping a hand over your face. 

You take in more of your surroundings as the fog in your mind begins to lift. A large, shelved apothecary cabinet took up the entirety of wall opposite you. Clear blue bottles of varying sizes lined the shelves, along with a potted plants that seemed to be overflowing down the length of the cabinet. The walls were made of grey and black stone and, stretched into a tall ceiling that seemed to be entirely covered in greenery. The counter the man worked at was littered with evidence of what had happened the night before: various herbs and tonics were uncapped and, a clump of bloody gauze was hanging out of the sink. To your left, another wall, paired with an archway and hundreds of books, led to what you presumed was the rest of the cottage.  

“Maybe this will jog your memory...” The man nearly hisses his declaration, seemingly threatened by your curious gaze. He held up a scrap of paper and, although you had to squint to read it, you could distinctly see that it was your grandfather’s crudely drawn map to Yoongi’s cottage. 

Oh…

“Yoongi?” You venture, feeling slightly threatened yourself. 

Yoongi’s feline like eyes, dark and almost menacing, glare at you from across the room. 

“You are a foolish girl, entering the forest past sundown, journeying into its depths...to find me. Have I not made it clear to your people that I am to be left alone?” Yoongi’s tone grows more and more frustrated and, you could sense what your grandfather meant by his lingering darkness. The wild mass of black hair on his head, his sharp features, his eyes look incredibly dark and, there seem to something peeking out from underneath his top lip, something you hadn’t noticed, they looked like fangs?  

“I’m...I’m sorry…listen, please, I didn’t want to disturb you but, a young boy disappeared from my village and, my people, they...tried to send my grandfather to find you, you’re the only one who can withstand the forest.” You’re not much for groveling but, there’s a pretty sizeable chance that Yoongi isn’t human and, you aren’t trying to press your luck.

His hardened gaze falters slightly, “You went in his place?” 

You nod, wishing desperately that you were able to sit up fully, awkwardly shifting your weight to the side again, “He wouldn’t have made it...they insisted on sending him alone...” 

“And you wouldn’t have made it either, you’re lucky I was out making my deliveries, or you would be enduring a slow, agonizing death...” He admonishes before, he turns to make his way over to you. You tense then, shrinking back into the cot, he notices your hesitation and scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have left you to the creatures...I need to treat your wound, my venom will only heal the superficial cut, and it won’t prevent infection…” His irritation lessens, likely sensing your fear before nodding to your sweater.

My venom?

You hesitate for a moment. There is no reason to trust Yoongi, he is a stranger who, so far, hasn’t been very kind to you however, he did save your life and, you suppose that’s enough to trust him…for now.

A sigh leaves your nose as you move to lift up the white wool which, you could now see was decorated with splotches of your blood.

Yoongi kneels down beside you, collecting the sticky golden substance on the tips of his fingers and, slowly spreading it across the surface of your wound. His movements were surprisingly gently and, for some unknown reason, goosebumps erupted across the back of your arms.

“What happened to my ribs anyway? I only remember falling backwards….”

Yoongi is careful to avoid eye contact with you as his fingers work the honey over your skin, ignoring his own chaotic thoughts.

“The method I used for killing that creature…some of the material hit you and, cut your skin…” He keeps his answer as vague as possible, hurrying with his application before laying down another piece of gauze over the wound.

Your brow furrows, eyes flitting to his fingers, “What method did you use?”

Yoongi sighs, his jaw tightening slightly, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, I came here for answers …” You retort, feeling frustrated by the lack of information he was willing to give.

Yoongi’s eyes darken with annoyance once again, pulling away from you as he finishes up, his expression hardening, “You are not entitled to answers. I saved your life; I don’t believe I owe you or your people anything else…”

His words perturb you and, you have to fight the urge to confront him as anger begins to bubble up inside of you.

“Yoongi, my people are growing restless, this is the 8th disappearance in two years…they won’t stop until they find answers…it’s what lures them back into the forest. “ You plead with him as he turns his back to you, beginning to clean up his work station, screwing the cap onto his bottle of honey.

“Your people have been warned on countless occasions, if they refuse to listen then, that’s not my burden to bear.” Yoongi insists, shrugging his shoulders as he places a few bottles back onto his massive shelf, “I advise you to stay here for a few days to allow for your body to heal but, after that you will be returning to your village. Until then, I ask that you leave me alone unless, you are in need of something…”

Your irritation with him increases as his brash responses continue, “I have to stay here for a few because of a cut?”

Yoongi turns back to you momentarily, “Your foot is injured as well but, if you think you can make the journey back yourself, by all means, be my guest…”

Looking towards your foot, you wiggle your toes, feeling a slight sensation of pain as you do.

“What happened to my foot?”

“You tore your anterior talofibular ligament…it happened when you fell.” His back is to you again as he arranges the bottles in a neater fashion, his tone one of disinterest.

“My anteater tylo what?” You press, shaking your head at his behavior.

He snorts at your pronunciation, a slight smirk threatening his mouth, “Your anterior talofibular ligament is a flat triangular band of fibers, that extends obliquely downward and lateralward between the adjacent margins of the tibia and fibula, on the front aspect of the syndesmosis…”

Your mouth hangs open as he delivers his explanation, frantically looking toward your foot in an attempt to make sense of what he was saying.

“That was wildly unhelpful…”

Yoongi turns back toward you, his sharp features unimpressed by your response.

“My healing of such a ligament should be considered more than helpful…”

“Am I able to walk with this injury?” You inquire, brows rising, mirroring his unamused expression.

He shrugs, “With minor discomfort, yes…”

A hand comes up with your question as Yoongi leans against the countertop, “…then why can’t I leave?”

“You are free to do as you wish however, if you leave now, you will die.” He explains, far too casually given the content of his sentence.

The sunlight shining through the window makes his statement even more perplexing and, you gesture to it as you respond, “What why? It’s the middle of the day?”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up, a smirk still threatening his mouth as he notices the irritation in your tone.

“Death can occur regardless of the time of day.”

You huff, eyes rolling in incredulity, still fighting the urge to raise your voice, “…yes I’m aware of how death works but, I thought your little light show got rid of that thing.”

“Sonum Aquarum.” He corrects you immediately as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?”

“It’s not a light show, it’s an aqueous blast of energy and, it requires hundreds of years of training. Also…” He stretches slightly, face turned up with arrogance and, you try to ignore the way his peasant blouse opens up to expose the pale skin of his chest. “…my blast killed that one creature. It did not eradicate their species. There are still thousands of them and, you are more vulnerable than you were last night, there would be no chance of you making it to the border before sundown and, I refuse to tell you the way back until, I’m sure that you’re ready.”

A defeated sigh leaves your lips then, realizing that until Yoongi was willing to take you back, you were stuck with him. The rumors made sense now, he was insufferable.

“Fine.” You surrender, trying to make yourself comfy on the cot, feeling capable of sitting up now that the pain in your ribs had subsided slightly.

Yoongi smirks then, feeling victorious that you had finally halted your questioning.

“You can make yourself comfortable down here. I will prepare meals for you twice a day but, there are fruits and vegetables in the garden should you get hungry, I can show you later. The bathroom is through this archway,” He gestures to the archway beside you that was filled with books, “and around the corner. My bedroom is upstairs; you are not permitted up there under any circumstances. I will be out during a few evenings to…”

He pauses then, cat eyes darting from side to side as he searches for the right word.

You smirk, raising your brows, “To?”

He rolls his eyes at your smirk, looking slightly uncomfortable as he continues, “Nevermind, don’t worry about it, just stay downstairs while you’re here and, touch as little as you can, I don’t want you messing things up…”

“Understood. I’ll stay out of your way…”

He eyes you suspiciously, desiring to question why you weren’t trying to argue but, he decides to drop it as he nods to the archway again, “There is a place for you to sleep through here, there is a fire burning most nights so, please be careful not to fall inside.”

“Is roasted human not your thing?” You quip, leaning back against the wall, already dreading the thought of being trapped in Yoongi’s presence.

There is something dark that flashes over his face for a moment and, for the first time since you spoke with him, you felt yourself growing slightly afraid of him. He smirks as he tilts his head slightly to the right and, when he does; you confirm that he possesses a pair of fangs.

“Human meat is too tough with very little pay off, I prefer the taste of their soul, it’s much sweeter…”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your lips pursing in an attempt to hide your obvious reaction to him. However, he can already pick up on the increase in your heartrate and, the change in your body’s chemistry, the knowledge pleases him. 

“You’re a demon then? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” You challenge him, not wanting to display any signs of weakness. 

“You asked me a question and, I responded. Now,” He averts his gaze, a satisfied smirk still lingering on his mouth as he looks up towards the ceiling, “…entertaining you has been thoroughly exhausting so, I’ll be retiring to my room for the day, there’s a plate of food in the other room, eat it..”

You roll your eyes, feeling extremely frustrated with his attitude but, the last few moments of conversation have advised you against testing Yoongi’s patience, for the time being at least.

“Sweet dreams.” You force a fake smile onto your face, something Yoongi can clearly sense, his face turning up in disgust.

“Mm.” He hums, unimpressed by your comment before, turning to head out of the apothecary, “…don’t touch anything.”

You shoot a thumbs up his way, wincing slightly as dull pain radiates in your ribs, still sporting your fake smile.

He rolls his eyes for the thousandth time before striding out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Don’t touch anything…” You mutter to yourself, bitterness prominent in your tone.

“What’s that?” Yoongi calls from the other room, his voice halfway up the staircase.

How the hell did he hear you?

“I’m just committing your orders to memory your majesty…” You call back, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Well, do it quietly then…” You can hear the bite in his voice but, given that he is in the other

room; you miss the smirk plastered on his face.

You roll your eyes, leaning against the stone wall, wishing desperately that you were home in your bed, listening to the sounds of your grandfather tinkering in your back garden.

A pang of worry rushes through you; your village likely thinks that you’re gone: taken by the forest, never to be seen again. You shudder at the thought, pleading with the powers that be that none of them come looking for you.

There were a million questions running around your head at the moment. Yoongi wasn’t much help in explaining what had happened to you but, there were two things you knew for sure:

1. There was something evil in the forest, something real and tangible

2. Yoongi wasn’t human.

An uneasy feeling asserts itself into your stomach… 

He said quite a few things that unnerved you: the bit about his venom, the mention of eating human meat, and liking the taste of human souls? Was he just messing with you? Was he serious? Should you wait long enough to find out? 

He did save your life. Why would he save your life if he was planning on harming you? 

Unless, well, he was planning on eating you? 

Fuck...what if he was planning on eating you? 

A shiver runs through your spine and, while the fantastical side of your brain really wants to run with the idea that Yoongi is some sort of monster, the logical side reminds you that not only did he save your life but, he saved your grandfather’s as well. You didn't like the idea of placing your fate into a stranger but, right now, that was your only option.  

With an audible sigh, you decide to hoist yourself up, carefully, because you’re still very sore. You scan the wall full of bookshelves, your brain going fuzzy as it catches a glimpse of a few of the titles, some you recognize but, some appear to be in various other languages. There were so many of them adorning the shelves, you couldn’t imagine anyone finishing all of the titles in their lifetime. Yoongi was known to be solitary however so, maybe all of his free time was divided evenly amongst healing, reading and, being creepy.  

Makes sense.  

Yoongi’s den is quaint and, if you were under different circumstances, you might actually think it was cozy. A sizeable, black, L-shaped sofa takes up most of the space in front of the massive and somewhat intimidating fireplace. Yoongi was right to warn you about falling in, the gray cobblestone structure stretches a third of the way up the extremely high ceiling, the crackling fire doing its job as it warms the entirety of the room. There are very few decorations apart from side tables positioned at either end of the couch both of which are carved from marble. There is a crème colored woven blanket thrown over the sofa as well as a few pieces of art that looked both expensive and imported. You wonder briefly about how Yoongi manages to afford marble and, expensive artwork but, given that he is likely a DEMON you decide that it’s not all that strange.  

You meander around the sofa, taking small careful steps to avoid causing yourself any pain. There is a cozy spot in the corner of the couch that’s calling your name and, although you’re quite sure that you slept a few hours through the night, you could feel your lids growing heavy once more.

The last 24 hours had been exhausting.  

Pulling the throw blanket off of the corner of the sofa, you snuggle against the plush cushions beneath you.  

Demon or not, the man had great taste in furniture.  

It doesn’t take long for the exhaustion to take over and, before you know it, you’re drifting off into a deep sleep.  

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

  “Meow, move out of my way, I’m going whether you like it or not. Your boredom is not my problem…”  The rasp of Yoongi’s voice is simmering just above your consciousness and, you feel yourself being slowly drawn out of your nap. 

As your eyelids flutter open, vision still hazy from your slumber, you panic slightly as you realize the room is pitch black. 

“Y…Yoongi? Is that you?” The voice that leaves your mouth is shaky and thick, your vocal chords clearly not ready for speaking yet. 

A deep sigh as let out from the figure in question before you hear the sound of snapping. At the conclusion of the sound, the entirety of the room is light up with a least 4 dozen candles lining every bit of free space in Yoongi’s den. 

You spot him near the door of his cottage, dressed in a black hooded cloak, an unamused expression on his face. 

“Obviously it’s me, who else would it be? Why are you awake?” He grumbles, black hair sticking up in all different directions. 

“Wait…how did you?” You whip your head around, amazement obvious in your features, “How did you do that?” 

He rolls his eyes, ignoring your question, “Why are you awake?”  You sit up, wincing slightly at the dull ache all over your body, his words causing your irritation to flare up, “Your voice woke me up and, I took a nap in the middle of the day, how long did you expect me to sleep for?” 

Yoongi’s face turns up, a mixture of shock and, amazement painting his cat-like features, his brows knitted together in scrutiny, “What do you mean, my voice woke you up?” 

“I heard you talking to your cat,” You explain, matter of factly, adjusting the sleeves of your sweater, wishing desperately that you had a different change of clothes, “Or I assumed it was your cat, unless someone else is here…” 

Yoongi’s pale face turns practically translucent, he rushes over to the arm of the couch, peering at you curiously, “I wasn’t…how did you hear me? Who are you? Did someone send you here?” 

Yoongi’s sudden interrogation alarms you and, it causes you shrink away from him slightly, “What? No? I told you why I was here, no one sent me…why are you freaking out?” 

Yoongi’s mouth opens and then closes it, his brain currently in full panic mode. In the midst of his crisis, a fairly sizeable black cat jumps effortlessly onto the arm of the couch. It perches in front of Yoongi, wide golden eyes boring into your very soul, an almost knowing look in its gaze.  

An uneasy feeling stirs in your stomach as you stare back into the cat’s eyes but, you point it out none the less, trying to ease Yoongi’s sudden nervousness, “This is your cat right? I heard you talking to them this morning too, it’s not a big deal, I’m a really light sleeper, I wake up at the drop of a pin…”  

Your words only increase his panic and, his wide eyes glance towards the cat and, then back at you, his body language stiffening, “You…you can see him?”  

You can’t help the laugh that comes from your mouth, “The giant cat sitting in front of you? Of course I can see him, are you feeling ok? Do you need a nap or something?”  

The cat’s eyes seem to glisten with amusement but, you do your best to avoid it’s gaze, something about it or him, as Yoongi had mentioned, was slightly off.  

“Who are you?” There’s acid dripping from his tone and, it frightens you, so much so that, you scoot further into the sofa cushions, your hands coming up in defense. 

“I’m Y/N? Do you not remember me? We spoke this morning? You saved my life?” You venture, the perplexity of the situation increasing your heartbeat. 

“I’m not suffering from memory loss human…tell me who you really are…”  

You hadn’t been close enough to him to really notice the color of his eyes but, you’re fairly certain that if they were as black as they are now, you would have noticed. 

Before Yoongi can speak again, his cat lets out a menacing hiss, its golden eyes narrowed in aggression. You flinch at the sound before you realize that the hiss wasn’t directed towards you, it was directed towards Yoongi.  

His eyes widen at the sound and he steps back, “What? Don’t give me that look, she’s obviously not who she says she is…” 

He’s talking to the cat as if the cat had the ability to understand him and, you wait on bated breath as Meow seems to stare intently into Yoongi’s eyes.  

A wordless exchange is all that’s needed before Yoongi relaxes slightly, his cool demeanor returning once more.  

You’re confusion however, has yet to wane. 

“Yoongi, I’m not here to hurt you, everything I told you is true.” You attempt to find his gaze but, he avoids looking at you, his eyes still black but, fading to a much softer brown, “Might I remind you that, the only reason I’m still here is because, you refuse to tell me the way back….” 

At that Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I’m not refusing because, I enjoy your company human, quite the opposite actually, I’m refusing because, you won’t be able to reach the border until you’re healthy, I think you underestimate how far away from home you are…” 

His words are paired with a snide expression, his eyes flitting in your direction. The information sends uneasiness into your stomach but, you have no choice but to take his word. 

 You won’t be facing the forest alone again. 

“How far are we exactly?  

He smirks, “Far…” 

His response frustrates you beyond belief: WHY WAS HE SO VAGUE? 

A groan leaves your lips as you slump back into the sofa, “Are you ever going to answer my questions properly? I don’t know how you expect me to feel comfortable here if you refuse to tell me anything…” 

Yoongi shrugs, “I don’t expect you to feel anything human, your feelings are not important to me…” 

This offends you, of course it does but, you’re don’t have time to get your feelings hurt. You want answers. 

“My feelings aren’t important but, my life is?” You press, brows knitted in displeasure 

Yoongi ponders this for a moment, pursing his lips and, nodding, “That’s a fair conclusion…are we done now? I have somewhere I need to be.” 

With a defeated sigh, you push yourself off of the sofa, stumbling slightly as you do, “Whatever.” 

You brush past him, ignoring the way he smells: (like fresh pine and, lavender) and, your movement causes him to flinch but, you don’t notice.  

Yoongi smirks again, pleased with your defeat, “Where are you going?” 

“Oh, you know, a place…”  

Yoongi’s smirk grows, feeding off of your annoyance, “You are permitted to look around downstairs but, I would advise you to keep clear of the leeches, they’re very eager, particularly when your blood is sweet…” 

A shiver runs down your spine and, you whip towards him, “Leeches? What are you talking about?” 

Yoongi has already disappeared through the doorway and, if you aren’t mistaken, you could swear you hear him chuckling as he does. 

Disgusting.  

The night ended up dragging on for quite some time. You busied yourself with looking through Yoongi’s collection of books, well trying to at least; the man has a least 8 billion of them. After the 12th or 13th you ended up falling asleep against the shelves in the apothecary room and, you’re pretty sure you had 4 or 5 nightmares involving leeches. 

Thanks to Yoongi… 

He had been out all night, doing god knows what and, didn’t return until sunrise.  

He walks into the door, sore and defeated, shrugging his cloak off and, placing it onto the rack beside his door. His brow is furrowed as he looks around for you, feeling slightly uneasy as he scans the cottage. 

“Human?” He calls out, trying to sense you, hoping that you hadn’t run off. 

Most people do… 

He rounds the corner into his apothecary before, his eyes narrow at his “cat” who is sleeping soundly in your lap.  

Leaning against the wall, he smirks down at your sleeping expression, lips pouted, brow furrowed slightly, (kind of cute). Meow wakes up then, sensing his presence, yawning and extending his chubby black paws, golden eyes peering up at Yoongi. 

“Don’t look at me like that…” He mutters before knocking his knuckles on the wall, “Human, it’s time to wake up, you must eat…”  

The sound startles you awake, your eyes popping open, bleary and confused. With a still furrowed brow, you look up towards Yoongi, unamused by his actions. 

“You could have chosen a nicer way to wake me up…” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “This is my home, not a bed and breakfast and, you were meant to be asleep in the den. Sleeping in such a position is going to prolong your healing process…” 

Upon rubbing your eyes, you notice that Yoongi’s cat is resting comfortably in your lap and, rather than bickering with Yoongi, you smile softly, fingers stroking against the cat’s obsidian fur. 

“Sorry…I fell asleep reading…” You are distracted by the creature in your lap, who is now purring and, nudging your hand, trying to garner more of your attention. “You cat is really cute…” 

Yoongi feels uneasy as he watches you interact with Meow, his confusion at an all-time high, “He’s not a cat,” He grumbles before extending a hand to you, “Come, you need to eat…” 

You’re perplexed by his response and, regard his hand warily, “What do you mean, he’s not a cat? Do you call him something different?” 

Yoongi ignores your question and, merely jerks his hand towards you again, “It’s been 15 hours since you’ve eaten your last meal…we don’t have time for questions…” 

You look up at him, grimacing at his outstretched hand before, a thought pops into your head, “If I eat, will you answer one question??” 

Yoongi’s mouth twitches, fighting a smile at your ridiculous request, “What do you mean IF you eat? You have to eat to survive so_” He cuts himself off, face wrinkled in confusion, “I don’t negotiate with mortals, now let’s go, I have things to do…” 

You’re whining at this point, your curiosity rising to an agonizing level, “Yoongi, please? I don’t know where I am, or who you are and, you keep calling me mortal or human, and, you talked about consuming my soul and, apparently there’s leeches in your house?? I was almost killed by a monster in the forest, my village probably thinks I’m dead and, I’m going to go insane if you don’t tell me SOMETHING…” You can feel the tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes and, Yoongi looks as though he’s cringing in discomfort. You aren’t sure if your mini tantrum is just annoying or if he can actually sense your pain but, either way, he sighs, peeved that your emotions are even affecting him the first place. 

“Ok, fine, I’ll answer a few questions,” At his words, you perk up and he jerks his hand towards you again with a pointed look, “AFTER you eat.”  

“Eat? No problem, I’ll eat as much as you want…” You rejoice, a smile on your face as you take his hand, using it to rise to your feet. Meow scurries off of your lap as you do so, standing beside Yoongi, regarding you with a wise gaze. 

“Follow me…” He commands, leaving the room, insuring that he doesn’t move to quickly. 

Yoongi leads you through the den and, out through the backdoor. You’re expecting to feel the cool crisp air of the morning but, instead you enter another room, entirely enclosed by glass windows. Sunlight streams through the trees and, cast leaf-shaped shadows on marble countertops. The room is beautiful and, like the other parts of Yoongi’s cottage, the perimeter of the room is also covered in greenery. It seemed to grow out of the walls.  

“Sit…” He nods to the stool in front of the counter, before stepping around it and, retrieving a few things from his ice box. 

You don’t comment about his bossiness, although at some point, you definitely plan on mentioning it. You’re not a fan of being told what to do but, you decide that the nicer you are to Yoongi, the more he will be willing to tell you. 

“Your cottage is beautiful…” You murmur softly, eyes scanning the ceiling once again, feeling very much like you are in some sort of fairy tale. 

Yoongi is getting to work on some sort of pastry, long, nimble fingers beginning to kneed and, stretch at some dough. He doesn’t look up from his current task but, you can see his lips twitch again, “Flattery will get you nowhere with me human…” 

At this you roll your eyes, propping your chin against your hand, “I’m being serious. I’ve never seen anything like this before; we don’t have plants growing out of our ceilings back in the village…” 

“Eat…” He commands, pushing a plate towards you, complete with some sort of puff pastry along with freshly cut berries and, a dusting of powdered sugar. 

How the… 

“Wait, how did you_”  

He cuts you off, brows rising to challenge you, “Are you going back on our agreement?”  

“N-No I just…” You defend, completely bewildered at how quickly he just made your breakfast 

“Then do as you promised. I will hear your questions after you’re finished…”  

His tone never leaves much room for discussion and, you have to consciously remind yourself not to retaliate.  

He is starting to infuriate you… 

You merely nod though, saving all your quips for later as you dig into the food he prepared. 

The breakfast is delicious and, you don’t realize how hungry you are until you take your first bite.  

“Where am I right now?” You ask as Yoongi dumps your dirty dishes in the sink, your burning curiosity becoming too much to handle. 

Yoongi sighs through his nose, wiping his hands on a linen towel before turning to you, “That’s a very complicated question…”   

He regards you with a sage gaze and, you note that despite him looking around your age, you couldn’t help but feel that he was centuries older than you. 

“I’m listening…” 

“Let me ask a question first…” He wages and as you begin to protest, he silences you with his raised hand, “It’s important…” 

“Fine…” 

“Who gave you the map?” He inquires, pulling the scrap of paper out of his pants pocket, which is odd considering you know for a fact that’s he’s changed clothes since yesterday morning.  

“My grandfather…he says he’s been here before…” You explain, eyeing the map between his fingers, “He says you saved his life…” 

At your second comment, Yoongi cocks his head, “Did he give you any further details?” 

“You still haven’t answered my question…” You point out, growing frustrated once again.  

He sighs, lowering his hand to place the map on the counter, his dark eyes flitting around the room, “My house cannot be found by just anyone, I have it hidden underneath a veil, a protection spell. If you’re grandfather found my cottage, it would be because he possessed certain…abilities.” 

Yoongi’s answer surprises you, your brow furrows, “What kind of abilities?” 

He shrugs, not looking directly at you, his fingers picking at the edges of the map, “It can be any number of things but, regardless, if he did in fact, find my cottage, he must have done so using a spell…” 

“Would the map have been useless to me then?” You press, your curiosity overflowing, the eagerness to ask another question hot on your tongue. 

Yoongi nods, a smirk playing on his lips, “This map is nonsense, if you would have continued to follow it, you would have ended up back in your village.”  You lean back, confusion painting your features, “What? That’s impossible, he was planning on following it himself to come and find you…” 

“Well, either your grandfather never found my cottage in the first place or,” He regards you with a satisfied expression, delighting in your confusion, “…he left out the wrong map.” 

It hits you then; your grandfather fooled you. He knew you wouldn’t sit idly by whilst he essentially walked to his death. He knew that you were just the right amount of stubborn to enter the forest in his place, he knew… 

“Bastard,” You curse him but, you have to admit, you’re hurt by this conclusion. Why would he knowingly lead you in the wrong direction? Why wouldn’t he stop you if he knew you were going in his place? “Why would he do that?” 

Yoongi’s smirk has grown significantly and, you’re starting to grow uneasy at the thought of Yoongi actually being evil.  

“What is your grandfather’s name?” 

A deep breath is pulled through your nose, “Y/GF/N…he said you saved him as a boy, when he almost drowned in the river. He told my village that he came back to find you, to thank you…” 

Yoongi seems to perk up at your response, “I remember him…clever boy.” 

The man before you looked as though he was your age but, given the fact that he knew your grandfather when he was just a child, something isn’t adding up. This leads you to your next question, “How old are you?” 

His mouth twitches, “It’s impolite to ask someone their age Y/N…” 

Your brows rise in defiance, your patience paper thin, “My grandfather is 71, you should have aged significantly since then but, you haven’t, you look as though your my age.” A pointed look is sent his way, “You said you would answer my questions...” 

Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness, fangs peeking out from under his top lip, his eyes darkening as they finally look into yours, “Seven hundred and twenty seven…” 

Your eyes widen your heart dropping into your stomach as you try to respond calmly, “So, you’re a vampire?” 

Yoongi snorts, face wrinkled in disgust, “Heavens no. Vampires are awful creatures, dreadfully unrefined…” 

“Then, what are you?”  

A scowl is beginning to make its way onto Yoongi’s face as he is beginning to grow irritated by your tone, “I am beyond your scope of understanding…human.” 

He spits the last word, as if it’s meant to insult you and, you can sense the tension in the room. You know you have to dial it back if you want answers so you nod, conceding with his answer. 

“Fair enough. What attacked me in the forest?” 

He seems to relax slightly at your change in subject, “The creatures in the forest, the ones that are responsible for the disappearances of your people…they are the remains of an unaligned spell gone wrong. They feed off of organic energy and, slowly drain the life of their victims. Humans are their primary prey but, they feed off of larger animals as well…when the pickings are slim.” 

You rest your chin on your hand, intrigued, “How powerful are they?” 

“They are powerful enough to compel your people into the forest but, they don’t stand a chance against light, whether that be sunlight or aligned magic…” 

“Aligned magic?” 

“Magic that aligns with basic morals, magic that doesn’t seek to harm others or exploit the natural order of the world…” Yoongi explains, the timbre in his voice almost soothing as he continues, “The creatures are known as The Nahbbun, or the vicious but, they have been called many names over the course of history…” 

“Do they exist outside of our forest?”  

He shakes his head, “Not in this magnitude. A tainted space may contain a few of them but, this forest in particular, contains thousands of them…” 

A shiver runs down your spine then but, you can’t help your desire to learn more, “Because of the spell that was performed here?” 

He nods sagely, “The person responsible was exceedingly powerful; this level of darkness cannot be contained…” 

Attempting to take in all of the new information, you pause for a moment, collecting your thoughts. You notice that Yoongi looks, almost, defeated, as if the information he shared burdened him somehow. 

“What happened to the others? My people have never returned once they are lost.” You shift your tone to a gentler one, trying to ease into touchier subjects. 

Yoongi stiffens, “Your people are typically conjured away from my cottage and, I can only sense them if they breach my perimeter. Even if I have managed to intervene, they often slip out in the middle of the night…there have been very few I have been able to save…” 

“You saved me…” You point, eyes much softer as you sense his genuine regret. 

“Yes, well,” He coughs, looking away from you momentarily, “I suppose I did…that is unless you plan on sneaking out in the middle of the night.” 

Smiling, you reach out towards him and, resist the urge to giggle as he flinches slightly, “Thank you…for saving me and, for saving my grandfather all those years ago.” 

His expression shifts again and, if you’re not mistaken, you can see a bit of softness in his eyes but, he quickly composes himself as he waves you off, “Has your curiosity been sated for now? You have kept me held up for quite some time…” 

It’s only been ten minutes or so since this conversation began but, you don’t want to risk Yoongi shutting you off all together so you nod and offer one last sentiment, “I wouldn’t have come here…if I didn’t think it was my only option. I’m sorry for all the trouble…” 

A smile threatens Yoongi’s mouth, “You’re the least of my burdens human, don’t worry yourself on my behalf. Focus on healing so, you may return home, I can imagine your grandfather is very worried…” 

You nod, making your way off of the stool, “Thank you for breakfast…” 

He nods back at you, his lips pursed in an odd sort of smile, “I’ll prepare dinner for you at sunset…” 

You smirk to yourself as you head out of the kitchen, “Sounds romantic…” 

At your comment, Yoongi rolls his eyes, a minor sense of dread overcoming him as he feels his cheeks heating up at your comment “Don’t be ridiculous…” 

He hears your giggle right before the door swings shut behind you and, he does his best to ignore the way the sound warms his heart. 

“Humans are dreadful…” He grumbles to himself as he attempts to soothe the redness of his cheeks. At his comment, Meow, who had been listening in, meows at his feet, gold eyes looking up at him knowingly. 

“Quiet…” He hushes down at him before heading out of the kitchen and, quickly making his way upstairs to his room. 

Yoongi leaves the cottage that night after you fall asleep. The two of you had a relatively pleasant dinner which consisted of an exquisite plate of pasta Yoongi made, or uh, conjured from scratch and, cinnamon teacake for dessert. The conversation was scarce as Yoongi really doesn’t enjoy talking but, he responded when necessary and, kept his sarcastic comments to a minimum. 

Which is honestly all you can ask for.  

The evening ended as soon as it began as Yoongi was very eager to get you to fall asleep so, he could do whatever it was that he did after the sun set. However, you had yet to sleep a full night in Yoongi’s house.

Something always seems to wake you in the middle of the night. 

You are currently huddled up on his sofa bed underneath a thick woolen blanket when you hear the faint sound of meowing that seemed to be coming from above you. Yoongi’s cat is clearly not pleased with the fact that he’s disappeared.  

The cottage isn’t as inviting when you’re in it alone, in fact, the howling wind just outside of the walls, makes an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. The scraping of the tree branches against the cottage’s exterior startles you momentarily before, you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Meow continues uh meowing upstairs, the sound growing louder and louder. You’re beginning to wonder if something is wrong with him.  

Maybe Yoongi forgot to feed him?  

Another howl from the top of the stairs sends you stumbling off of the sofa and towards the noise. The floorboards creak beneath you as you approach the seemingly never-ending spiral staircase.  

“Kitty? Are you ok?” You call your voice unstable. 

Silence. 

With a furrowed brow, you place a foot on the bottom step, your eyes squinting as they peer upwards into darkness, “Meow? Come here kitty…it’s ok, Yoongi will be home soon…” 

The silence is deafening and, you feel that familiar sinking feeling in your stomach. The wind beyond the cottage walls seems to halt as the hair on the back of your neck stands up.  

“You…uh you don’t have to be scared ok? I don’t want to hurt you…I just want to make sure you’re ok…” 

You hear it then, the sound that makes your blood run cold: an insidious almost childlike giggle sounds from the top of the stairs and, you step back immediately, feeling threatened by the sound.  

“Oh, little human…it’s not me who should be scared…” The angelic cadence of the voice contrasts against the clear threat in its words.  

You feel the need to run but, you’re frozen stiff with fear, “Wh-who’s there? Who are you?” 

Another burst of giggles echoes throughout the cottage and, you desperately wish that the floor would swallow you whole.  

“You know my name…” 

“I..I don’t know your name, I…” You pause then, realization washing over you, “Wait. Meow? Is that you?” 

The giggle you hear now is much less threatening but, the movement in the darkness still keeps you on guard, “Yoongi gave me that name out of spite. Personally, I would have chosen something much more endearing…” 

Your hand is placed on the bannister as you desperately try to spot him, “I don’t understand…aren’t you his cat? How are you able to speak?” 

Meow snickers, tickled by your lack of knowledge, “Don’t you remember Yoongi warning you that I wasn’t a cat. Silly human, you really should pay better attention…” 

You do remember Yoongi saying something of the sort but, you had dismissed it as him choosing to be difficult.  

“Then, what are you?” 

Footsteps echo at the top of the stairs, light and delicate, as if someone is tip-toeing their way towards you. It makes your heart pound in anticipation.  

A man appears halfway down the stairs, causing a gasp to leave your mouth. He’s roughly the same size as Yoongi, with the same raven-colored hair atop his head, except there is a bit of orange peeking through. He, like Yoongi, possesses a quality that you can’t quite pin point along with an otherworldly amount of beauty. His features are much softer however, his pink lips plump and turned up in a playful smirk, his eyes heavy with mischief, his body sporting a minimum amount of clothing.  

“I am beyond your scope of understanding human…” The man deepens his voice, clearly mimicking Yoongi’s words before he bursts into another fit of giggles, “What a ridiculous thing to say…” 

Your words seem to stop in the base of your throat, unable to comprehend what exactly is going on.  

“You’re…uh, you’re…” You’re truly making an attempt to speak but, nothing seems to be coming out. The man notices and takes pleasure in your flustered state, another giggle leaving his lips. 

“What’s the matter Y/N? Cat got your tongue?” He winks and, you swear you feel like you’re going to faint. 

You thought Yoongi had managed to balance being both beautiful and threatening but, this man seems to take the cake as far as duality is concerned.  

“If you’re not Yoongi’s cat, then who are you?”  

Meow cocks his head, the moonlight streaming in through the window illuminating his naked top half as his hand comes up to push his hair back. It’s almost as if he is intentionally trying to distract you.  

“I am…a friend of Yoongi’s…” He begins, turning his gaze towards yours as he slowly starts to descend down the staircase, “We’ve known each other for quite some time…” 

You step back, still on guard, already growing impatient with a lack of answers, “A friend of Yoongi’s, who just so happens to shape shift into a cat…” 

Another giggle, a few more steps, Meow is getting closer to you, “Mhm. You’re growing frustrated aren’t you? I can taste it…” 

“I’m growing tired of a lack of answers…” You counter, trying to hold your ground as he approaches you. 

Meow smirks, his pupils dilating to the point of vertical slits and, you can’t decide if he looks more like a cat or a snake.   

“Ooh she wants answers does she? You’re quite nosy Y/N…I like that about you.” His tone is shifting to a slightly more sultry tone as he leans against the bannister. “However…I don’t give away anything for free…answers come with a price.” 

You don’t back down and instead, stand up straighter, “Name your price then.” 

His cat like grin grows, his eyes scanning over you slowly, drinking you in, “It’s nothing major…just a taste…” 

“A taste of what…” 

Meow’s eyes darken, “Of you…” 

You back away, all of the alarms signaling in your body, preparing to run.  

The man before bursts into another round of giggling, his head falling back as he braces against the bannister, “I’m only kidding. Goodness, you’re so wound up, if Yoongi had any sense in him, he’d be requesting to heal you in other ways, to ease your tension. It’s certainly the route I would take…” 

A shaky breath leaves you as you glare at him, “What are you?” 

Meow’s laughter dies down, however, his smirk remains, “Your people have many names for me…”  

Your brows rise, conveying that you are searching for a concrete answer and, Meow concedes, turning to the side to reveal his bare ribs to you. Squinting, you can see that he has a several black marks adorning his skin. You don’t recognize the language but, just before you inquire about them, Meow speaks up again. 

“Siren…” He practically whispers the word, a delighted grin on his face, “Do you know the meaning of the word?” 

Siren.  

You’ve heard the term from many of the sailors who reside in your village, they told stories of beautiful women luring their men to the ocean with their song before, devouring them whole. It was easy to dismiss their stories as drunken banter so; you never paid too much attention. However, you nod at Meow’s question, “Yes, sailors from my village have told stories containing that word…you don’t exactly match their description.” 

Another twinkling giggle, “We take whatever form we need to…human men are the easiest targets.” 

“Is that…” You pause, biting your lip, “Is that why you’re here with Yoongi? To prey on him?” 

“Mm I wish. He would be a delicious meal,” Meow muses, “but no, I am bound to Yoongi until I have paid my karmic toll…” 

“Karmic toll? What do you mean? 

 “I was a very naughty boy when I was alive Y/N…” Meow giggles, biting his puffy bottom lip, “ and an accumulation of bad karma is keeping me from entering Paradise. My soul was assigned to Yoongi for…correction.” 

Your stomach sinks, “You’re dead? Wait, if you’re dead then how can I-“ 

He cuts you off, “Ah yes, Yoongi and I were wondering the same thing…it seems as though you possess ‘the sight’.”  

“The sight?” You breathe, growing rather eager as you finally receive some answers to your burning questions.   

“Yes, it is believed that there are a select group of humans who have inherited the ability to see things beyond their mortal world. It’s a rather uncommon occurrence; personally, I’ve never encountered a human who could see me in my true form.” Meow stretches his arms high above his head, not unlike a cat, making a small noise at the back of his throat.  

“Is this,” You gesture to him, “your true form?” 

He chuckles, nodding, a sense of pride washing over him, “It is, lucky me right? Although, I often take the form of what my prey desires the most. However, with you, my true form seems to align quite well with your desires…” 

Your cheeks grow hot at his comment, your heart rate increasing slightly, “Can you still harm me when you’re dead?” 

A wide grin presents himself on Meow’s mouth, “What makes you think I’d be interested in harming you?” 

“Well referring to me as prey is quite a big tell Meow, what else would you have me think?” 

The grin never falters as he steps towards you, hungry gaze drinking in the sight of you, “I only kill when I have to feed and, I only play with those who come willingly…I’m not completely deranged.” 

“You…eat people?”  

He snickers, “No, silly girl, I consume their soul…”  

His response doesn’t shock you but, as your brain connects his statement with a familiar statement from Yoongi, you begin to grow nervous. 

“I prefer the taste of their soul…it’s much sweeter…” 

You pull at the sleeves of your sweater in an attempt to comfort yourself, feeling rather faint, “Yoongi mentioned consuming human souls…is he a siren too?” 

Meow pouts his lips, “Hmph no, he’d be much less of a bore if he was…he is something else entirely. My people have no name for him but…” Meow trails off cat-like eyes scanning the perimeter of the room, as if he were afraid of someone overhearing him, “I can tell you this, he is one of the very few creatures we sirens fear and, if I were you, I would watch my neck around him…” 

Meow’s words strike fear into your heart but, before you can respond, the sound of a familiar voice sounds throughout the room. 

“Jimin!” Yoongi barks, his tone sharp and unrelenting with a glare to match. 

Jimin?  

Meow giggles before you before disappearing with a light thud, shifting back into his cat form and, scurrying up the staircase.  

“Vile creature! Have you learned nothing???” Yoongi shouts at the ceiling, fists clenching at his sides, anger radiating off of him. 

Meow or Jimin’s laughter echoes against the walls of Yoongi’s cottage and you shrink away from the volume of his voice.  

Yoongi’s glare flits over to you, scanning your figure, “Did he hurt you?”  

You shake your head, backing away from him, “No…he…” 

He cuts you off with a raise of his hand, irritation heavy in his voice, “What did I tell about proper sleep? What are you doing awake? The remedy I gave you should have been enough to keep you asleep until sunrise…” 

Why was he laying into you? You did nothing wrong, in fact, it’s you who should be laying into him, demanding answers yet again. 

“Well I’m sorry but, your demon cat woke me up….” You spit the words, feeling furious at all of the ambiguity, “And then, proceeded to tell me that he was dead and paying for his sins, that included CONSUMING HUMAN SOULS! WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM?” 

Yoongi stiffens at the tone of your voice, his anger at an all-time high, “Watch your tone mortal, I won’t be disrespected in my own home…” 

“Tell me who you are…” You seethe your fight or flight response clearly ready to do the former. 

Yoongi steps towards you, the power within him ebbing and flowing against his body, his black pupils slowly taking over the entirety of his eyes, “I don’t owe you an explanation…”  

You back away slightly but, stand your ground, eyes narrowed in his direction, “Jimin said you were something to fear, he said to watch my neck around you. You owe me enough to ensure that you aren’t going to kill me…” 

He smirks, his eyes entirely vacant of color, “Jimin was correct. I suggest you heed his warning.” 

Despite the raging tempo of your heartbeat, you puff your chest out, taking a step in Yoongi’s direction. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” 

Yoongi’s breath can be felt against your face, his lips, wet and almost lingering against yours, “Really? Then why is your heart sputtering in your chest hm? Why does your body tremble in my presence?” 

There is something stirring within the pit of your stomach that you don’t recognize but, your anger overshadows it. 

“What. Are. You?” You press again, ignoring his other questions.  

His eyes seem to glimmer momentarily, a color flashing across the surface, his sizeable hands bracing against the wall behind you, trapping your body. Yoongi leans in and, for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you but, his lips make a detour over to your ear instead. Your heart is practically in your throat and, the odd sensation grows stronger and stronger within you. Yoongi’s lips brush over the shell of your ear, whispering a language you don’t recognize, 

“Sleep now human, before your mouth gets you in trouble…” 

Darkness envelops you and your body goes limp, causing Yoongi’s arms to come out and catch you.  

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

“Human…” A low voice rumbles beside you, slowly pulling you from your unconscious state.  

You know the voice but, the fog in your brain can’t quite place it, the only thing you can feel is a dull throbbing your temples.  

“Y/N…”  

It was Yoongi. 

Your eyes pop open, immediately on guard, your hazy vision noting that Yoongi was sitting on the arm chair beside the sofa. 

A white blouse adorned his top half, the ties loosened, exposing his chest, his hair damp, suggesting that he had just bathed.  

You sit up slowly, back away from his figure, “What did you do to me?” 

He rolls his eyes, “I subdued you. You were getting out of control…” 

“You drugged me? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Yoongi scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips, “I didn’t use any drugs, don’t be ridiculous. You were being unreasonable; I merely helped you fall back asleep...” 

The frustration you’ve been feeling returns quickly but, the way Yoongi spoke to you, always dismissing you, made defeat spark in your heart.  

His brows rise, challenging you, “Are you going to behave now?” 

However, this comment ignites the fire within you once more and, your eyes shoot up to lock onto his. 

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” 

Yoongi can’t help but chuckle, your frustration beginning to amuse him. 

“No.” 

The fire is hotter now and, you have to resist the urge to reinstate your argument.  

“Then no,” You smirk, ensuring that the venom is present in your voice, “I’m not going to behave.” 

Yoongi feels something brewing in his body but, he does his best to ignore it. Although, there is something about the authority in your voice that gets to him.  

“You are peculiar you know that? Provoking me, disregarding my boundaries, do you not value your life at all?” He leans back against the back of the chair, dark eyes scanning your face.   

“I don’t value my life over another. Finding the truth could ensure the safety of my people…” You retort, the two of you locking eyes, palpable tension beginning to rise.   

“I’ve told you the truth human…” 

“You’ve told me part of the story,” You counter, nodding to him, your confidence growing slightly as Yoongi’s resolve tends to break. 

“Why are you so curious? The part that I told you is the only part that pertains to your people, the rest is-”  

He pauses, breathing out through his nose, breaking the gaze between the two of you. 

Emotion flutters in your heart, your eyes turning their attention towards the tree branches that brush against the window pane. 

“Yoongi…” Your voice is gentler now, trying to reason with him, “ …my parents died in this forest. They were explorers and, made it their life’s work to unlock its secrets. I don’t want their work to be in vain, please…maybe I can help you, maybe if more people knew the truth, we’d be able to stop the darkness...”   

As you revert your eyes back to his, you notice he’s sporting a disgusted expression, an expression that doesn’t reach his eyes.  

“You are naïve human, naïve and foolish. Just like your parents…” Yoongi’s words cut like knives, slicing through your exterior and, tearing you to pieces. “I have searched for centuries and, have yet to find a solution; you would be useless to me, knowing the rest of the story wouldn’t change that…” 

That’s it then.  

Your heart sinks, your face flushes and, the tightening in your throat is unbearable. 

Standing shakily to your feet, you sniffle, trying to keep the tears at bay before looking up at Yoongi, “Maybe you should have left me in the forest Yoongi, since I’m so useless…” 

He watches you rush out of the den, his chest aching at the sight of your sadness and, he suddenly regrets every word he said.

His defense was too strong this time, he took it too far. 

Yoongi’s words are caught in his throat as he ignores his desire to run after you and, he curses himself for being so hard-headed sometimes. “Wow Min that was harsh, even for you…” Jimin appears at the bottom of the stairs, smirking, his tongue licking over his pointy teeth.  

Yoongi sends a glare his way, “Do not refer to me so casually, Siren or I will ensure you never enter Paradise...”  

Jimin falters slightly but, presses him further, snickering quietly, “Apologies, my lord. I am merely confused; if you hate this human so much, why not consume her? I imagine her soul would be...divine...”   

Yoongi feels his blood boil over, “Because, unlike you, I’m not a degenerate...”   

Jimin chuckles darkly, stepping off the final step, “Why do you hate her so much? She is one of the better humans I’ve encountered…quite beautiful too…” 

Yoongi feels a pull in his stomach as he mentions your beauty, something about the way Jimin was speaking of you made him uncomfortable.  

Although Jimin, in general, often made him uncomfortable. 

“I don’t hate her…” Yoongi mutters, pushing himself off of the couch, wishing to retire to his room, alone. 

Jimin steps in front of him, mischief in his eyes, “You’re attracted to her aren’t you?” 

Another tug in Yoongi’s stomach puts him further on the defensive and, pushes past Jimin to get to the staircase. 

“Siren, I won’t tell you again…” Yoongi warns, venom in his tone, “…stay in line, or I will eternalize your sentence…” 

This threat does a number on Jimin’s desire to pester and, rather than risk feeling Yoongi’s wrath, he shuts his mouth and, disappears into a thin mist.  

As Yoongi reaches his chamber, he strips himself down to his undergarments and crawls under his duvet. He pulls the fabric completely over his head in a futile attempt to drown out his chaotic thinking, beyond frustrated with himself. 

He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, he knows that. 

He knows that Jimin, however infuriating, wasn’t completely wrong in his assumptions.  

You do…intrigue him. 

He knows that you have good intentions; he can sense your purity.  

He knows that you possess something you don’t quite understand; the fact that you could see Jimin proves that.  

He knows that you have a strong moral code, one that isn’t easily manipulated, despite his best efforts. 

He knows that you’re argumentative, impatient and, passionate. 

However, he doesn’t understand you completely; he doesn’t understand how you manage to rattle his carefully crafted resolve. 

He doesn’t understand why he wants to protect you. 

Or why he finds you so endearing… 

So enchanting… 

Despite spending his life being feared, Yoongi finds himself completely and utterly terrified for the first time.

Terror aside, he knows what he has to do.

He has to tell you that your grandfather lied to you.

He has to tell you that not everything is as it seems.

He has to tell you the truth.

[chiimmchiimm]

❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓉𝑒𝓃 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “  

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair).   𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒:  smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔:  +18   𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:   dirty language, proposals, mood swings, spectacular bodies, muscles, biceps, problems, future friends ?, jealousy, confessions.

                                         Fear is an ephemeral feeling that can cause great consequences if we let it dominate us. I don't know if what I felt at that moment was fear or a simple tingling of what could happen, but I had already gotten into this and couldn't turn back. Halfway there, Lucy had harassed me with slightly irritating questions. When we crossed the patio door and saw where she was looking, her nerves betrayed her.

"What are you supposed to do? You promised me you wouldn't tell anyone." She begs, her cold, wet fingers brushing my wrist to stop me.

"Jimin won't find out about me, calm down. I know what I do."

Heading towards a stack of men stacked with Lucy behind me. Getting all kinds of reactions, some men frown their frown over my meddling in their affairs, others decided to be a bit more impolite and not cut a hair how much they needed female company. There I found him, sitting with his legs in the position of an Indian, playing what seemed to be a most innocent game of cards, although anyone who needs some intelligence could realize that it was not so much.

I couldn't even take the privilege of approaching him so that he could see me because a blue movie (the same one I saw in the cafeteria on the fateful day I met Hong Kong) had got in my way with too much determination. Although he was not as tall as Thirteen, I did have to stretch his neck up a little to give him an annoyed look. He had delicate features I agreed with his white skin, however, eyes injected with fury turned away any sweetness from him.

“Suga.” A slightly weak voice rang out behind me. The blue movie put all his attention on the way Lucy came out of hiding. The boy angry with the world seemed to soften his frown for a moment. "Please let her pass."

“Is she a friend of yours, Dallas?” Her question caused me some discomfort at the simple fact that it seemed that if I wasn't, my person was worthless. My friend nodded slowly before shrinking back behind my back. Suga snorted moving my hair causing it to form a face of torture, I did not like to get my breath in my face. All without getting out of front. Imitating a dramatic inhalation pass by him with the same annoyed air as him.

"I'm going with everything." He said, a man with an orange hairy beard. He bent his entire body to drag all the tiles onto the concrete. I looked immediately at his opponent too intrigued, Thirteen seemed too focused to worry about his surroundings, he did not notice my presence until he gave a smile full of pride to the redhead. As if my person will be a stimulant for him, he imitated the bearded man's gesture and slipped his own with too much confidence. Jimin, who was next to him, showed an expression of confusion mixed with a little more alarmed, it seemed as if the act of his friend had caught him by surprise. Thirteen brought a finger to his lower lip to touch him, he transmitted so much confidence that the redhead had no choice but to make his letters known. I opened my eyes surprised at how good his letters were, that redhead had a straight flush. Seeing himself as the great winner of the game, he leaned his body back with an air of pride. "Thirteen, it seems that I have ..."

The redhead closed his mouth impressed when the chestnut man revealed his hand. I throw the full as if he didn't care, then he got up and approached me.

"Graff, collect the money for me." His tone did not sound like an order, but rather, a proposal that the blond did not take long to accept. Deeply rolling his eyes in my surprised expression, he smiled under his breath as if that gesture was only for me. No need to open my mouth, as if reading my mind, he leaned toward my ear and whispered in a hot sigh. "Come with me, gongjunim."

Without unnecessary waiting, take a breath of air before following you to the other end of the large courtyard. He walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed and the most serene look he had seen so far. He seemed quite happy despite not expressing it directly with a smile, well, actually, he was like that, he never showed emotions, only if it was necessary. Probably his good mood was due to the exorbitant amount of money he had just won, but the brightness that I perceived in his eyes when he turned and supported the fence, yelled at me that there was something else, that he was not only elated by the simple fact of having won a couple of dollars.

"You have accepted my proposal, I deduce. I must admit that I am surprised by how quickly you have decided, precious."

I frown intensely when I hear his compliment. Actually, he seemed in a very good mood, with a triumphant air that even the smallest insect could disturb. Arecosto the head while lowering a funny look towards me. His thick neck was in the front line, I had to take a lot of willpower to avoid being hypnotized by the movement of his Adam's nut. Coming out of my little temporary trance, I clench my lips and direct an overrated face towards his direction.

"Those are the bets?" Playing cards like little children? ”My scroll forms a sideways smile full of fun on his lips.“ I don't know who is most surprised. Thirteen, if you or me.

"There are many types of bets, gongjunim. That was just one of the many games my people are dedicated to. You know ..." He takes off the back of the gate to straighten and impose his height. He stretched his neck up to have more access to his facial reaction, which despite being almost neutral, I can perceive excitement from the discussion. As if it were his most banal custom, he leans his mouth over my ear to disturb her with hoarse whispers. "... keep up appearances."

“That is very good for you, isn't it?” I take the audacity to whisper directly on her cheek, to subtly paste the surface of my lips. My most lucid self is screaming at me internally how much I have spent making such a provocative gesture. However, when Thirteen tightens the jaw and separates with the darkened look, my imaginary self begins to dance in a triumphant dance. His proud smile had been overshadowed for a couple of seconds by a little confusion, frowning as he realized my ironic tone. The discussion I heard between Lucy and him has not yet left my mind, really, I never thought I saw him so broken. Taking advantage of their state of confusion, I opened my lips calling their attention to them, I remained silent for a couple of seconds, without reacting to their dark pupils, but sanity came to me like a tsunami. "I want forty percent of the profits to help you win. "

Her sharp laughter completely paralyzed my imaginary dancer, she looked at me with a big question in her head while my real self kept an eye on her peculiar laugh.

"You'll be twenty, that's what the rest of my people earn."

Expanding his eyes to his stingy attack. It is as much as he is that this percentage is too small. I urgently need the money to help Lucy and with that misery it would take weeks to cover what Shanghai is exaggeratedly asking.

"But I'm different." I mutter softly to sound much weaker. My sudden change in attitude seems to affect him, his shoulders stick to the ends of his neck with momentum, his gaze darkens more and he licks his lips. It forced me to continue this absurd game that I didn't even do where I am going, I am really desperate and if I have to use the tricks of a pampered girl to get what she wants, Eevee have mercy on my soul. "It was you who you asked me to help you. "

His wildly sensual smile almost destroyed the foundations of my security. My role as a weak girl was almost endangered when referring to her large body mass, she took a step towards my direction to almost completely hit our bodies.

"To increase that percentage you will have to earn it, a lot." Pronouncing that adverb too slowly, he kept his gaze fixed on mine waiting for it to be the first to yield. I did not do it. I don't calculate when time we were caught in each other's eyes, but enough for my sudden tremor to betray my urgency. I didn't know exactly what crossed his mind at the time, but when he looked away at the wall, I thanked him with a deaf gasp. "I'm going to give you thirty percent, if I see that you serve, I will give you forty for sure that you ask me."

I opened my mouth to close it instantly. Actually, it was more than I expected to get, really, I had said that percentage in a guiding way. Surprised at how well I had managed to cope with the situation, I turned around with a smile that was increasing as I moved away.

"That means that from now on I will become your personal trainer."

My smile disappears before I turn at him.

"I wasn't serious about being my coach." He tried to make sure that he was playing a joke. I looked for something in his expression that revealed his amusement, but he only looked at me with a serious look.

"It was a contract we stipulated in the gym when you tried to mistreat my bag."

"Yes, but ..."

"If I'm not your coach, you can't help me with the bets."

“But why? I already told you that I am a disaster, is that, really. I don't want you to owe me a favor, I don't care about those things ...

"Then there is no deal." His lips open and close too tightly. His brow frowns intensely before releasing a frustrated growl towards my direction. Then he turns and starts to get away from me. Flapping with exaggerated hands before running behind him. My fingers wrap his wrist in an attack of hysteria, he stops quite tense, as if the single act of my touch will cause him an accumulation of emotions that I would not know how to control. I notice the process of dilating his veins under my palm, I feel chills from the warmth of his skin. It is the first time I touch him, when I realize my actions, I withdraw the altered hand.

"Okay." I close my eyes when a little shriek escapes through my nerves. He says nothing, he simply advances as if he had said nothing. Leaving me practically at the mercy of all the curious looks that had been spectators of our scene. Suddenly looking down to the ground with my cheeks flushed with shame, not knowing if my modesty was due to my overexposure or the simple fact of having become manipulated.

A blow to the face is what I need to get back in me. With my head in the clouds while thinking about meaningless things with my eyes glued to the ground. Apart from the fact that Lucy had just hit me practically in the face with a rolled towel, I decide to let it be and concentrate on the task of collecting the empty bottles in a little pile.Another day that passed in this prison, I sighed reluctantly. It is true that Lucy's presence is pleasant to me (as long as it does not hit me with strange things), that the days make me more pleasant, but that does not take away the fact that I crave the freedom I know I deserve.

This morning, as I passed the calendar hanging on the wall of the cafeteria, I realized that today was the day I had been in this place for a month. As if being exact, there were three weeks left for my birthday, that little memory caused me to sigh again.

Glancing over the towel cart, I see Lucy wipe her forehead with her sleeve.

"You shouldn't work so hard, you're pregnant. The first weeks are the most important." I knew willingly that my scolding was not going to take it well for the simple reason that I was very stubborn. Confirm my suspicions when, in an act of total immaturity, he stuck my tongue out. I gave him a tired grimace before throwing the last batch of bottles in the trash. "It's a serious matter. My aunt almost lost my cousin ..."

"What luck." She whispers, under her breath and with her chin inward to avoid being heard, but my great auditory sense catches her immediately.

"What do you say?"

Throwing the towels badly, he gives me a foul look.

"What you hear. I didn't want it and if it dies then goodbye very good."

"You're talking about a life, Lucy." I reprimand, with accusation glistening by my tone of voice. "Your son." I whisper, this time ensuring that no one will listen to us. Looking at all the places where there could be people to verify that they were not following our conversation.

"I don't want it." He spat quickly before he rolled up a towel and threw it into the cart angrily. "It's my last word."

"But..."

"Hey, Blair! I thank you for helping me in the Shanghai affair but that doesn't give you the right to get into my life like that, except in such an intimate affair. You don't know ..." stop talking suddenly. His eyebrow frown almost instantly when he sees something behind me. Swallow sharply, your lower lip begins to shake leaving me stunned. When I decide to turn around, I meet Thirteen, he raises his eyebrow at Lucy, but she can't stand it and leaves the gym dragging the cart too quickly. He stays a couple of seconds analyzing in the direction that Lucy has left, frowns as I look at her profile. He seems worried but confusion also plays an important role in his gaze.

Then, lead your eyes to my direction.

“Come on?” “It's not a question, it's an order because it advances without waiting for an answer from me. I close my eyes and sigh overwhelmed. The gym exit was so tempting. I do a little breathing exercise to relax before turning and following. Actually, I can't understand the insistence he has to help me with my duck sporting ability. He stands in front of a punching bag and then bends down to deposit a bottle at the foot of the structure, his wonderful flexing muscles are visible. I silently follow his movements until he looks at me again, quickly looked away from his body completely ashamed. Traveling across the ground I look at him again to find him lost at the exit. You must still be thinking about Lucy. When he returns to his position he grabs the bag with both hands. "He has three attack zones, the blue one for the head, the red one for the body and the yellow one for the lower extremities. As you can deduce the other day you were trying to hit the area yellow."

"I already told you that I am a disaster, and I do not understand why you are still ..."

"Put your fists up." He growls, he's annoyed at my little collaboration, I can tell by the pressure of his jaw. I roll my eyes and abide by his order, I hold them in his direction but soon I was repressed. "Taller woman, you don't want to let them beat you."

Under the arms of blow.

"I have short arms, I don't give more of myself." I answer, wrinkling my nose as I move my arms dramatically in random directions. It is not my fault that I was born with so little spirit of sport. He suddenly stopped any action when I hear how a small laugh escapes his lips, one that immediately suppresses. Get serious again and pat the bag to divert my attention, but I can't help but see the way in which his lips have silenced that involuntary emotion. Actually, it seemed as if he didn't want me to know that my little self-criticism had seemed funny. I frown, it must be quite strenuous to keep your face so rigid all day.

"You have to shrink your body to reduce the exposed areas, in your case it will be easy you are a dwarf."

I let out an indignant scream.

"Excuse me, sir, I am taller than you." I am not short, my height falls within the middle. "I answer, pride transpires through all the pores of my skin.

"Yes, whatever you say. Now, give it." I feel a strange sense of comfort from the hint of fun in his voice, adding the fact that his words despite sounding uncompromising his expression said the opposite. I find myself imitating his act, clenching his lips to prevent the smile that threatened to leave, did. I hit the red zone to start at once with this impromptu training, suddenly I hear a pout of disapproval. "It doesn't happen that way."

"Then stop complaining and show me how it's done." I growl and, as I pat the sack through the cloud of anger that dominates all reason. Thirteen, raise an eyebrow surprised by my change in attitude. His pupils shine with something that is not described, it seems joyful but I am not sure. The next thing I do not see coming, it is placed behind me sticking his chest against my back, his hands move towards mine to lift them, I attend the first blow. It controls the movement of my body so naturally that I feel like a puppet. With each blow, a small push is accompanied, the redness of his legs brushes the back of my knees. I stop an involuntary gasp when his pelvis crashes into my butt in an abrupt motion. I feel my cheeks burn, my mouth is open as I remove myself to separate myself from it. To my surprise he releases me right away. I feel, as the heat of his body leaves mine when he stands next to me while he frowns confused. It is only after realizing my shameful little state when he realizes the reason why discomfort has been represented on my face so furiously.

His ladino smile doesn't help me at all.

"What happened, beautiful? Have you been excited?"

My cheeks burn under my palms when I cover my dead face with shame.

“Have you done it on purpose, right?” I growl, the words don't come out too clear from my coat of hands but I don't care. I know you heard me because a tongue click sounds.

“The what?” His little question, not at all innocent, causes me to run away from my shelter and uncover my face.

"That." I get the voice fast and stained with too much sharpness.

"And what is that?"

I open my mouth indignantly when I notice his intentions, he wants me to say it, he wants to see how I describe that so rough behavior. Thirteen, just resting an arm in the bag to get close to my face, he is mocking me, but unlike the other times he has had the audacity to mess with me, he had never done it that way, if he did not know his explosive character would even swear he's flirting with me. I discard that possibility with too much effusiveness, you are simply practicing your favorite activity, making fun of me. Nothing else.

"Always acting with such correction, gongjunim. Aren't you tired of always acting? I know you have loved what I have done to your little round butt. I bet you have loved the shape of my thrusts."

"Do not..."

"No, what." Take advantage of my evasion to bring his mouth to my ear.

"Don't do that." I whisper, fleeing from its heat moving to the other end of the bag. I put my back on the latex and crossed my arms. I am aware that I have betrayed myself with my cowardly behavior, but I have really been forced to act so impulsively because of the uncomfortable way in which my body began to succumb to its menthol breath. I do not know what happens to me when it is close but I begin to suffer ups and downs of chills that I fail to understand its purpose. I know you're behind me, I see your body reflected in the mirror in front. He rests his arm leaving his bulging bicep in sight, but he looked away almost out of necessity.

"Hello, Blair." A terribly familiar voice sneaks in between us. I look again at the mirror to find the image of Brain at the gym door. Moving away from that suffocating atmosphere, I walk slowly towards my friend knowing that I had a look nailed to my neck. I extend my arms and give him a friendly hug in the form of a greeting. As I separate, I see Brain's lovely smile. A blow to my back causes me to form a fist in Brain's jacket. I look sideways at the mirror beside me, Thirteen strikes the sack with such emphasis that the poor object swings enthusiastically. It's amazing how easy it is to hit, it seems as if he really knows what he is doing. Each blow is directed with such precision that if it is not because Brain was here, I would sit down and admire his skill. His voice brings me back. "Mrs. Smith has left the hospital, tomorrow you can return to your old task."

"Okay." I accept, I return her smile kindly. I close my eyes when another blow breaks into the room. Brain sweeps Thirteen's body with contempt for the scandal he was forming. His perfume interferes with my nostrils as a welcome intruder, a smell of lime rather than relaxing that leads me to approach him.

“Was I bothering you?” Brain's soft tone creeps into my heart like a pleasant storm. Another blow much more strenuous than the previous ones causes my shoulders to strike a start. The squeaky sound of the chain roars furiously with each punch, Brain narrows his eyes when in a quick warning, he can see how Thirteen does not take his eyes off his, indirectly provoking him with strong latex attacks.

"No." I am forced to intervene, I feel chills of regret all over my body, I wasn't sure if I told him about my small deal with Thirteen. "I'm fine, go to work."

"Safe?"

"Yes, go."

After a few long pleas for him to do his duty, the blows stop as if it were a miracle. Turning on my own heels, I find myself crossed my arms towards his person. Thirteen successfully ignores me with the cheap excuse of wiping the drops of sweat, which he had so arduously built along his brow for extreme exercise. Putting all my self-control into practice so as not to look at her skin, transparent through the fabric, I frown.

“What?” He growls, despite finding himself without an apex of breath he keeps his mouth shut.

"What was that?"

"It's called boxing, beautiful." Ironizes, through an unbearable tone.

I put my eye white.

"You're so bipolar ..." I sigh, tired of always having to carry the rational part in our pointless conversations. Thirteen is an effusive smile but so false that I drown in my own self-control. Glue a light (more than intentional) push to the bag, the latex hits my stomach causing me to bend at the sensation. I sigh, I jerk him away. "And now why do you behave like a little boy? Just ten minutes ago you were crazy about your sister's behavior ...”

Shit.

Oh holy shit.

“What the hell did you just say?” I had never seen him whisper so nervous, letting himself be carried away by a massive attack, hit the bag so hard it almost slipped off the roof. The chain squeaks elated by the attack, I can not help but shrink in my own fear, I deeply analyze his change in attitude because at one moment he stops breathing through his mouth and sinks his head into the sack, covering all possibility of seeing what it was Your expression now. I am pleasantly surprised when an affected whisper comes out through the tiny hollow of his arms. "Did he tell you, Lucy?"

"No, I heard it ..."

Take off the face of the sticky material, give me a confused look. From the pressure of his lips I can deduce that he is pressing his tongue against the palate, he was nervous, surprised and a little upset. I never thought that all those emotions could fit in one glance, every day I discovered a new facet of his personality.

"You can't tell anyone."

“Why?” I asked, lost in the depth of his confused eyes.

Resting his back in the sack as the only support, sliding a hand down his face to clean the frustration.

"Because it is better here not to have people you love, Blair."

NEXT

[mythologymonsterlover]

Male! Angel Lover

A girl who wants to be on her own for once, meets a man she never realize always been there for her in her deepest time of need. Welcome to her story about love at first sight~

Warning: sexual content, cussing

Female Reader X Male monster

I say this many times, but I'll say it again, I have stupid luck.

Ever since I was a little girl, I escaped death only by a hair. People always said it was because an angel was watching over me, but I never believed that for a second. Growing up though with this surprisingly good luck and being a restless kid, I managed to turn out as a somewhat normal person. I grew up in Florida but now live in Colorado, with my grandma who owns a flower shop. I moved here since I liked the colleges here more than in Florida, and also to get away from my over possessive mother who I love dearly.

It just hard to grow as a person when your mother is still reminding you to get up for school at the age of nineteen. So moving out to live in a totally different setting seemed like the best way in starting my new independent life. I started working for my grandmother as her store’s cashier, and I do classes in the early morning in order to earn my bachelors degree. everything seemed to be going well...until tonight unfortunately.

I was at my grandma’s store at eleven when I strange man walked in that looked homeless. I didn’t say anything at first since I didn’t want to be rude, but he picked up a glass vase then drop it with shaky hands. It made a loud crash, and shattered into tiny little pieces on the ground. Startled, I rush over to where the man was and pick up the broken vase, and when I look up I already see another vase in the man’s grasp. Before he could drop the other to the ground, I grab it out of his hands gently but forcefully and set it down. The man looks at me wide eyed,

And I keep a smile on my face as to seem less imposing on him.

“Sir, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you to pay for that.”

I point to the place the shattered vase fell at and his facial expression turns from surprised to annoyed.

“It was just an accident, lady..” He says while scratching at his matted beard, and goes to walk away from me. Being annoyed and startled by the way his acting, I grab the back of his shoulder to get his attention once again. He turns his head slowly, giving me the stink eye, but I don’t waver. I point to the telephone and say, “If you don’t pay for that sir, I’m going to call the police.” With that I turn around walking away from him, back to counter with my arms crossed, and wait for the man to pay for what he's done. The creep gives me a disturbing grin, while shaking his head back and forth as he walks to the counter.

“Alright, so it’s like that…” he says under his breath, reaching for his jacket pocket. This is where I realized I’ve made a grave mistake,

as instead of pulling out a wallet, he takes out a gun. The points the barrel of the gun straight at my head, and I don’t even breathe as the man walks around the counter right next to me. He pushes me roughly to the ground with his other hand, and starts to rummage in the cash register drawer. Being filled with fear, I stay on the ground unmoving as he collects all the money putting it in his bag. After what felt like forever, he finally turns to me, still pointing the gun at my head. He grins mockingly, and with little courage but a lot of anger now I speak up.

“I’ll make sure the cops get you.” I say through gritted teeth, being so damn angry at the asshole I start shaking.

He looks at me wide eyed for a moment, but bellows out a laugh at my pitiful state.

“Oh sweetie, they won’t, since I'll make sure you never get to them.”

Being frightened by his statement I become dumbfounded until I hear a click.

The click of a gun.

He aims it at me with two hands on it now, and I can tell he definitely loaded a bullet in the chamber.

I realize in that horrible moment, that he was going to kill me.

I wanted to cry out, but because I’m so choked up with fear I stay paralyzed.

I’m going to die, and know one will know who did it because we don’t even have security cameras in the store. We hadn’t in years, and the fact that this man properly knew this sicken me to my core.

“See you in hell, sweetheart.” The frightful figure says to me, and i'm ready to feel the pain of the bullet go through me as I shut my eyes so hard, they hurt.

Yet I don't feel a thing.

I waited in anticipation for the shoot to ring out, but instead all I hear is a heavy breath from beside me exhale, and then a sudden thumb like something fell over. Breathing hoarsely by the fact that i'm not dead by now, I open my eyes to see something I never expected to happen in a million of years. Their right in front of me, a man who looks like a librean hold the gun up in the air, and is twisting the hobo’s waist so hard the guy yells out in agony. I don't make a single sound as the tall intellectual throws the gun across the room, and lifts up the jerk by the collar looking him straight in his eyes.

The creep freezes up in fear at being the helpless victim in distress now.

“Went through so much trouble to be a real pain tonight, didn’t you Jeremy?” the weird looking tall guy says with a hint of annoyance, and fixes his glasses on his face as he drops the hobo to the ground. The jerk looks absolutely feartrighten by the other man’s words and backs away to the edge of the room to create as much distance as possible.

“H-How did you know my name!?” He yells out, but before he could say another word the stronger man snaps his fingers, which forms a white gaping hole underneath the hobo. Then just as suddenly, the creep who was once a frightening figure before me, vanishes into a portal into god knows where, disappearing from my sights for good.

At this point, the shop is so silent it hurts, and the only noise I could hear was my own beating heart ringing in my ears. I didn’t know how to react so I just sat there on the ground shivering in fear, feeling tears stream down my face as I try to hold back my gasping sobs. The man who saved me just stands there, and he doesn’t moved from the spot like he should to make sure I’m alright. When I start to calm down to try and assess the situation, is when he finally looks at me. I don’t move again in fear, knowing it’s stupid to be acting like a rabbit caught in the head light, but it was a primal instinct that was natural to me.

I didn't move as the weird looking librean man walk slowly right in front of me, and crouch down to my eye level.

“My, ever since you were young you always seem to be on death’s list.” He mummer incoherently like he was speaking to himself, but not directly at me. Scared of what just happen and by his random closeness, I back away from him and bring my legs to my chest. The man then seems startled by my reaction, and back away from me as well.

“Wait, no, you can't..” He trails off as he reaches out his hand toward me. I react by flicking my head away then by lifting my hands to cover up my face. I don't want him or anyone to touch me, I just want to leave.

“Keep away from me please.” I say with a weak but frighten voice, making sure he got the message that I didn't want to have anything to do him.

This is when things just get even weirder though, as the man gasp backing away from me like I just try to punch him or something. Confused by his response I lift my head up to meet with his eyes. I didn't get a good look at him before, only what his back and side looked like, but that i know see him face first i'm bewildered at his appearance even more the before. He indeed is wearing glasses, but the color of his eyes are what startles me the most right now. Instead of being a normal color like brown or blue, they are a shining gold that looks like the sun. His hair is a deep sliver like an old man hair would be, but his face is as youthful as a man in his prime years. Young and handsome looking, he raises an eyebrow at me and tightens up his back.

“You..can see me.” This time he says directly at me, and I nod my head slowly at his oddness in his voice like he can’t believe it.

“Of course I would..you just saved me, right?”

He nods his head in confirmation, but has a sicking whiteness like he just seen a ghost. With shaking hands he walks towards me, bends down to my eye level once again, and speaks now with emotional strain in his beautiful voice. Feeling like I’m no longer in danger, I let him touch my face, letting him run his fingers down my cheek. I don’t know why, but his entire being feels so familiar that him being so close doesn’t bug me the slightest. As my eyes meet his golden ones, he snaps back from his trance like state and recoils away from me. Being more startled then confused, I get up on my own two feet once again and walk slowly towards him.

“D-Do I know you?” I say sheepishly, feeling like a preschooler asking if she did something wrong. The man though doesn’t make eye contact with me anymore, and turns around to walk away.

“Wait, who are you sir?” I say yelling out, but can’t move my legs to grab him.

It’s almost feels like I’m glued to the spot, so I don’t even attempt to run after him. He looks back only once, and I hear him mummer something under his breath.

“Don’t follow me.” Is what I think he said.

Just like that though, he walks out the door into the night, disappearing like a ghost. I didn’t move for a couple minutes at the very least, but when I finally do, I grab my keys and lock the store door.

I’m pretty sure I had enough for tonight I think.

…

My days after the incident were pretty rough, since I had to call the police and order security cameras for the store. I didn’t want anyone else to deal with what I had to ever again. Especially when my grandmother told me she had problems with that hobo in the past; that just caused me to be afraid. Yet after all the cameras were installed finally, I went back to work. I didn’t want my grandma to worry too much about me, so I promise I would work only in the day time. Also, the man that saved me that night never came forward about who he was. I looked all over town for him, but I couldn’t find the guy and assume he must have been a visitor.

This morning I decided to clear my head by walking into the woods, where there's a path that leads to the shop. I just couldn’t bring myself to drive to the place today since my anxiety was over the roof. Walking down the path this morning seemed to especially calm down my nerves.

That’s until I saw the man again...the man who saved me from that hobo.

I stop dead in my tracks when I saw him, not wanting to startle the stranger. Looking around at my surrounding, I see that we both are in the middle of the forest, which means we aren't too deep or too far from people. He hasn't notice me it seems, and looks relatively calm while sitting on the beach. Knowing this is my only chance to ever thank him for what he did, I walk toward him until I’m only an arms length away. I stand there for a moment, hoping that he’ll notice me any time now..However, he keeps reading a small book, not even noticing I'm near him the slightest.

He must really like that book.

I decide to take initiative and reach out to tap his shoulder. This is when things get weird again, as my hand goes right through him. I pull back startled, and feel my anxiety rise up in my entire being. He must have notice that my hand went through him, as he looks toward be bewildered.

“What are you!?” I yell out, not being able to register what just happened. The man is taken aback by my shouting and drops his book to the ground. Intensely, he just stares right back at me with what I can only describe as awe.

“..You can see me.”

I nod my head, confused as to why he thinks I can’t see him. He said something like that the last time we were together, and was fascinated by me looking at him which caused me to feel a little bashful. Right now, his looking at me like he did when we were in the shop, but I still can’t see why that would be.

“Why wouldn't I be able to see you? I mean, your standing in broad daylight..”

His taken aback for a moment, but seems to regain some composer as he straighten up his posture and adjusting his glasses. He coughs in his fist, like his trying to clear his nerves, and reaches for me to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry ma’am for being so...rude. My name is Chamuel, it's nice to meet you.”

I play nice, and shake the odd man’s hand. As I feel the embrace of his hand touch mine, intense pleasure goes through me. It’s not any kind of pleasure though, but unconditional love for someone that can’t be expressed by words. Not able to understanding these emotions, I pull my hand away quickly and hold it to my chest. Chamuel not being startled by my reaction this time apparently, lets out a small laugh as to calm down me down. I look into his natural golden eyes again, and reflect on his weird appearance. Still needing answers, I repeat the words I said to him just a couple of seconds ago.

“Are you even a human, Chamuel?”

It seems like an crazy question to ask, but not as crazy as when my hand went through his body. Chamuel doesn't look at me weirdly from my question. He picks up his book off the ground and sit back on the beach. His rubbing his chin as he sets his book beside him, while staring down at his lap in deep thoughts. He nods his head a couple of time to himself, then when his done he looks back up to me with more clearness in his eyes.

With a small smile, he says, “Your quite the unique one to be able to see me, and to answer your question, no, I’m not human.”

Feeling a little light headed, I back away from him to comprehend if this is really happening, or if i'm just dreaming. He looks at me concerningly by my reaction, and gets up to grabs my shoulder to ease my balance. He moves me to the beach, than places me right next to him. He keeps his hand on my shoulder, and I feel calmed by his presence more than frightened.

“Have you ever read the bible?” He says with the sweetest voice I ever heard. It literally causes me to melt in shyness in front of the handsome man.

I shake my head back and forth in response, as I never did believe in Christian beliefs. It just seemed ridiculous to believe in a being that seemed so unreal. Even most of my family were atheist, as they saw god as a figure of people’s imagination. The man nodded his head in understanding, and looked out to the green forests. It was so quiet that I couldn't hear a single bird chirping, which also happened at the shop when Chamuel appeared.

“Why are you asking me question? I should be the one asking you.” I say nervously, more to say anything in this uncomfortable silence. I also didn't’ even thanked him; which I just wanted to do and leave.

Talking about if god is real or not seemed to be a waste.

He looks down at me though like he understood what I was thinking, and simply says,

“It’s not important, I was just curious.”

Then with that, he gets up and puts his book under his armpit.

He smiles while waving at me warmly.

“If Jeremy comes back to the shop, just say my name and I’ll be there for you.” He says nicely, and begins to walk away.

I get up to follow him, but before I could even take a step, he evaporates into thin air.

I’m left speechless with only a single thought running in my head: Who the hell is he?

…

I started to do research on what I could have possibly seen, trying to connect theories I have by what he was like.

I’ve been up for a week, and read stories about ghost, demons, and whatnot. It’s only then do I realize he gave me the most important clue to what he was really.

The Bible.

He asked me if I read the Bible, and I think he was actually hinting to me about what he was. When I finally see what I’ve been missing, I go to the library and pick up a copy of the Bible.

It’s when I get home and into my room with the book I see him again. He was laying on my bed, and had a somewhat smug look on his face. I nearly had a heart attack by seeing him, that I grib the door handle as I huff out a angry sigh.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I say walking into my room, putting the Bible on the table.

“You wished for my presence.”

The man who claims to be called Chamuel simply states, and sit upright on my bed.

“Are you some kind of incubus?” I say annoyed, since he looks like his craving something. It would make sense as he is extremely good looking, and has a alluring nature that’s hard to ignore.

Chamuel though seems disappointed in my answer as he lets out a sigh, and gets up on his feet. There, he looks toward the photo of my mother and me which was taken a year ago.

“You grow up with quite a loving mother.” He says quietly, and turns to walk towards me.

I don’t move as he stands before me, and slowly move his hand to caress my cheek. He once again looks deep into my eyes with his golden ones, which causes the world around me to disappear suddenly. I emerge into what I can only describe as a different world, as I see Chamuel standing on a rocky shore looking into a vast ocean. His entire being looks different though - because instead of looking like a normal guy- he has now pure glowing skin and wings that spread across his back. I’m still uncertain about what this means, until a book I never seen forms before my eyes in midair. I grab it reluctantly, and the pages move on their own until they rest on a single page that states:

“I will help you realize judgmental attitudes, even if your unaware of them.

I will help you use your shortcoming as an opportunity to connect with your higher self...

As I am the angel of love and forgiveness, and I’m here to bring warmth into your heart.”

When I look up again, I truly see him.

Standing over my frame with so much love in his eyes, I feel I could break down crying on the spot. I move my hands to touch his face, and very calmly I move my

face closer to his.

I was scared, but I place my lips on his, not knowing why but feeling the need to be closer to him.

Chamuel does not refuses me thankfully, and kisses back with such love in his touch I feel light headed again. We stay like that for only a moment though, as we pull away with admiration in gaze of each other.

“Your an angel.” I say breathlessly, and feel his arms wrap around my back as he brings me back to his lips, sliening me with a kiss. Its deeper this time, and I feel my body react with pleasure from his tough engulfing into my mouth. He sucks on my tough a couple of times that causes me to shudder, and I move my hand to his chest rubbing it with love. When he detaches my mouth from his, he moves his lips to my chest and start sucking on a sweet spot on my breast. I let out a small moan from the pleasure, and move my hand down his pants as he does the same to me. Very soothingly, we stroke each other at our most sensitive spots. I was the first to feel my inner core heat up from his touch, as I felt the sweet release of myself come undone upon him. He kept stroking me even after I already came, and I felt the need to finish this before I passed out from the overbearing pleasure that I was receiving.

More braver than before, I move my hand out of his pants and move my head instead down to his couch. He looks at me bewildered for a moment, but seems to understand what I’m about to do when I pull down his pants. His dick comes out half hard, and with this being my first time doing something like this, I stroke him a little more before I emerge my entire mouth on his shaft. I let it go as deep as I can bear, and slowly move my head up and down with a somewhat strong need in my core still. I keep hearing him mummer unadible word under his breath, which then turn into louder grunts as he grabs the ground around him with his first.

After a few more up and down motions of my mouth, I feel his cum in my mouth and the heavy load it was. I don’t feel comfortable with swallowing it all, so I let some of it trail down my chin onto my bare chest. I look up at him, making sure I didn’t go to far with doing this, but he looks back at me with loving eyes as he wipes my mouth. He bring me up into his chest, and I happily lay there as I hear the claiming ease of his chest falling up and down. Chamuel rubs his hands down my back as I lay there, and I feel myself never wanting this to end.

“Chamuel, will you stay with me?” I speak somewhat afraid, not wanting to be selfish but also not wanting to let this holy man out of my grib ever again. Chamuel stops rubbing my back, and moves one of his hands under my chin in order for me to face him. There, his golden eyes glow radiantly with love, and he places his head to mine.

Then he says the words that I never knew were true, but what I needed to hear my entire life.

“I have always been here with you, and I will never leave your side until the end of time.”

[club40audio]

The Olde Towen Buffet

I will be posting, Chapter by chapter, my #Lovecraftian #CosmicHorror #Horror Novel “The Olde Towen Buffet” If you enjoy what you are reading, I encourage you to get ahead of the curve and buy the complete book for $5 (Kindle, $15 in print), or read it #Free on #KindleUnlimited. Also this novel is written, edited, and corrected by me alone, I would be grateful to you #GrammarNazis if you would point out my missteps, and how to correct them in the comments. So that I can improve the #Kindle book. Respectful Criticism, is welcome. I am interested to know your thoughts Chapter by Chapter! (I will not be correcting the bad "returns" and such that seem to be happening as I copy and paste. If this is a problem for you, again, please read the book off of the Kindle book, where these problems do not exist.:) )

Prologue: 

He stood there in the darkness. The sound of chanting voices filling the chamber. He could feel the power pulsing through him, the same power that held him in place and made him unable to move, like a painless, paralyzing, electricity. This was it. This was what he had longed for all his life. He wanted this.  When the time came he would do anything for it. The changes had already begun to take place in him, and oh how wonderful they were. There had been no resistance. When the work was begun in him he hardly knew anything was happening at all… But soon it had been undeniable. Now he stood in the darkness as the flames danced before him casting his shadow on the wall. From somewhere off to his left, he heard the distant wailing cries of the woman he had once thought of as his wife; the woman who he once thought the most important thing in his puny existence. But now he understood so much more. Now he was part of something bigger.  Something... cosmic. She was nothing. Her sobbing would soon be silenced and no longer of any account. She cried his name over and over; pleading with him to break free, to come away with her, but freedom was an illusion, and it meant nothing without power. And this was power.  Her face was beaten and bloody, and seeing that might have once elicited some emotion from him, but now he was beyond such things. Let it happen. Let it come now. No more waiting.  He wanted it to be over. He wanted it to begin. He wanted the power; the strength. All the might which had been conveyed upon him this night was but a taste of what was to come. When he had fully given himself over, when the darkness was embraced, then he would know this strength a thousand-fold. He would do anything, give anything; be anything that was required of him, so long as he could have this.  He had always thought that if somehow this boon was bestowed upon him, that his first goal would be vengeance. He had been sure that he would hunt down all those who had wounded him every day of his life; his father first and foremost of all.  He remembered the plans he had for the boss at the job he had so recently been fired from; Mr. Williams. The man for whom he had worked for nearly fifteen years and who now had ruined him. His life and career were over, not only at his law office, but for all legal work.  He thought of hunting down the girls who had rejected him in High School and even the bullies of the playground.  Yes!  How they would have all paid for what they had done. Anyone who had ever laughed at him, or made him feel small. He would grind their bones to meal. He remembered when he was a child how nearly every day, they had circled him chanting, “Stubby Stanley! Stubby Stanley!” and “Fatty fatty, two by four, can’t fit through the kitchen door.” and the perennial favorite, “U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no alibi!”How they had guffawed when he couldn’t reach the monkey bars from the highest of the supports, let alone hold himself up as he tried to make his way from one bar to the next. Every time he would flop down in the hard-packed dirt below like a sack of moldy potatoes. Then his memories swirled round to the girls who had rejected him because he was shorter than they, and the slow agony he would have extracted from them. Even now when he was becoming something beyond any of their understanding, their words echoed and raced through his mind, solidifying his choice: _“What girl wants a guy they have to get down on one knee to kiss? Tony, now there’s a real man! Six-foot, two and he might get even taller!” __“Maybe I’ll let you take me out when the school has a “Date a Hobbit Dance!” “Do I look like my name is Esmeralda?  ‘Cause I sure ain’t walking around on the arm of no Quasimodo!”  _“Hey, short stuff! Get that ball from off the wall rack!” The coach had shouted at him, knowing he would have to climb up the rack to reach the only ball that was left at the very top. And when the rack had tipped over, as he knew it would, smashing him to the floor bruising his ribs, the coach had called out as the other boys laughed, “If you can’t get hold of a ball when it's sitting on a rack, how do you ever expect to play on my team? Get off the field, and don’t come back Short Stuff!” Then there had been his father: _“Look at him Natalie, he’s sixteen and he barely comes up to my chest! He’ll never bee any good at sports! He’s too small and weak for football. He’s far too short for basketball and he’s got zero hand-eye coordination! My only son is a runt! He’s not even good at academics! And here you are, mollycoddling him! He’s never going to amount to anything!”_  All this and more swirled about in his head, but now he had no thought for revenge, it was all behind him. So small and petty. Now he had worlds to conquer, soon all would bow before the might that was flowing into him. He could feel it coiling through him like a plant; like a vine, it was wrapping around his limbs and sinking into them, imbuing them with a virility he had never known, never could have known, but for the events of this strange night.  The sound of chanting in the darkness had ceased. Had it only stopped now, or was it some time ago? Trapped in a delicious trance of power and haze of remembrance he couldn’t be sure. But now the shadows on the wall were changing, were different, undulating with a light far stranger than any fire could produce. He knew, at last, the time had come. He was about to gaze upon his new master for the first time. He would joyfully submit. He would accept any contract, make any deal. This was all he had ever wanted. He felt the restraining power lift from him, and he could move once again. He lifted his eyes to see a sight that might have driven others mad. But to him it was beautiful. It was this one who had made a new life possible, and from somewhere deep inside himself, he heard his master’s voice speak his name for the first time.

1  “Doggone it!” Ally cursed, straining, stretching as high as she could, “Who built this place! Andre the Giant?” “No, it just wasn’t built for Gnomes.” Said her husband, effortlessly reaching up and taking down the suitcase, he had placed on the rack the night before, the handle of which had just evaded his wife’s grasp.   He handed it over to her as she huffed a begrudging, “Thanks.” And then mumbled, _“For nothing.” _Under her breath. Mark laughed, “Hey don’t hold it against me, I didn’t write your genetic code.” He flopped on to the bed, making the suitcase wobble, as his wife was reloaded it with all of her do-dads and whatnots that seemed so necessary for the care of her appearance. The trip was only going to last a week, but she seemed to have brought enough clothes for three. Then there were  the two extra, small suitcases, full of nothing but beauty care. The total of 4 suitcases had taken up all the space that was leftover in the trunk of Marks Chevy Malibu, once the small toolbox, jack, and four-way lug wrench were pushed to the side. Mark had to put his one small suitcase in the back seat. Now, three days later, they were on their way back from California to Chicago. They had spent the night in Aurora, about 35 miles south of Boulder. They were now only 17 hours from home. It would have been 15 hours, but a major road construction project had begun just after they had passed through on Route 76, on the way to California.   Already at 9 am, traffic was backed up.  According to the Mapping app on their phones, going back that way would have added nearly five hours to their trip. Mark had asked his wife to remind him to take route 70, in the morning so they could avoid that nightmare.  It came to her mind as she fit her curling iron and hairdryer back into the already cramped suitcase. “I wish we didn’t have to go around the construction, I hate Kansas.” “What’s the matter with Kansas?” asked Mark, “I love all that farmland, especially this time of year, just before the harvest. All those fields of green. It's beautiful.” “It's boring. Flat straight and goes on for what feels like forever! Did you know there are more single-vehicle accidents in Kansas per-capita than any other state? People get hypnotized out there driving on the roads alone, and when the road turns, they don’t. They go flying off into a ditch somewhere, and drown in a creek bed.” “Where did you read that?” Mark asked laughing to himself. “Oh on the internet somewhere…. Which reminds me I better check my phone while we still have service, I just know we’re going to get out there and lose signal.” “Our service plan covers 95% of the landmass of the continental US, according to the commercials.” “Yeah, and we are going to be driving right through that remaining 5%.” She said snapping the clasps on the suitcase into place, “I guess that’s everything.” “Don’t forget your make-up kit, Shawty,” Mark said, affecting an accent. Ally looked up and groaned. There, on top of the rack was her black plastic make up kit, with all her various blushes and brushes. “I’m never going to reach that. Why did you put it up there?” “Why did you even unpack it?” Mark replied, not moving from the bed, “When we were in LA, that made sense, you were getting all gussied up for the dinner. That made sense.” He repeated. “But last night you were getting ready for bed, and you took it out of your suitcase.  There’s nobody here but me, and you know you shouldn't wear makeup to bed. And then, you didn’t even use it.” “I was setting it out for the morning, I was planning to put my face on before we left, but I couldn’t find it.  I figured it had gotten buried in the clothes and I didn’t want to dig it out.” Ally said, annoyed. “Put your face on? For what? The drive home? You and me and miles and miles of corn?” He got up off the bed and moved toward her. “Besides I think my wittle munchkin looks so much better without her make-up.” He said affecting a “baby-talk” voice. She punched him in the bicep, hard enough to sting but not to truly hurt. “Ouch!” he said, playing it up. “Stop picking on my height. You know I’m sensitive about it.” “But you are just so cude!” He said, still in baby-talk, wrapping her in his arms, which from fingertip to fingertip of the opposite hand, were exactly 5 feet, 11 inches, perfectly proportionate to his height, “I wuv my Widdle Baby Wifey!” He picked her up and spun her around. “Stop that!” She said half laughing, “Put me down!” she said, even though he already had. “I may be only 5 feet tall but I’ll kick your butt anyway.” He laughed and reached up for the make-up kit, handing it to her. “Here you go Smurfette.” She ignored the jibe and reopened her make up suitcase, “Why’d you put it up so high?” “Because you had it on the sink and I needed to shave.  I didn’t want to ruin anything, with drops of water flying everywhere…. And I did that so you’d need me to get it down for you later… I have to remind you how much you need me every once in a while… Just in case you get complacent, or think you can do better.” Ally laughed, snapping the suitcase closed again, “I know I can do better, I’ve just grown accustomed to you.” “You know, that’s right.” Mark said with a toothy grin.

[thenovelist101]

Wandered

Chapter Six

To spare time, let’s address the main components to this heist: A rampage of bumbling fifth graders, racial slurs, milk, a bell, soldiers, and a devastatingly euphoric acquirement.

Let’s start with the basics, the actual plan. It was lousy, because when two poor girls who have never broken the law try to create a smart plan, it’ll almost never work.

“Can we please not do this?” Lavender said in a whisper. They were sitting on two barrels near a wooden barn. The two assumed they had a few minutes before they get kicked out. “No, I want to.” “Mirai, I’m dark. I’m going to go to jail.” “I’ll go with you.” “Do you not know how The Punishers work? They pardon these types of things for people like you.” Trust me Lavender, they would never pardon people like me. Mirai thought. She smiled. “It’ll be fun...” “Crazy.” “Look! All you have to do is ask a bunch of questions to the mister and I take some stuff and dash out. Simple.”

Lavender scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “That is kinda simple.” she admitted. Mirai nodded.

“Don’t you want to fight back? I know your brother got arrested, and you want to do something. This will help!” “In what way? Stealing isn’t going to get my brother out of jail.” “We’ll... order a cell next to him if we get caught?” “You really don’t know how to talk Mirai.” She frowned. Mirai was really bad at empathizing, or talking in a way didn’t personally attack someone.

A woman with a wooden stick came out of the shed. “What the hell are you two doing? Out of here! OUT!” The two jumped off the barrels and scrammed off into the streets again.

Natalie started sobbing into Lavender’s chest. She rubbed her back gently until she calmed down. Natalie was starving. Lavender looked at Mirai. “Fine, get milk. That ONLY.” Mirai made a smile that resembled the one Vincent made when he was sly. “Yes ma’am.”

————————

It started earlier with a boy, that was doing deliveries of newspapers in the morning. He was simply walking around town telling people to buy the paper, and heard the conversation quite distinctly. The he went up to tell his other newsboy friends, who told their sibling as well as their classmates, and those people told everyone else who didn’t know in the school. It spread like wildfire.

What was so interesting about this was no one ever openly said they would steal like that, and it felt like a peaceful protest of an imaginary revolution. The children were obsessed with that idea.

The original boy that heard was a sixth year, and the time he overheard where the two girls were going to steal didn’t match up with his class’s free period.

Now evidently, the fifth years had their free period the exact time afternoon started.

“Alright class, free time begins-“ Before the teacher could say he was finished, everyone shut their books and started putting on their coats to go outside. A specific boy, was most amped about the purge. Finally some people who understood what it was like to live in the world of thievery.

“We need to go. C’mon!” He slapped the back of a boy’s head, the person in question who was sleeping. “What… yeah, yeah, whatever Chris.” Chris had hair that went up in spikes, and a shabby brown coat that looked like it was stolen off from a homeless man’s back. Everyone was already leaving for this unplanned event and Chris didn’t want to be tardy.

“Okay, okay we’re coming.” said another boy with long hair. “C’mon Corny.” Corny was busy on his desk fiddling with the glass on his desk, his mind wandering somewhere else. “I’ll sit this one out. Why would I want to see people steal? It sounds a little messed up.” Corny’s blue eyes eyed Chris. He frowned. “Are you okay?” The boy with long hair asked Corny. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, I just want to stay here. Go and tell me anything special when you come back.” He said. Chris frowned. “Fine, your loss.” The three left.

The children were all scattered about near the store the newsboy overheard the two girls talked about. At first glance it may have looked normal, but once you start thinking outside the box you realize there’s kids behind crate boxes, girls pretending to talk to each to each other near the horse stalls, and children pretending to read newspapers near the benches next to the store. Chris was right near the front of the store, the two behind him looking bored. “Everyone’s waiting. Do you know where they are?” “Yes, and slap Shane awake.” The long haired boy nudged the sleeping boy. “What… did they take anything yet?” “No! Look!”

A dark skinned and light skinned girl came into the scene, one looking more different than the other. The dark haired one had a baby in her arms. “Alright, I may need to judge your viewings. How do you know?” The long haired boy asked. “Well first off it’s a duo. Duo’s are good. Second off you see the white girl nudging that other girl’s arm… ah now she’s going inside. We’re about to witness the stall.” Chris looked curiously like everyone else.

“Excuse me?” Lavender asked. “What is it?” A man, that didn’t look friendly,looked at her with pissed eyes. “Where is the nearest way to the bathroom?” “...what?” “Why?” “Cause, um, you smell bad.” Some kids tried to hold in their guffaws.

“What?!” “Y-yeah, I-I mean no! I didn’t mean that, sorry.” The children started to burst out laughing. The girl asked more and more questions as the man got more infuriated.

Lavender began to realize how much a lamb to the slaughter she was, but her voice kept raising on like the mans.

Chris frowned. “I feel this is redundant.” The long haired boy said. “Well, it is funny.” Shane said wiping his eyes. “No, that other girl should’ve done the job of stalking.” “Why?” The long haired boy asked. Chris turned to look at him. “Blacks have no personal space.”

Then, when the man was fed up he started cursing a bunch of racial slurs at her, which made everyone quiet. “WHY IN THE NAME OF A WHORE DID THEY THINK TO REPRODUCE BARAARIC ANIMALS.”

Even the people who came in and out quickly shuffled by, not wanting to get caught in the kerfuffle. The air was stiff, and everything smelled of salt and soot. Lavender said nothing but clenched onto Natalie. “We should go…” Shane said. “No.” Chris stated. Then, the man struck Lavender on the face, which stumbled her and the baby onto the floor.

———————————

Mirai went in casually, standing up high, hands behind her back. She’s been there before, and knew who worked there. The man outside, a butcher in the back who also tends the stocks, a woman who checks out the money.

She went to the back, where the glasses of milk were stored. This is so easy. Mirai thought. She put it under her white dress, and could feel the numbness in her skin when the cold pressed onto it.

She turned around to exit when a soldier came in, his mustache white with rosy cheeks. Mirai’s eyes widened and turned the other way and hid behind a shelf of flour.

Her heart pacened, hoping the soldier didn’t see her. She wasn’t exactly all goody goody with the government.

After a few seconds she stood up and hit her head on the shelf over head. She didn’t yell in agony, but a bag of flour fell down on her head. It made a hard thud on her head. He head was throbbing with pain. Dust was everywhere. As she inhaled the fumes it dried in her throat. Flour was drenched in her throat and caused her to choke cough. The odds were never in her favor.

She could feel the step of the soldier’s boots tapping onto the floor. “Hey, who’s there?” He called. In a state of panic, she swooped down and went through the door only employees were allowed in.

Mirai shut it behind her and caught her breath against the door. She took the milk out of her dress and carried it with one arm. She looked around. She had to be careful.

There was an open doorway on the side that led to where people ordered meat, and she really didn’t want to be cooked along with them.

On one side was stocked produce, and on the other dead animals that were stripped from their skins were in stings, some looking clean, some looking bloody. It smelled of metal and glass.

Mirai grimaced and refrained from looking to the dead side. She looked to the shelves of stocked food and saw jars of raspberry jam. She smiled. Lavender likes those.

They were on the top shelf, and she pushed herself up a little, feeling at ease once the air settled in with her. She grabbed the most nicest looking one and smiled to herself. Everything was going more or less perfectly. Everything was fine. Until the ringing of a bell.

The Butcher rang his order bell to signal his next customer. “Your pork’s skinned.” He said. “Oh thank you, quite the show going on with the black girl. I swear children get stupider and stupider each day. I heard her brother got arrested a week ago.” “Well you don’t say.”

Mirai froze. No longer holding onto the edge of the shelf, she was in midair. Her hands shook violently, not knowing what to do. That bell meant it was time to get hurt, time to get locked in the closet, time to cut herself. She didn’t know what to do, she felt paralyzed in the moment. All those times Vincent wasn’t home…

When she was on the floor, and was caught in her trance of what to do. The marmalade jar slipped onto the floor. The glass shattered and it’s contents splattered about onto the floor. The ringing of the bell faded with the clashing of the jar. Mirai’s heart almost stopped. “Who’s there?!” The Butcher yelled walking to the doorway. Mirai looked to the door and tried to go out, but it was locked. How?!

The Butcher walked in and saw the jar on the floor, shattered in pieces. He cursed under his breath, and started picking up the mess. While he was cleaning he felt a shift in the air. He thought it was the glass shaking, but he stopped and listened for a few seconds.

It was like a simple movement made inaudible.

The silence was then broken. “Excuse me, I need to pay!” The woman called from the doorway. “Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” He said walking out the doorway with some broken pieces of glass.

Up on the ceiling, Mirai laid her back onto the wooden board, her hair in tangles and face red.

Mirai was wonderstruck that he didn’t hear her heavy breathing, or anything at all. She was stuck on the ceiling, holding onto the milk for dear life. Only one thing struck across her mind from the Butcher’s conversation. Lavender!

Using her magic she banged the door open and ran out with the milk jar—and a new jar of marmalade— in her hand. “Hey!” The Butcher yelled, the soldier ran after her.

Oh no, no, no. This soldier and Butcher chased her through the store. She tipped over a chair that caused the Butcher to trip on.

—————————-

Let’s resume to what happened with Lavender. “This isn’t right…” Shane said. “Idiotic, just pure idiocy.” Chris muttered. “Chris, that’s not very nice...Chris, Chris!” The long haired boy tried to grab him but he leisurely walked in between the man and Lavender.

Chris shoved him to the ground and whirled around to help Lavender get up. He grabbed the baby first. The child had a small gash on her cheek. When he adjust her into his arm Chris used his free hand to help her up. “You’re real bad at stalling.” “Yeah no hell about it.” She muttered, taking his hand.

Once she steadied herself the man started screaming. “Get out of the way boy.” He spat. “No, the king of thieves code states that if one partner goes down the other one has too.”

Lavender looked at him like he had three heads, while he also had her sister. “You’ve got some nerve to be standing with a black girl.” The man spat. “I frankly don’t care.” “What the hell are they teaching you in school now?! That everything is peaches and cream when it comes to equality.”

Now all the kids were filled with some sort of feeling inside them.

“Well, they’re teaching us to stay away from weirdos like you.” The boy got slapped in the face. Chris stuck up his middle finger in response. Shane sniggered. “That’s our Chris Brown.” “Yeah…”

Before anything else was about to go down the front door slammed open and a white girl covered in flour grabbed Lavender's arm. “We kinda need to leave!” Mirai said.

Lavender was about to run but the man yanked her arm. It hurt like hell. She was the rope in a tug of war.

“EVERYONE ATTACK!” called a boy. Suddenly the children started coming in like some sort of flash mob and unleashed themselves to the man.

Chris took a step back from it and held the baby—who was crying, in his hands. Mirai started to laugh on the spot because how weirdly times it was. Lavender tapped on his shoulder hastily. “Hey, my sister.” “Oh right.” He gave Natalie to her. “Next time, let your white friend do the talking. No point in bringing a bad name to the skin. Don’t show weakness. Plan your questions too.”

Lavender rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask for a lecture on stealing, but alright.” Chris smiled. “Yeah.” “My name’s Lavender.” “Chris.” “...last name?” “I like it when people call me by my first name.” “Oh, alright.” She said. “One more thing, run like hell.” Before Lavender could respond Mirai grabbed her arm and started sprinting out. “WILL DO!” Mirai yelled back in response.

The soldier was behind them, and she could hear more soldiers following after them. “Who’s that boy?” “I don’t know Mirai, just remind me to kill you.” “STOP THERE!” Someone yelled.

The two girls jumped over a wheelbarrow and ran past a carriage. The horse neighed and went berserk in response.

Natalie was bobbing her head up and down. “Well you’re going to have to wait in line.” Mirai said. They took a right and stopped at a dead end.

Mirai felt as if she were to snap. There was a wall. A dead end. “Where are they?” someone called. “I think they went this way.” “Nice knowing you, Mirai.” Lavender said. “No.” Mirai’s adrenaline was pumping through, her keen and stubbornness wasn’t going to end yet.

She squeezed her arm and felt something churn inside her stomach. She could no longer hear anything. It felt like she was in the middle of emptiness, but there was something there. There was noise. Horses. No, their hooves.

Mirai opened her eyes saw herself at the horse’s stable. Lavender was sitting on a pile of hay with Natalie sleeping on her arms, staying motionless.

The jars felt weak in her arms. “That was a nice… fever dream.” Mirai said before dropping to her knees abruptly.

“Mirai!” Lavender bent down and knelt next to her. She nudged her arm. “Mirai, get up.”

Mirai listened and sat up on the floor. “I feel awfully flushed.” She said. “ No doubt about it. I don’t know how we got here. It’s a miracle gifted by God.” Lavender mumbled.

Mirai blinked a few times. “Yeah… oh no.” She stood up. “No, no, this is bad.” She put her hands on her head. She did this. Mirai started pacing up and down the hallway, the horses watched.

“Well I don’t know what you’re doing but we got milk, is THIS what you screwed us up on?!” Lav held up the jam jar. Mirai nodded.

“Obviously.” “Calm down also, I don’t know how we got here, it’s really creepy and weird, but we’re here.” “It’s because of me.” Mirai whispered. Lavender looked at her. “What?” “I did this.” Lavender laughed. “Okay Sherlock. Hey did you know I make the weather happen as well?”

Natalie chugged down the milk like no tomorrow.

Mirai felt exhausted. For once, she felt her magic being drained. And she hardly used it. “Lav, I actually did that. I’m not joking.” Lavender scrunched her nose. “Okay then…”

Our of frustration she went by the doorway. “Watch.” She said. The door stalls for the horses swung open, each one making a cracking thud sound as it hit the pole. Then she slammed all of them closed again, all without even touching the wood.

Lavender froze, staring at Mirai and then at the horses that were going crazy through the witchcraft.

“I was going to say it’s just the wind but….” Lav’s voice trailed off.

Mirai back was slumped and she sat down on the hay. “I don’t think anyone’s here, so this is it.”

She explained everything excluding the beatings, she didn’t want anyone to know about the injuries. They were an embarrassment. “Well, it makes sense”. “What?!” “Yeah. You’re so thick headed. For one don’t pretend I don’t notice the Guards watching us, specifically you for a long while. Also you’re very timid doing certain things like you’re going to piss your pants or something.”

Mirai scratched her head. “I guess…” “I’m glad you told me. Our breaking the law was a success, thank the lord.” “Haha, yeah…”

Mirai smiled. It felt good to tell someone else why she wasn’t normal. She wanted to be normal, because then she could be pretty and maybe her parents would like her. Then she and Vincent could act like normal siblings who fight all the time. However, that wasn’t her life.

Something told Mirai to go home. It was probably because of Vincent. “I should go. See you later.” Mirai said weakly.

She turned around and started to walk out before Lavender said, “Teleportation.” Mirai quirked a brow. “What?”

“Teleportation. That’s the power you attained.” Mirai smiled. “I guess.”

Although this power was something that made Mirai very uneasy, life was actually starting to go her way (a little) for once, and she liked it. Mirai savored the feeling the best she could, though all she wanted to do was sleep.

Vincent ran home and slammed opened the door, the letter crumpled in his hand.

Mirai put on a smile and walked for the next twenty minutes from home. She was starving, tired, and restless.

She passed a poor old homeless woman and waved, she waved back. She took a left through a curved bridge and saw their big, bold, and grand house. She fumbled with door before opening.

This girl could hear her mother laughing her ugly terrible laugh. She could smell her father’s smoke from his cigars.

She walked into the foyer and saw Vincent, and her face lit up. Then she saw her parents in front of him sitting on the dining table, and her head sank.

“I can’t believe it Rowan! You actually did it-“ “Wait to go son! That’ll show those lords how smart and ambitious my son is.” “What’s going on…” Mirai said softly.

“You’ll have to pack now! Six months is a long time.”

Mirai’s heart raced. Six months?! What? “What’s going on?!” She yelled. Everyone turned to her. She saw Vincent’s enigmatic smile and the cold stares of her parents.

“Where’s Vincent going?” “That‘s Merger to you.” The servant spat behind her. The servant started working assigned from the government, she helped with Mirai’s chores but mainly she made sure. Mirai didn’t do anything magical all day.

“He’s leaving next week to Collins!” Father cried happily. Mirai’s has dropped. “Collins!? But that’s-“ “Six thousand nine hundred and eighty miles from here!” Mother said gleefully. The two laughed while Vincent told them to stop.

Mirai’s heart dropped to her stomach. She felt like she was going to throw up. She stared up at him straight in the eye, her eyes already watering. “Mirai…” he started to say.

Vincent then realized why this wasn’t going to work.

[divineangelix]

Title: Look After You (pt.1)

Fandom: Supernatural

Timeframe: season 14

Series Summary: Dean knew how his story would end — with him and an archangel trapped in a coffin at the bottom of the pacific. He also knew he would go through with this plan and never tell anyone about it, and for good reason. If his fiancé knew about his suicidal plan she would do everything in her power to stop him. She wants a life with him and he wants a life with her but is that how this story will end?

Characters: Dean Winchester, Female!OC, Sam Winchester (mentioned)

Music Referenced: Vienna - Billy Joel

Paring: Dean Winchester x Female!OC

Warnings For Pt.1: slight angst, fluff

Word Count:

There was a curious glimmer in the shallows of Dean’s green eyes as he watched the woman shuffle around the small confinement’s of their shared room. To him it never mattered how many years he got to know the inside and outside of this complex creature, he was always stunned by the seeping light that invaded the darkness of his soul when he looked upon her.

As she tucked the thin sheets under the mattress he caught glimpse of the diamond ring that sparked on her left hand’s ring finger — the ring that he placed there.

She hummed a simple tune as she kept her ‘hard at work’ rhythm. Dean recognizes it instantly, ‘Vienna by billy Joel.’ He thought as he reminisced the lyrics while she hummed the tune.

‘Slow down, you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?’

In hearing the soft strumming of her vocal cords he couldn’t help but to watch her silently while he leaned against the wood of the door frame.

‘But you know that when the truth

is told that you can get what

you want or you could just get old.

You're gonna kick off before you even

get half way through.’

He remembered the time when she expressed to him the reason she held this song to her heart so dearly. Her mother was a huntress and one of the last things she remembers about her mother was this song whispered off her mother’s dying lips. The content and peaceful smile upon her lips as she hummed made a warmness course through the older Winchester, something he’s never grown accustomed to because he’s never met someone as special as the woman standing in front of him. He was snapped out of his trance with the plaguing thought of what was to come next. Pain, heartbreak.

Dean’s vision of the room became blurry as a scream followed by banging pounded against his skull. Michael was becoming too much and he knew one day he would get the better of him. The hunter wanted nothing more than to settle down, marry, and have children, but with the threat of the archangel taking control again it made that potential future impossible.

He could never hold his and Lydia’s baby if the pounding became too much, he could never feel happiness without the constant reminder of what Billie handed him only yesterday. It’s not just the world he would be putting at stake, it would be his family too. A grunt left his lips as he gripped the side of his head, trying to silence the constant banging in his head.

Once Lydia heard Dean’s pain she immediately stopped her working and looked over her shoulder to see the man she’s grown to love. His eyes were squinted and his eyebrows were knitted together in a scowl. He wasn’t in any way, shape, or form, upset with her — she knows that. She also knows that the culprit of this pain was the archangel trapped inside her fiancé’s head.

“Are you okay?” She questioned softly as she walked to him and got in her toes to kiss the side of his head.

Her kind act made Dean smile lightly, but it was back to his uncontrollable agony not even a second later. Lydia took this opportunity to softly brush her lips against his and as she did this, the pain stopped. Michael’s threats and yelling in his mind melted away instantly at the friction of her lips on his. Dean sighed in content as he kissed her back without hesitation, his burdened heart pumping wildly within his broad chest.

Lydia pulled away and wrapped her arms securely around his waist. In the act of bringing her body closer to his she laid her ear on top of his chest to listen to his heart, wanting nothing more than to hear the steady beat of it, “You wanna lay down?” She questioned glancing up at him from under her long lashes.

Dean brought his hand to the small of her back to keep her close to him. He could feel the tightness of his throat and the stinging that surrounded his eyes as he tried to speak, but no words were coming out. His heart was slowly cracking and he had to leave before she changed his mind. No matter how selfish it sounds, he wishes he could stay like this forever but he’s already chosen that he can’t.

He cleared his throat and began to speak, “I was actually going to head up to Donna’s cabin, have some one on one of time with my mom for a bit.”

Lydia could tell there was more to his story but she simply decided to push it aside for now, “Do you want me to come with? Cause I just finished the laundry and cleaning so it would only take me a few minutes to pa-.”

“No, uh, just me and my mom this time,” Dean interrupted her confusing the woman and making it blatantly obvious that he was hiding something, “Sammy will keep you company.”

Taking opportunity of her silence Dean entangled his hand in her curly brown locks and brought her head to his lips. Nothing was better expressed in silence than love so he pressed his kisses to her forehead, to each of her closed eyes, onto the button of her nose, and finally lingering on her plump lips. Each place where his lips feathered across her skin alit with a beautiful fire.

Her eyes slowly opened and her lips parted as she let out a short exhale of breath. She was almost paralyzed by the amount of affection she was receiving. If she wasn’t gripping onto the plaid fabric of his shirt her legs may have gave out from under her. It’s not that he’s never done things like this before but never to this extent and in this little of time. That’s when she realized - something is wrong.

“How long are you going to bottle it all up Dean?” Lydia whispered pressing her forehead to his, “I can’t even begin to imagine the things you’re dealing with but-,”

His stance became defensive as he held her, “So don’t imagine it.” He stated plainly, once Dean registered what he had said he closed his eyes and sighed, soothing the raging storm inside him, “Sorry, its just this noise in my head,” He paused looking into the kindness of her brown eyes, “He won’t stop trying to claw his way out.”

When Lydia looked at her beloved she felt the sadness radiating off of him she stood there consuming his emotions. When the light reflected from her eyes Dean could see that they were no longer glistening with happiness but were instead glassy with unshed tears.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart,” He whispered lifting her chin up to meet his softened gaze, “We’re going to make it through this: you, me, Sam, and Cass. We’ll all be just fine.”

Dean’s promise was forced. He knew how his story would end — trapped with an archangel in a coffin at the bottom of the pacific. There is no changing this because death herself said this would be his fate.

A small smile itches itself onto Lydia’s lips causing Dean to instantly forget about his struggles and instead feel like a love struck school kid all over again, “You better come back home safe, cowboy.”

After saying this Lydia turned back to finish the bed but before she could get to her destination Dean Winchester twirled her and once again kissed her on the lips gingerly. When their lips parted the room was enveloped with Lydia’s giggles. After witnessing the joy he caused a few chuckles decided to rumble their way up Deans’s throat.

The couple’s laughs echoed around the bunker, bringing a sense of home to the ones that resided there. Sam heard their laughs from down the hall and in hearing this it placed one large smile on the youngest Winchester’s lips.

“I’ll help you pack,” Lydia offered, “Lord knows you always forget something when you pack for yourself.”

Dean walked began his walk a few paces behind Lydia as she gathered his things and threw or rather ‘neatly’ placed them into his duffel bag. Just as she was about to zipper it up she felt two strong arms snake their way around her tiny frame, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lids.” Dean sighed, as he hugged her from behind.

His face was buried into her hair as he breathed in the coconut scent of her freshly washed curls. Once she finished with his bag she brought her left hand up and fiddled with the brown spiky hair that littered Dean’s head. She turned herself around in his arms so the she was facing him. Her hand left his hair and moved slowly down his cheekbone. As she did this the cold metal of her engagement ring brushed lightly against the stubble that covered his cheeks.

She lightly traced the bottom of his lip with her thumb as she whispered her goodbye, “You come back to me, Dean Winchester. You hear me?”

Dean closed his eyes as he listened to her voice. He felt her, she was right here. Someday in the near future she wouldn’t be. And, someday she would move on and show this same affection to some other man. He doesn’t deserve this beautiful woman in front of him. Deep down he knows she deserves another man, a man who can give her everything she’s ever wanted.

[jazelthegentle]

Sweat, Gold, and Tears Pt 1

The gangway stretched out over the pier before dropping onto the wooden platform with a heavy smack. A chorus of footsteps rocked the old galleon as a hundred Kaldorei stepped out from the darkness. Still covered in the ashes of their beloved home, and kin, they shuffled down the gangway with barely a word spoken among them. Stormwind residents gathered to stare at the latest batch of refugees being corralled down the docks. Displaced, starving, and in mourning, the Night Elves kept their eyes on the ground, their voices in hushed whispers, and their faces soaked with dirty tears. All but the Tideclaws.

Sayuune looked no better off than the rest of them, but she kept her head held high. A month at sea didn't do her any favors; it had been days since she had access to drinkable water, and nearly a week since she had something solid to eat. Her exhausted eyes were bright with hard headed determination, and her face was as still as stone, yet she staggered and stumbled with every other step. 

Her daughter Nodas was faring better, but not by much; her stomach growled loudly and often, while her hungry gaze was fixed on the bands of mercenaries and sellswords who otherwise ignored the flood of incoming refugees. They went about their business in gilded armor and glimmering steel, with swollen coin purses swinging freely from their waists. Surely a few of them wouldn't notice if some of their riches went missing.

"Hello! Hello hello!" Humans descended upon the shuffling crowd pushing or pulling large empty carts. One such creature approached Sayuune and Nodas with an uncomfortable twinkle in his grin. The opulent rings adorning his hands could only mean one thing - merchants seizing an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate. "You need gold! I need moon elf items my collection! We trade be happy!" His Darnassian was awful, but clear enough to understand. Sayuune saw other refugees trading in what little rags they had for copper and silver coins, desperate for a bite to eat and drinkable water. 

The last thing Sayuune wanted to part with was her bramblestaff; not only was it a priceless family heirloom, it was one of the only things she had left of her husband. Reluctantly she raised the staff for the merchant to inspect. "How much will this get me?"

"Mom?!" Nodas hissed, her eyes flaring. "What are you doing?!" She squeezed her daughter's hand to get her to quiet down. 

"We need food."

Unsurprisingly he ripped them off. A staff easily worth twelve thousand gold was traded for less than three."What choice do I have…" When they reached the front of the line, Nodas was relieved to find a fellow Kaldorei sitting behind the desk, but Sayuune wasn't so easily pleased.

"Ishnu-alah, sisters." His dull yellow eyes scanned them both with a most unusual scrutiny. "My name is Lieutenant Armin Ashquiver. I'll need your names."

"Sayuune and Nodas Tideclaw." The mother proudly stated; they could take her home, her belongings, even her family, but their names would forever be theirs. He scribbled down their names in silence, adding them to the long list of poor displaced souls now forced to live in this strange and hostile city.

"There's a soup kitchen at the camps you'll be staying in. Courtesy of His Majesty." He looked up at Sayuune. "Plenty of jobs out there for a steady income, but they're filling up fast. I know you're tired, but I'd recommend looking before nightfall." He pulled out a piece of paper and planted a red stamp on the bottom. "Enjoy your stay in Stormwind City."

The goopy slop poorly masquerading as soup was a grievous insult to the Kaldorei people, but it was still the best meal she's had since Teldrassil. Nodas ate more than her fair share and fell asleep before their tent was even made, but that hardly mattered to her mother; she was just happy her daughter was finally resting. Sayuune, however, couldn’t rest. Once the tent was built around her snoozing daughter, she departed to the streets of Stormwind to find work.

Shop by shop, street by street, she was hit with disappointment again, and again, and again. Day in, day out, sunset to sunset.

"Sorry we're not looking for applicants right now!"

"I'd love to give you a job but I'm full already!"

"I can't hire you right off the street!"

"A buddy of mine across the city might be interested in extra help."

"Sorry, but we can't - what will my wife think hiring a woman like you?"

"Can't hire an elf around here. I got my reputation to uphold… you understand, right?"

"Yeah babe I can hire you, heheh… how much for the night?"

"You're filthy! Beat it vagrant!"

Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of asking. Two weeks of nothing. 

Every time she was turned away, the fake smile and forced persona was whittled down. Nightfall came and went, leaving her exhausted in the Mage Quarter courtyard. Her feet were screaming for rest and she could no longer ignore them; she found the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it with a well-earned sigh of relief. The gold she earned selling her most prized possession was almost all gone; determination was turning into desperation, and if she didn’t find work soon, her daughter would begin to starve. For now her search would have to be put on hold until the shops reopened in the morning.

A woman eased herself down onto the bench beside Sayuune. Her fragrance was alluring but she couldn't recognize the scent, her silk clothes looked as expensive as the jewelry covering her hands and fingers; her painted nails were quite long, almost impractically so. She made Sayuune feel like a vagrant more than anyone else she's met in this abysmal city. "Hard time finding work?" The stranger asked with a seductively soothing voice. Sayuune was compelled to meet her gaze, but her words caught in her throat the moment she was confronted by her striking beauty; if she wasn't a Highborne, she could fool Sayuune.

"I…" Her timid mutter stirred the stranger to smile, her dark purple lips grinning from ear to ear.

Sayuune didn't notice the woman's hand until her nails traced the base of her chin. "Stunning, aren't I? There isn't a man alive that can resist my delectable charm. The dead ones aren't immune to it either." Sayuune wanted to pull away from her grip, but she felt paralyzed… mesmerized. "But look at you… these high cheekbones… these full lips… these glimmering eyes. You're quite the looker yourself, honey. How long do you plan on wandering these streets like a beggar when you can rule the underground scene like a queen?"

"What… do you…" It was difficult to speak when she gazed into her eyes, almost feeling like she was lost in a sea of swirling quicksilver.

The stranger's smile only grew. "I want to help you get back on your feet. I help run a little organization that's in serious need of gorgeous and flexible women like us. Interested?"

"An escort service?" That was enough to pull Sayuune out of her trance to rise to her throbbing feet. "I can't do that. To even approach me like… I can't. I have a husband I'm waiting on to return from the war… a daughter that looks up to me…"

"A shame." Her tone suddenly changed, as did the frigid expression on her face. "While you wait on your doting man, you and your daughter starve." She rose, towering over Sayuune in her jade heels. "Should you come to your senses, seek out the ugliest worgen you come across in Old Town." An uncomfortable grin spread across her lips. "Tell them Momma sent you." Before Sayuune could speak, Momma tossed a coin purse at her chest. "That's how much my girls can earn in a night. Sleep on it." 

Sayuune watched as the elegant woman turned and strode off, presumably to another potential recruit. She waited until she was gone before opening the coin purse. "Impossible!" Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred gold?! She's lying…!" With that kind of income most of her problems would be over. Her and her daughter would eat better than they ever did; her husband would bring back two to three grand every two months… she could out earn that within weeks! Within days!

"No…" Sayuune closed her eyes and shuddered. "To betray Vilaron like this… I couldn't! How could I look him in the eyes if I… sold my body...?" 

The journey back to the refugee camps was unbearably long. Her imagination played cruel games by asking her questions she didn't want the answers to. "What if Vilaron doesn't make it back in time before we starve to death? What if this woman already approached Nodas? What if she is being used by one of her 'clients' at this very moment?! What if she refused and they killed her?!"

Sayuune ignored the burning ache in her feet from sprinting back to the camps, darting through alleyways and ducking through corridors to get back to her daughter as quickly as possible. The soft glowing campfires down the hill only hastened her steps until she was almost gliding down the path to reach her tent.

She swung open the drape with an audible gasp, and her fears were put to rest; Nodas stirred in her hammock and mumbled under her breath, her feet blackened and calloused from wandering the streets as well. Yet her face was still wet with tears from crying herself to sleep. As Sayuune caught her breath and quietly approached her, she noticed the crumbled scroll still in her grip. Gently she wiggled it free from Nodas' hand, pulled it taut between her fingers, and read the distinct Darnassian letters neatly sprawled across the parchment.

To Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw,

I regret to inform you the Sentinels recovered the body of one Vilaron Tideclaw. He will be delivered within the month so you can send him off properly.

Elune will grant us justice. 

-L. Armin Ashquiver

Sayuune only made it halfway through the letter before she was blinded by her tears. The shock of this news hit her in waves, crashing against her composure like the tide against the cliffside; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, wishing he left with them when Teldrassil burned. Wishing she could go back in time and save him.

Wishing she was dead.

Yet Sayuune endured - she had to. With a sharp inhale and a weak sniffle, she swallowed her anguish for her daughter's sake, stepped out of the tent, and wrapped her arms around herself. Others receiving similar news took it worse than she did; their screams carried across the farmland and over the pointed tents, filling the air with sorrow so palpable she could taste it every time she licked her lips.

Nodas is all she has left of her beloved Vilaron. She is willing to die for her, now more than ever; if she can lay down her life for her daughter, surely she could lay down her dignity as well. What choice did she have? Every day she spends wasting her time looking for honest work, her daughter goes hungry. "For Nodas… no price is too great…"

With a slight grimace on her face and a shiver up her spine, Sayuune braced herself for the hardship she would endure in the unknowable future. 

[hyunnielix]

The Night We Met

Based on the song ‘The Night We Met’ By Lord Huron

Hawthorne and Miss Robichaux's Academy become intertwined, helping each other by learning off one and other. However, you learn about Michaels plan and have to bid him a farewell unable to support him through his decisions.

Pairing: Michael x Y/N

Warnings: Best-Friend!Michael, Painful Angst, Heartbreak, Choking, TW: Physical Abuse, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 2k

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

“Familiarize yourselves with each other briefly, shortly dinner will commence,” Cordelia announced re-explaining the current situation as if you were stupid, she wore all white with a classy but overdramatic cape to signify how she was the Supreme.

You sat wedged between Zoe and Madison as your small coven sat on the multiple couches spread around the, you almost wanted to call it a study, books filled the shelves all the way up to the ceiling. It was definitely an acquired taste with an outdated fireplace along with a twisted metal staircase leading to another compartment of the enormous place.

Your whole coven was waiting for the warlocks, who seemed to be taking their sweet time arriving. This was their damn academy you’d think they would be a little bit more professional.

“Punctuality, males have none do they?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes while you fiddled with your hands that were placed uncomfortably on your lap. You tended to become bored easily so sitting for long periods of wasted time was definitely not your forte.

You were the most hesitant towards the intertwining of both the academies, not wanting the males with their inflated ego’s and cocky attitudes ruin your reputation and your coven’s. 

“Y/N watch your tongue around them, although we are farther superior than their kind we have to honour the truce we have recently agreed to,” Myrtle scolded you, her orange crimped hair moving as she shook her head adjusting the glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, pushing them up slightly.

“You wouldn’t want to start a world war three already, would you?” Madison deadpanned, removing her gaze off her nearly perfect manicured nails to side-eye you as a smirk grew on her face.

“Depends, I’m in the mood for a little hell-raising,” You arrogantly smiled at Cordelia, tilting your head as if to test the waters of her tolerance.

Multiple pairs of shoes clicking against the tiles caught your attention, a short man donning a top hat and maroon black cape stood before all of the warlocks who were dressed in proper tuxedos eagerly waiting to be let in, you assumed he was the chancellor.

“Ariel, Behold,” Cordelia introduced, gesturing to enter the room as all of your fellow witches arose from their seats getting ready to probably playfully entice them and flirt their way to death.

Unphased by all of the males, you slithered your way to the back corner of the room, you back hitting the books on the way down to the floor letting your body collapse with exhaustion.

Trying and failing at keeping yourself entertained, you closed your eyes letting out a frustrated sigh as the noise of chattering started to get on your nerves.

A cough broke you from your trance, Gaze starting at a pair of shiny black shoes you followed up the figure to be met with a strawberry blonde haired blue-eyed prince charming look-alike.

“Being unsociable at a gathering isn’t lady-like,” He observed a ghost of a smile on his pinkish tinted lips as he leant over you almost intimidatingly.

“Is that all you came to say?” You questioned, peering up at the warlock with blatant uninterest while balling yourself up even more uncomfortably.

“Sorry, how rude of me I’m Michael Langdon,” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to reach for, like a gentleman.

Taking his hand in yours, he helped pull you up from the floor the personal space was almost non-existent as you began to introduce yourself to him.

“Y/N, L/N,” You replied, furrowing your brows in cautiousness unable to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, you weren’t used to people paying attention to you.

Fast forward to today, eavesdropping was something you casually did and definitely weren’t proud of but in some cases, it had previously saved you from the peril of this godforsaken world. 

Noticing Michael’s absence from dinner, you decided to follow him loosely after he passed the dining room, confused to as why he would be going to the surface at this time of night.

The atmosphere was freezing, the wind brushing up against the trees and fresh air entering your lungs almost made you feel normal.

Hiding by the entrance of the academy, Michael paused gazing over his shoulder, for a second you stopped breathing surely thinking he had spotted you.

Continuing on, he began to skip towards a figure in the distance who was significantly shorter than him, squinting you tried to identify them without any luck.

Sneaking in the opposite direction, you decided to make a bolt towards the trees as it would give you enough camouflage and noise range so you could hear the both of them.

“Oh my boy, look at you, you’re skin and bones, you’re wasting away do they even feed you?” She asked, releasing him from the tight embrace they currently shared.

Michael smiled a true genuine joy-struck expression on his face, you hadn’t seen that smile in ages. You guessed the woman dressed in all black was someone precious to him from his childhood that he never spoke about.

“I’m fine just tell me you took care of the problem,” He fretted, placing his hands on both of her shoulders desperately praying for a good outcome, the predicament he was in had caused him more harm than he bargained for.

“Your problem is now an overstacked country barbeque, you can bury him in a shoe box if they can find him,” She rambled on, laughing a bit as relief flooded his face.

Letting out a small gasp, you covered your mouth petrified that you would accidentally give away your position. Who did they kill?

“Good, these people are the only ones who could pose a threat to me, once I become supreme I can destroy them from within and eliminate their whole fucking coven, then the road is clear for what I'm supposed to do.” He passionately spoke, his eyes nearly igniting with fire as he tried to reassure himself and his ally. 

You didn’t understand why wouldn’t he tell you, that's what being best friends meant right? Keeping secrets from each other was beneath the both of you or so you thought.

“So stop worrying, look how easy it was for you to win their trust and get into their school,” The woman exclaimed, convincing him that everything was going according to plan.

Eyes widening and having heard enough, you scrambled to your feet making a bit more noise than you intended to do whilst trying to escape being unnoticed. Gaining both the attention of him and the woman, you continued to sprint for your life back to the academy.

“Y/N?” Michael whispered, sighing once he saw your fleeing body before returning his gaze to Ms Mead.

“I’ll take care of her,” He muttered, reassuring her before taking off after you.

By the time you had returned to the academy, everyone was asleep but the thoughts racing in your head prevented you having some piece of mind.

You knew Michael had seen you, it was only a matter of time before he came to talk to you. Sensing his presence, you stood up refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Y/N, what you heard, I was going to tell you eventually-,” He scratched his head, awkwardly smiling hoping that you would understand.

“Stop it, You can’t do this.” You warned, paralyzed in the spot you were in. Your brain was screaming at you to leave but your body stayed put.

“We could be together, rule together,” He explained, furrowing his brows as your reaction astounded him, he was not expecting this from you.

He was being naive again, it was one of his many faults.

“You don’t understand Michael!” You shouted, the sudden outburst making him take a step back unaware of your assertive side. You had never raised your voice at him once in the time you knew each other.

“I’m not betraying my whole entire coven, my friends and family just for you.” Your chest heaved, head dizzying as you tried to calm yourself down so you could suppress the oncoming panic attack, your hands were already shaking and sweaty.

To him, those words felt like poison on his tongue, he almost flinched before reciprocating with an even more heartbreaking sentiment.

“Am I not worth it?” He seethed snarling in your direction, unclenching his fist as he didn’t want to hurt you, trying to control his bubbling anger.

“Because I’m sick and fucking tired of being told I am nothing, you don’t understand how hard it is with everyone underestimating me and having to deal with the constant abandonment of people I care about,” He raised his voice as almost as if he was scolding you gesturing with his hands almost violently.  

“In the end, they always leave,” He bitterly stated, his icy blue eyes softening as he left you completely and utterly speechless.

You tilted your head feeling pity- or was it sympathy for him? Half of your mind was fighting against all the reasons you should stay and the other half was creating new outcomes for the same deadly choices.

“I’m sorry, but I have to let you go, that is my final decision.” You shakily exhaled, backing away slowly from him your gaze focused elsewhere as you didn’t want to see his reaction to your rejection.

“But I love you,” He pleaded as if he could use it as an excuse for all the wrongdoings he was going to commit. 

Clasping your hand over your mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a cry allowing the pent-up overwhelming feelings wash over you. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as he pulled you into his chest allowing you to use him as comfort.

“Why must you do this to me?,” You questioned, banging your fist against his chest until finally pushing him away from you almost disgustedly.

“You’re the antichrist, you’re incapable of love,” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth, but nothing could take them back it didn’t take you long to connect the dots.

“How do you know that?” He inquired, resting his hands by his side as he clenched his jaw looking down almost in shame.

He had been acting up for months, being secretive as well as muttering Latin words during the night that once you wrote down realised were satanic ritual spells.

“This is just another manipulation tactic,” You mumbled on, trying to believe in the words you were saying.

“No, Y/N you can’t possibly believe that,” He argued, his chin trembled not wanting to take another step or he believed it would scare you off. 

“You want to take over the world, exterminate society and every single living human or supernatural being with a family who is worthy of being loved just like you were,” You hissed, any hint of remorse for him disappearing in the snap of your fingers.

“Were?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly he was looking even more broken with every word you uttered.

“Don’t make this any harder for me,” You exhaled, refusing to wipe the remnants of the tears off your cheeks while you stared blankly at him.

“Even if I did take you with me, you don’t deserve to live,” He laughed almost psychotically, striding towards you his eyes flickered black his demeanour had changed in less than a second.

He reached out, clasping his palm around your throat he began to put immense pressure on it lifting your body weight in the process you dangled from above, struggling to breathe as you fought against his grip, letting out choked cries.

“M-Michael, please you don’t need to do this,” You forced out, he was cutting off the circulation around your body.

“Oh but I do I’m the anti-christ remember darling? That’s exactly what you called me am I not correct?” He asked, leaning his face closer to you so you could feel his breath.

“You’re not the Michael I used to know-,” You cried out, barely holding onto conscientious he finally released you, your body collapsing like a house of cards on the floor head lolling back as you tried to stay awake.

Bringing your hand up to feel your throat, you whimpered the last thing you saw was his face but instead it was pasty white, cracked and unhuman like. A face of a demon.

[mathiaskillmaster]

My GOT Ending: Battle of Winterfell (Episode 3 Season 8) Part 3

After a fierce fight and having successfully barricaded the doors of the crypts, Arya leads Sandor, Davos, Beric, Jaime, Brienne and Gendry towards the secret underground. All can see that Sansa has already taken all the refugees for a long time, the crypt being deserted. Ghost goes first, followed by Arya. Behind them, the dead pound the doors to knock them down and seem to be about to get there. Further underground, Sansa and Gilly continue to lead the inhabitants through the darkness of the tunnel, getting closer to the exit. Missandei and Varys stay in the middle while Tyrion, Samwell and Podrick go on the march. But suddenly, a wight that had managed to come in and follow them emerges from the shadows screaming and throws himself on Tyrion who finds himself plastered on his back, the face of the dead almost stuck to his. Samwell and Podrick intervene and push the dead man back. Sam kills him with a dagger in his head, while Podrick helps Tyrion get up, grateful to both men. ********* For his part, Jorah continues to run as fast as he can, while around him, the wights rain without end from the top of the ramparts and pour into the streets, slaughtering even more soldiers. Jorah can see with horror, unsullied and dothrakis transformed into living corpses and beating down on their surviving comrades. A large mass of these walking corpses spot and rush on him. In a reflex, the Andal knight closes the iron grate in front of him, blocking access to this part of the castle. The wights throw themselves, in a larger and larger group, against the grates, rubbing and tearing the flesh of their faces against the iron. Jorah remains for a moment, breathing hard and remaining paralyzed with fear at the sight in front of him. These dozens of zombies glued to the gate and climbing each other, staring at him with their soulless blue eyes, growling like wild beasts, and holding out their hands through the bars to try to grab him. Jorah then notes that the hinges of the grid begin to slowly give way under the growing weight of the corpses. It will not last very long, he knows it. After a frantic race, Jorah comes out of breath in the sacred wood, to find Theon, Alys, the ironborn soldiers, all perplexed and worried. Behind them, Bran is still is trance. _"Ser Jorah?" Asked Theon, cut off immediately by the Andal knight, out of breath, who seized him on the shoulder. Farther on, the din of the grating yielding and tumbling on the ground with a roar, makes Jorah shudder with horror. _ "The dead are coming ... we must leave immediately!" Wights are coming closer and closer to the entrance of the sacred grove, their infinite growls being heard. But suddenly, Bran seems to react in his trance and brings back a protective and very ancient magic from the ancestral tree. The walls and the entrance of the sacred wood are thus impregnated with the same magic that protected the cavern of the old three-eyed raven. Immediately, the wights passing the entrance of the wood or attempting to climb the walls are sprayed. Seeing this, the undead stop at the entrance of the wood. ******** In the sky, Rhaegal begins to show serious signs of exhaustion, against Viserion still vigorous and enraged that begins to take over. But Daenerys and Drogon reappear and again, start the fight against Viserion. Daenerys unfortunately sees Rhaegal in a sorry state and that he begins to sink dangerously into the void. The Queen of Dragons, despite the anxiety, continues to lead Drogon against Viserion, who does not seem ready to be defeated. Drogon in a bite manages to snatch half of the flesh from Viserion's face, exposing his roaring skull. ******** On the ground, Jon and the Night King continue their duel, but the king of the dead is much stronger and experienced. Jon is often forced to dodge. Every shot he blocks makes his bones shake, showing the physical strength of the white walkers king. Valyrian steel and magical ice shock in powerful blows and resonate in the night. Unfortunately, a violent, well-placed blow sends Jon flying for several meters and crashing into the snow, half-stunned. The Night King then sheaths his sword and suddenly raises his arms, triggering his terrible necromancer power. With horror, Jon sees the hundreds of corpses covering the field begin to convulse, then open their blue eyes without expressions, and get up little by little, forming new dead-alive troops. Inside Winterfell, the same macabre spectacle is reproduced. Alone and seeing these hundreds of dead now turning to him, Jon feels that it is the end, but decides to fight until the end. But Rhaegal, although wounded and weak, arrives from the sky and lands just behind Jon. The latter seizes the opportunity and climbs immediately on the back of the dragon who flies with him, out of reach of the wights. The Night King seeing this, made Viserion come to him. The undead dragon arrives, having managed to free himself from the fight against Drogon. The Night King climbs on the back of Viserion and chases Jon and Rhaegal. Daenerys arrives, to see Jon and Rhaegal fly off and away from Winterfell. Daenerys understands the ploy. Jon keeps the Night King away from Winterfell so everyone can escape. Also deciding to give the survivors time, Daenerys decides to trust Jon and gives free rein to Drogon's fury. The dragon watered Winterfell's fields in a deluge of flames, destroying hundreds of new, reanimated corpses, most of them made up of northern soldiers, but also of dothrakis and unsullied ones. The heart of Daenerys breaks as she finds herself forced to burn her own old troops. Jon on Rhaegal continues to move away from Winterfell in the air, the Night King pursuing him relentlessly with Viserion. Unfortunately, the Night King manages to throw another ice javelin, which this time, reaches Rhaegal at the ribs. Roaring with pain, the dragon loses altitude and crashes violently in the snow. Jon is ejected forward and rolls in the snow, sounded. Desiring to finish it, the Night King orders Viserion to spit a brutal breath of flames, which he does. The body of Rhaegal, dying, is destroyed by the blue fire covering it fully, and Jon manages to escape by throwing himself behind rocks. Finding the facts, the Night King and Viserion turn back, towards Winterfell, to the great damn Jon who is now lost in the wilderness, in the middle of the storm. ******** Sansa and the inhabitants finally reached the exit of the tunnel, leading them not far from the city of White Harbor. But then they hear suspicious noises coming from the crypts. Ready to defend themselves, it is with relief that they see Arya, Beric, Sandor, Davos, Jaime, Brienne, Ghost and Gendry also out of the underground. Arya and Sansa hug with strength, reassured to see each other alive. But the reunion is shortened by the arrival a legion of wights having bypassed Winterfell and now rushing on them. But as they approached, the creatures are all swept by powerful flames emerging from the ground as if by magic. All are stunned, with the exception of Beric, who recognizes this particular magic. From the darkness of the storm emerge Melisandre and Kinvara, the two priestesses, accompanied by a dozen other priests and red priestesses. _"My ladies," Beric greeted them with great respect. Arya recognizes in Melisandre the red woman who had kidnapped Gendry and although grateful for her intervention, gives her a glare. Varys, Brienne and Davos also recognize her, while Tyrion recognizes Kinvara who gives him a brief salute. _"What are you doing there?" Arya asks with a little suspicion. Melisandre smiles and speaks. _"We are here by the will of the lord of the light, the war against the darkness must continue, each of us having a role to play ..." _ "But what fucking roles are you talking about?!" Sandor abruptly interrupted her, at the edge of the nervous breakdown. "You don't see that it's screwed?! We just got our asses kicked! Winterfell fell! It's over!" Melisandre was not taken aback by the words of the Limier and remained calm. _"As long as life remains, so is hope, Sandor Clegane." she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Nothing is lost yet, it is not today that you will die." Sandor remained puzzled by this statement, as many did. _"No time to lose, White Harbor is not very far away." Sansa urged, getting approval from a lot of people. Melisandre, Kinvara and the red priests join them as escorts. ********* At Winterfell, devastated by chaos, Viserion lands in the ruined yard of the castle, and the Night King sets foot on the ground, surrounded by wights that deviate to lethim pass. Accompanied by the white walkers, The Night King advances to the entrance of the sacred wood, to feel the protective magic invoked by Bran. The Night King places his hand on the ground, creating a crack that spreads over the rock and violently hits the protective barrier. Although strucked mentally by the impact, Bran resists and gets out of his trance, to talk to Jorah and Theon. _"The Night King is here, he's trying to get in. I don't think I can hold him back indefinitely." Other shocks occur in Bran's mind. The Night King insists heavily and will not stop. Bran resists as much as possible, but after several minutes of fierce fighting, the barrier breaks. The Night King, the white walkers and the wights begin to advance in the sacred wood, at the sight of Theon, Jorah, Alys and the ironborns, ready to fight. The Night King first sends the wights to the assault. Armed with bows and fiery arrows, Theon, Alys and the ironborns fire at will, shooting down all the undead on approach. Jorah stays with Bran to serve as his last defense. However, the number of dead is increasing and already several ironborns are put to the ground and massacred by the creatures. Theon soon finds himself fighting in hand-to-hand combat, killing several wights. Alys is also thrown to the ground and impaled by several zombies at once in a sheaf of blood. Jorah grit his teeth at the carnage while Bran remains calm and unmoved. While all seems lost, a roar is heard and Drogon rises above the sacred wood and lands near the tree. _ "Come with me!!" Daenerys screamed to them, perched on the back of the dragon. Jorah seems hesitant and turns to Theon. _"Go ahead, I'll hold them back!" said the ironborn prince, finishing a wight on the ground. Seeing the dragon, the Night King and the white walkers begin to advance, their weapons in hand. Although hesitant to leave him, Jorah addresses a sincere nod to Theon, then takes Bran in his arms. Daenerys helps him to pull himself up with Bran on Drogon's back. The dragon flies away, taking Dany, Bran and Jorah out of reach of danger. Theon remains alone, the only survivor of the massacre, to find himself encircled by the dead. His face shows surprise and horror as he recognizes one of the wights standing among them. Hodor! The nice giant remained serving the Stark family. He stood there, decomposed and with blue eyes. The Night King arrives in his turn and looks at Theon. Knowingly condemned, Theon does not cry, and armed with a spear, rushes screaming with all his strength on the king of the walkers. The latter against without difficulty the young man, breaking the spear in two and impaled Theon with the broken tip. Paralyzed in pain, Theon does not scream, does not beg, the blood flowing from his mouth and addresses one last determined look at the Night King, before collapsing dead at his feet. In the air, on Drogon's back, Bran whispers these words for his fallen friend. _ "You were a good man, Theon ..... thank you ...." After taking a final look at Theon's last breath of life, the Night King steps forward, spearing the dragon's blue eyes away from the night sky, then turns around, followed by the other white walkers and the army of undead. ********* Meanwhile, Jon continues to roam alone and lost in the middle of the moors in the storm. Armed with Long Claw, the young man advances as best he can against the wind, in the thick snow. But as he walks, Jon suddenly sees the silhouettes of a troop of riders on approach. Thinking of white walkers, Jon is preparing to fight. But it is with astonishment that he sees men alive, in gilded armor, and pointing at him with crossbows and bows. One of the men in gold armor, the one who seems to be the leader, advances on his horse and reveals himself. It's Harry Strickland, the leader of the golden company, hired by Cersei. Targeted by these men, Jon knows he has no chance to kill them all with his only sword. _"Well, here's a happy surprise. Jon Snow, the king of the north himself, lost in the middle of nowhere." Harry said with a satisfied smile, accompanied by laughter from his men. _ "Listen to me, you have to help us, I ..." Jon tries to explain himself, but Harry Strickland's blade comes to rest against the chin of Jon, forcing him to raise his hands and shut up. _"Queen Cersei will give us a very nice reward for you, Lord Snow. Catch him, guys! Jon is stunned as two of the riders tie his wrists with chains. He is forced to follow the group of riders in a southerly direction, not without casting a last worried look behind him, not knowing the current situation at Winterfell. ********* The survivors of the battle, escorted by the priests and priestesses of R'hllor, finally arrive at the city of White Harbor, where are anchored the ships of the Targaryen fleet. Without further ado, Sansa, Tyrion, Missandei, Gilly, Samwell and Varys begin to embark all the inhabitants on the ships. Unfortunately, the wights are already coming to the survivors and a huge horde of dead rush over them to shred them. Melisandre, Kinvara and the other red priests form a line, uttering incantations in the Valyrian language, and unleash an immense wall of flame in front of them, covering the first row of wights and blocking the passage to those after. Beric comes to stand beside his masters. Behind them, Arya, Sandor, Brienne, Jaime, Davos, Gendry and Podrick are also ready to fight back with the surviving soldiers. Behind the great wall of flames blocking access, the Night King steps forward with the white walkers, feeling the presence of red priests nearby. The Night King reaches out, and in a telepathic order, orders his hordes of dead to throw themselves into the flames, to form real footbridges of corpses and smother the flames little by little. Seeing him do and the fire begin to weaken more and more under the body chafing, Melisandre and Kinvara throw themselves the same puzzled look. _ "Embark all, now!" said Melisandre to the survivors. Although Arya does not want to obey, she is seized by Sandor who lifts her up and takes her with him on one of the ships. Arya protests and strikes even Sandor, but without success. Gendry holds her too. Samwell embarks on a ship with Gilly and Little Sam, on the same as Varys, Davos and Missandei. Tyrion and Sansa board the same ship, with Ghost, Podrick, Brienne and Jaime. The roar of Drogon and heard and the dragon appears, flying over the ships, with Daenerys, Jorah and Bran on the back. Daenerys contemplates the boarding of the survivors, but her heart squeezes as she does not see Jon and Rhaegal. Where are they? She also sees the Night King behind the wall of flames. She is tempted to make fire raining again, but does not want to risk exposing Drogon to another javelin throw from the King of the Dead. The first wights begin to pass the flames, but are shot down by Beric who has decided to stay with the priestesses. But the dead are more and more numerous to pass, and already, the figures of the Night King and the white walkers can be guessed through the flames, advancing little by little. Kinvara, seeing the situation, turns to Melisandre and gives her an order. _"Embark on one of the ships. Your task is not done yet, you know what the Lord expects from you, as he expects from us." Melisandre seems to fully understand the order of her superior and accepts it without question, breaking off the spell and starting to move towards the ships. But before she leaves, Beric holds her by the wrist and whispers her something in her ear. _"I'll tell it to Sandor Clegane, I promise you." she says. _"Thank you my lady." said the knight without banners. Melisandre nods, promising to do it. Melisandre climbs the bridge and climbs onto the same ship where Arya and Sandor are. While all embarked, the anchors returned and the ships began to slowly but slowly move away from the wharves, escorted from the skies by Drogon and Daenerys. On the quays, the wights pass in hordes and rush to Kinvara, Beric and the priests, determined to obstruct them. In another incantation, Kinvara and the priests begin to invoke a powerful spell, while Beric, his fiery sword, lifts it, triumphs and yells these words: _ "Because the night is dark is full of terror!" And with these words, Kinvara and the red priests unleash a powerful explosion of flames, which pulverize them as well as Beric, but also the dozens of wights who were about to throw themselves on them. From the ship, Melisandre contemplated the sacrifice of her brothers and sisters of the order, as well as Beric Dondarrion, and addresses a prayer to their memory. They have done their duty, just as she will have to do hers. Silent, Melisandre walks away towards the cabins, juste after throw a glance before Sandor Clegane, who notices but says nothing. As the ships move away from the coast, all of them look at the flames evaporating, and the Night King advancing to the edge of the water, staring at the ships. Behind him, the white walkers and the army of the dead, who despite having suffered many casualties, still seemed as immense as ever before. Among the wights, the survivors recognize some of their friends and relatives. Samwell's heart rises as he spots Edd with blue eyes, as well as little Lyanna Mormont. Brienne and Jaime see Tormund, also transformed. Missandei freezes and burst into tears at the sight of Grey Worm, also changed into a wight. Davos is obliged to hold her back. Sansa also screams in tears when she sees the figure of Theon Greyjoy, animated as a living corpse. Sansa falls to her knees and Tyrion tries to comfort her by hugging her and forcing her not to look. The silence falls as a gray dawn rises on this battle now over and lost for the living. From the top of Drogon, Daenerys also contemplates the disaster and the feeling of defeat invades her. Her gaze is on the victorious and impassive Night King, who, as if having felt it, raises his blue eyes towards her, and seems to show a semblance of a macabre smile. Daenerys grits her teeth and continues to keep her dragon out of reach, and moves away with the ships towards Dragonstone, under the thousands of looks of the dead.

END of Episode 3

[seashellrosekitty]

Shielded | Derek Hale x Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Derek Hale x Female Reader

Plot: You’re driving to Beacon Hills to help Deaton with something. You meet Derek Hale, who is deeply wounded and is paralyzed.

Word Count: 3,697 (14-minute read)

Warnings: This story will eventually lead to having smut scenes, profanity, and even gory details in the next chapters.

A/N: Welcome to my first Imagine! This isn’t requested and is purely inspired by other imagines here on Tumblr. Enjoy! :)

***

“Why do I have to move to Beacon Hills?” You think to yourself.  You were already happy with your life in Frisco. Oh right, there’s a mystery you need to solve. Not that you are a detective of some sort. You’re a full-blown empath.  And this is why you’re driving to Beacon Hills alone. This is the reason for many things in your life, in fact. Why you’re single, why you prefer so much space and time away from people, why you don’t really like to touch other people and why you’re so careful about making physical contact with formerly owned objects.

As you drive a straight road, you think about these things, reflecting once more, why did you take this job? You are good friends with Dr. Deaton, being involved in similar experiences sometime in the past. He called you for a pressing, ‘empath’ job. And unfortunately, you’ll need to do this more than once, probably. You have a love/hate relationship with your profession. It is your natural ability to understand and empathize with others. The difference you have with werewolves and their heightened senses is that you need to be close to your subject of interest. You now arrive in Deaton’s clinic, expecting him to be there, as he always is. You knock on the front door.

“Doc? You here? It’s me, (Y/N).” You call out. You hear footsteps coming from inside the clinic as you wait by the desk.  For an animal clinic, there are much fewer animals, you think to yourself.

“Ah, (Y/N), thank you for coming. I didn’t know who else to call,” Deaton shakes your hand and gives you a hug as a gesture of seeing you after a long time.

“Don’t worry about it. How have you been?” You say as you naturally express concern for your old friend.

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m glad you’re here. And you came just in time too. I have someone here I need you to look at. He was paralyzed by some creature we haven’t identified yet,” Deaton says and leads you inside the clinic. As you walk in, you could already feel countless terrors coming from the walls of the room. There, you find an unconscious man laying down the metal table.

“This is Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf,” Deaton tells you.  You nod at him but don’t respond.  You look at the patient and observe him. You don’t come near him just yet. You notice how he’s breathing normally for someone who’s hurt and paralyzed. Derek Hale’s torso is bandaged and his wounds are all over his body. It’s not easy to tell how he got hurt. Your stomach is about to turn upside down when you smell the stench coming from his wounds.

“Are you sure he wasn’t in some form of trauma or accident that led him to paralysis? Maybe he should be in the hospital,” You say to Deaton, and he shakes his head.

“I found him here before he collapsed and then paralyzed. I didn’t even know that was possible. He clearly wanted to be treated here. It must be some kind of creature Beacon Hills hasn’t heard of yet.” You look at him in disbelief, remembering how Beacon Hills is more supernatural than most towns. “Notice these claw marks on his ribs. There���s nothing like it.” Deaton tells you as much as he knows, leaving you to the reason why he called you in the first place.

Now you decide to come close to the table. You look at the man’s wounds, the giant claw marks, but still hesitate to touch them.  You observe his breathing again and definitely trying to ignore the good physique this werewolf has. Do they magically grow washboard abs after being bitten? Like Spider-Man? You think to yourself but snap out of it. This is the reality.

You approach his right side, and you slowly touch his right hand with yours, as if you were introducing yourself to him. His hand is not as warm as you expect it to be, but you start to see how much this man has gone through by the roughness of his palm. As you brace yourself for what you’re about to see and feel, you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes.

Your visions come in swift images. A dark, hostile figure coming to attack the man as you see it in his perspective. You could feel his defensive state he was in before he was hurt, but he was scared too. You feel sudden changes of emotions coming from him and most are repressed ones. The last he had was fear. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see what he was afraid of before being paralyzed. You’re certain it wasn’t his death he was afraid of.

“I couldn’t make out the creature that attacked him. He was attacked last night. It was dark, he was in the woods. And this creature was…well, a monster. Definitely hostile, and out of control,” You say to Deaton with your eyes closed, still trying to find memories from this unconscious werewolf. You realize Deaton may have already assumed everything you’ve said. It’s easy to theorize what you just envisioned.  Deaton doesn’t say anything so he doesn’t interrupt your trance. As you try to keep looking inside Derek’s head, you decide to hold his forehead in the hopes of seeing more. But you get distracted from the noise in the background – what seems to you would be the worried pack that this werewolf is a member of.

“We came as soon as we got your call,” You hear someone say this behind you but Deaton shushes him. You could now feel all the new energies emanating from the room. They were probably three, or four people not including Deaton watching what you’re doing.

“What’s going on?” A woman’s whisper distracts you again as your hearing from the physical world is always better than your hearing in the empathic state.

“Please remain silent. I’m trying to find out what happened to your friend here. I’ll explain everything later. Just, please. Do relax too. I could feel the tension from here,” You say as you turn your head to face your right, showing these people that you are talking to them and that you mean business.

You still see the same sight of the dark creature when you keep your left hand on his head, so you decide to move your left hand to his chest, hoping it would show you more than what you’ve already seen. Your right hand remains in his so that your empathic contact doesn’t break. No images come into your head. But a surge of energy is starting to build on your palms. Your nerves are trembling now. You know you’re either about to see or feel something in a matter of seconds. You feel restless, scared, and tired. And because you’re an emotional being, all of this makes you want to cry. You keep your tears until you couldn’t, and tears start falling from your closed eyes. This combination of emotions is coming from this werewolf, and you’re fighting hard to contain it. You feel all of Derek’s emotions too strongly that you no longer feel the presence of the people behind you. You’re still aware that they’re there, but they don’t disrupt this moment for you.

No more images come into your mind, and you decide to break contact to keep what’s left of your energy for the rest of the day. You take another deep breath before removing your hands from the werewolf’s hand and chest. You take a moment to make sense of the physical world. This is how you ground yourself every time after a trance.

Since you are familiar with the clinic, you head to the sink and wash your hands. You do this to cleanse yourself of Derek’s energy. Finally, you wipe your tears and take a couple more breaths. You hear indistinct conversations from the group and you know they have so many questions.  But you take your time. After wiping your wet hands, you turn over to them and walk silently towards them. There are four teenagers, you confirm. Two boys and two girls.

“Guys, this is Y/F/N, Y/L/N. She’s an old friend of mine. I called her to help us figure out the creature that attacked Derek. Y/N, meet the pack. Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, and Lydia Martin.” You shake hands with each of them.

“Are all of your werewolves too?” You ask them.

“Scott’s the only one,” Stiles answers you as he puts his arm around Scott. You nod and think about what to say next.

“So what exactly were you doing there? How’s Derek doing?” Scott asks you.  You turn back to look at Derek again and remember what you saw.

“He’s gonna be fine. Actually, he could use your emotional support right now,” You answer him monotonously.

“Yeah, like he would ever admit that,” Stiles says with a chuckle. The two girls agree with him but you notice they want a better answer from you.

“Well, I was trying to see his latest memories before he passed out and got paralyzed. I need to hold his hand to be able to do that. And all I saw was this dark creature. Hostile and out of control. He’s a serious threat to your friend. And to all of you.” You tell them, and the room is now in a serious atmosphere. “I've brought some of my stuff that could help him heal from paralysis. I’m quite sure this is just temporary paralysis just like that from a Kanima’s attack. Only this one gives him nightmares,” You say to all of them and head to your car to get your bag.

“What is she? Why can she see memories?” The group’s questions bombard Deaton as you leave the room. Deaton tells them what you are. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a human being, and being able to do these things doesn’t make you any different than those who couldn’t. Except for space you need from people every now and then. As you go back inside the clinic, the atmosphere somewhat changed and yet you still feel awkward with these worried teenagers and what you notice as hyped energy. Or as most people call it, raging hormones.

“It’s hard to see it from it from the outside, but whenever his nerves are twitching, that’s the time his nightmares feel real. And I think that has something to do with his paralysis,” You say to them, and you bring out a small bottle of oil from your bag and open to let Derek smell some of it. Its scent is strong enough to be smelt by werewolves and give quite a lasting effect.  Afterward, you put a pea-sized amount of the oil on your palm and spread it on both your palms. You put some oil on Derek’s palms, the center of his forehead, and the rest of it in the center of his chest. You start to state a prayer with your breath, making the words inaudible to the group. You close your eyes as you do this and start massaging Derek on the areas where you put the oil.

“Is she a masseuse too? Maybe I could go next ‘cause I feel sore from all the running – “ Stiles says and gets smacked on the shoulder by Scott, easily gaining the group’s annoyance. Slowly rubbing the oil on the center of his head, you use your thumb to make a final upward motion that makes Derek’s body jerk in shock. It surprises everyone except you.

“Whoa, what the hell was that?” The group asks you.

“I’m trying to snap him from his nightmares. And soon, from his paralysis too, I hope,” You answer, and turn to Deaton. “May I ask for some water, please?” Deaton immediately rushes to get you a glass of water. You grab the glass as Deaton comes back with it and drink from it right away.

“Dude, she’s weird,” Stiles says to Scott. Scott smacks Stiles again and says “Shut up,” but smiles amusingly at him.

“Does this procedure make her thirsty?” Allison asks.

“All the time,” Deaton answers. “What she’s doing right now is giving some healing energy to Derek. The way I see it, Derek’s werewolf couldn’t heal from the paralysis. It’s probably why he fell unconscious first before being paralyzed. His werewolf being his alter ego, is also the last one to be affected by the attack.”

Suddenly, Derek’s body jerks rapidly more than once, disturbing the calm in the room. The group rushes to the table to hold Derek down but you warn them not to.

“His physical reaction to the procedure is a good sign. I think he’s healing from the inside out.” You repeat the procedure and continue emanating energy from inside you and transfer it to him. After a few more upward strokes of your thumb on his forehead, Derek’s finally able to regain consciousness and almost turns into his werewolf self, obviously being on defense mode. You take a few steps back away in panic as his friends hold him down to keep him from turning.  

“Derek! It’s us! You’re safe! It’s all right!” Scott exclaims. You look at his searing red eyes and it startles you since you’ve never met an Alpha before. He roars loudly and it sends your heart jumping in fright. When his panicked look meets yours, his eyes turn back to his normal color -  green, and he calms down. His look changes from being defensive to almost in doubt that he is where he is. You leave his friends to explain to him what happened, and what you were doing to him.  

Meanwhile, you’re not sure if you should wash your hands again but you find yourself doing it anyway – anything to keep yourself busy and away from the potentially hostile patient. Deaton introduces you to Derek as you finish washing your hands and wiping them, only to touch Derek’s again for a handshake.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Derek says to you as he hangs his legs from the metal table. You shake your head. “I didn’t. Deaton did,” You say as you glance at Deaton.

“Well, it certainly felt like I was dying. Over and over.” Derek looks down and runs both hands across his head.

“I think what I did was snap you out of your nightmares. Did that cause your paralysis?” You ask him.

“How did you know I was having nightmares?” Derek asks you while he looks at his bruises and wounds.

“She’s psychic,” Stiles interrupts. Derek looks at him irritatingly, still waiting for your answer. For some reason, the rest of the group doesn’t bother to tell him themselves. “Seriously. We live in a world where werewolves and Kanimas exist but you all are skeptical about psychics?” All of you look at Stiles to shut him up.

“I’m an empath. I assume you know what that is?” You turn to Derek.

“Never heard of it. But coming from the word empath, I think I know what you do,” Derek replies. “Does anyone have a clean shirt around here?” You raise your eyebrows in agreement to the question. He should’ve had his shirt on the whole time, you think. You notice that this may happen frequently because the pack did bring extra clothes for Derek. All but a first aid kit.

“Do you still remember what attacked you? What happened?” Scott starts asking the vital questions.

“I don’t know – I…” Derek pinches the skin between his eyes. “It looked like a Kanima, I guess, but it sounded like a wolf. I don’t even know what he did to put me in paralysis.” You quietly listen as Derek says this to the pack. The rest of the pack waits for him to finish recollecting his memories from the attack.

“It’s easy to assume that the creature’s very claws could paralyze the nerves. I don’t know about the nightmares, though.” Deaton adds.

“What were you doing before you were attacked?” You ask him, not moving an inch from where you stand – a good distance from the pack.

“Didn’t you sense the creature before you were attacked?” Scott adds, hinting a tone of worry. Derek gathers himself more but finds it difficult to.

“I sensed him. But it came out of nowhere.”

“I felt that –“ everyone suddenly turn their heads to look at you, and you feel as though you were interrupting Derek. But you continue. “The creature was out of control. Did you feel this too?” You ask him with genuine interest.

“I think it was. Why?”

“It could be a new breed,” Scott suggests.

“It could be a hybrid,” Stiles adds.

“It could be anything,” Lydia responds.

“Or it could be an experiment,” Deaton suggests, and you look at him, confirming that you thought of the same thing.

“An experiment went wrong,” Allison concludes.

“I think we should look it up,” Derek says to wrap up the discussion, and slowly gets down from the metal table.

“Derek, I suggest you take more rest. Take Y/N with you. Let her look after you. Especially with those nightmares,” Deaton says to Derek. Derek doesn’t reply but looks at you and nods. You do the same.

“You can ride in my car if you want a quiet trip home,” You offer him a tiny smile, thinking that Derek might not like riding with his pack carrying a vulnerable mind and possibly, heightened senses. This suggestion makes Derek smile and he just nods at you in agreement.

You proceed to your car while Scott helps Derek walk towards it. Scott goes to the blue Jeep parked beside your car once he closed the door for Derek.  You all agree to drive as a convoy.  The pack leads you to Derek’s loft. You turn on the radio in a low volume and play your Spotify. You just want to make sure your head stays clear and not be distracted by what could be another episode of Derek’s nightmares. As you arrive at the loft, you wake Derek up as softly as you could.

“Mr. Hale, you can wake up now. We’re at your place.” Derek opens up his eyes and finds the outdoors too bright even when the weather is gloomy. You reach for your baseball cap on the back seat and lend it to him without hesitation. “Here.” You put on the cap on his head gently to relieve him from the eyesore.

“Thanks,” Derek says in a grunting voice, trying to find his strength to sit up straight. “Y/N, right?” You then answer a low “Yeah.”

“Please call me Derek.” This makes you smile a little, noting that he noticed you being so formal with him earlier. Maybe he wasn’t really sleeping after all.

“Sure. Can you stand up and walk, Derek?”

“Why can’t I smell anything from this cap?” Derek ignores your question. You notice he does this a lot.

“Um, maybe because I’ve never used it before. I just got it on my way to town. Don’t ask how. Now come on, I’ll call your friends to help you walk up.” You didn’t have to, though, because Scott and Stiles come rushing towards Derek’s side of the car. They open the door for him and help him all the way to his loft. The girls, Allison and Lydia offer to help you get your stuff, but you politely decline, telling them you’ll only bring up your stuff when Derek agrees to you staying with him for a while. Formality is kind of your thing with strangers.

As you reach the loft, you look around to find a spot in the room you’d be most comfortable to sit…or stand. The loft is almost empty of furniture.

“Make yourself at home, Y/N. You can sit wherever you want,” Stiles offers as if the loft was his. You hear Derek grunt at Stiles in irritation. This makes you smile and say, “Thanks, Stiles. I think I’ll actually wait for Derek to feel comfortable with me being here before I could do that,” You say, not really knowing why you just did. Derek and Stiles look at each other in confusion.

Allison comes to your rescue and asks you to sit beside her on the couch.

“So Y/N, what kind of oil was that that you used to wake Derek up?” Allison asks. This makes Derek look at you in anticipation for an answer.

“Nothing special. It’s made of Californian poppies. It should help relax the nervous system,” You answer Allison.

“But Derek snapped out of paralysis. How is that relaxing his nervous system?” Scott asks you. Derek remains quiet in this conversation, but you could tell that he wants to ask you these questions himself.

“Well, the oil helped relax his nerves.” You feel like you just repeated what you said. “If you’ve held his arms a while ago, you would’ve felt his nerves were kind of like frozen. And his brain, despite its activity, almost felt like it was dead. It’s hard to explain it. But the oil helped his physical body. And…the prayer I kept saying until he woke up was what boosted the effect of the oil. As for the force that actually woke him up, it was a surge of energy coming from me,” You explain, and this makes the room quiet, all eyes on you. You exhale sharply. “Somebody please say something,” You say, and you could almost feel like you’re losing your voice.

“Huh,” Lydia sighs contemplatively. “I thought you said you were an Empath. It looks like that’s not all you are.”

“I come from a family of healers. You should see by now how Deaton and I must know each other. And please don’t ask why I didn’t become a vet like Deaton because he and I heal mystical beings differently.”

“Interesting,” Lydia says and breaks her stare from you.

“Now that we’re all up to speed, could you all let me heal in peace?” Derek changes the subject. The pack agrees to this and tries to leave quietly except for Stiles, of course. They wave you goodbye before heading out.

*End of Part 1*

Hope you guys liked it because I had so much fun writing this! Please leave some comments because I’d love to know what y’all think! xx

Read Part 2

Much thanks to @spxderbarnes for the inspiration :)

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