#my brother took the good spade for his work and finally replaced it with what should be decent quality but really is just shite

[gaytobymeres]

I hate the spade I’m using so so much it’s so blunt that it does not slice through stuff which is what you need it to do when you’re lifting turf >:( it’s making the job take way more effort and time than it should.

[whererubbermeetstheroad]

What are some of your First Year headcanons for TWST?

Ohmygod, I am sooooo sorry this took so long. It was way harder than I thought it would be to corral all my ideas together, but FINALLY, here it is. I hope this is good enough lol.

Hooooooo boy. The amount of brainrot I’ve had for these little guys is unreal, even during the times when I wasn’t that into TWST. But honestly, I don’t really have a whole lot to say — not that much of a “headcanons” person, myself. And a lot of what I do have to say has already been said in my fics. But I’m going to do my best here…

Ace Trappola

Because of the whole Book One fiasco, there are a lot of… things, let’s say, that Ace has absolutely fought tooth-and-nail to keep from his seniors; injuries sustained from stupid stunts, fights, bad grades, etc. It’s sort of like he’s doing whatever he can to avoid getting collared, despite knowing, logically, he probably isn’t going to.

Basically, Ace is the definition of a kid whose parents were strict, so he learned to be sneaky.

He’s actually a really snappy dresser, and not half-bad at doing makeup. He probably would’ve been in Pomefiore if it weren’t for his lackadaisical views on hard work. Meanwhile, while he’s not a strict person by any means, his stubborn, relentless attitude about his own twisted morals is what got him into Heartslabyul.

Out of all the upperclassmen, Ace feels the closest to Floyd… surprisingly. Jamil used to be a close second, but after the winter break fiasco, he’s since been replaced by Cater.

With Floyd, Ace can mostly chalk up the underwater museum incident to Yuu’s own meddling. With Jamil, it’s a little… less certain.

Before coming to Night Raven College, Ace’s nervous habit was to scratch the back of his head. After coming to Night Raven College, it was to rub the back of his neck.

Not really related to Ace, but I always headcanoned that his older brother was twisted from the Ringmaster from “Dumbo (1941)”.

Deuce Spade

Surprisingly, there are a lot of things Deuce also tries to hide from his upperclassmen. He hates himself everytime he does it, but it’s better than bothering them every time he loses his temper and they have to sign him out of the infirmary.

Deuce has scars on his knuckles from his delinquent days. 

Deuce’s main job at an Unbirthday Party is to move the tables and chairs.

The Dark Mirror briefly considered Deuce for Savanaclaw due to his strength and his instinct to hit a problem until it got out of his way, but his self-imposed pressure to be an honor student landed him in Hearstlabyul instead.

Out of all the upperclassmen, Deuce feels the closest to Silver.

Having a mommy/daddy complex will do that to you.

He likes to put oyster sauce on his tarts now — not because he particularly likes the taste, but because it makes him feel warm inside. (Tell Ace, and you’re dead.)

Deuce is actually really good at croquet for some inexplicable reason.

Jack Howl

Whenever Jack needs to leave Savanaclaw outside of school hours, he just leaves without telling anybody.

At the beginning of the year, he used to actually scrawl a shitty note saying "I'm leaving" everytime he needed to leave, but rarely did people ever actually find it by the time he got back.

After everything that happened in Book 2 and Book 3, it's obvious to him that Ruggie and Leona really don't care enough, so he stopped leaving notes.

For the briefest of moments, Jack was considered for Heartslabyul by the Dark Mirror for his inflexible moral code. However, his steadfastness in the face of overwhelming odds landed him in Savanaclaw.

They grow nighthowlers in the Botanical Garden. They look exactly like blueberries. Not related to Jack (yet), but I thought it was important to mention.

Besides Vil, Jack feels the closest to Riddle in terms of upperclassmen.

He really does like Ruggie and Leona, but that’s… a lot to unpack, at best.

He and Epel regularly get into fights over whether pears or apples are better, even in situations where neither pears or apples are involved.

Professor Crewel, especially, is very exasperated with them.

For absolutely no real reason whatsoever, Jack has the entirety of the “Shaftlands’ Etiquette Manual for Youngsters (Ages 14—18)” memorized. 

Not related to Jack, but I always headcanoned his young sister as being twisted off of Bolt from “Bolt (2008)” and his younger brother as being based off the Sheriff of Nottingham from “Robin Hood (1973)”.

Epel Felmier

Epel is a transgender male. Just wanted to get that out of the way.

Epel does actually like macarons — strawberry-flavored ones are his favorite.

Epel does still get into a lot of fights around school, but he’s gotten better at hiding the evidence. Employing a trick he learned from Vil, he hides the bulk of his injuries using his clothes and makeup.

More often than he’d like to admit, Epel accidentally refers to Vil and Rook as his “parents” in his essays. Luckily, Professor Trein still gives him full credit, and he doesn’t comment.

He does the same thing when he’s talking about them to the other freshmen. They don’t stop him because a) it’s sweet, and b) it’s funny.

Once, Epel vented to Riddle about Vil, and accidentally referred to him as his “Ma” the whole time. By the end of it, Riddle looked very, very, very concerned.

Out of all the upperclassmen, Epel feels the closest to Leona.

Epel had no chances of ending up in Savanaclaw, but with the Dark Mirror sensing great magical power emanating from him, he very nearly ended up in Diasomnia. However, because he hadn’t developed his ultra-mega-powerful Signature Spell yet, it ended up diverting him into Pomefiore. Sorry, bud.

Am I only saying this because Epel is actually twisted off of a magic object, unlike the other characters? Yes, yes I am.

Ortho Shroud

He’s twisted from Hercules, don’t freaking @ me.

Ortho has a few issues with looking into mirrors, especially since he looks so much like OG!Ortho. 

Ortho has a few attachment issues, as a result of being an extrovert trapped in an introvert’s bubble for most of his life. 

The first-years completely and absolutely baby him, no questions asked.

It’s so bad that even if Ortho is completely at fault for something, they’ll take his side anyway.

Honestly, as much as I love this little guy, I really don’t have much to say about him…

Sebek Zigvolt

Suffers from severe attachment issues, for about the same reason as Ortho �� being “too much” emotionally, and surrounded by people who put in the emotional bare minimum.

Silver is kind of an exception, but he’s so stone-faced, it also kind of doesn’t make a difference.

Has definitely called Trey “Father” more often than he’d like to admit. Trey thinks it’s funny, meanwhile Sebek is just straight-up mortified everytime.

Out of all the freshmen, Sebek actually feels the least close to the upperclassmen. But if I had to say which one he feels the closest to, even if it wouldn’t be saying much at all, it would have to be Silver.

While Sebek’s favorite food is salmon carpaccio, his (closeted) second-favorite is his dad’s homemade yogurt.

Am I projecting? Yes. I love my dad, sue me.

Sebek was actually way more comfortable with his human side than he was with his fae side when he was a kid, but because Briar Valley, that didn’t last too long.

Back in Briar Valley, Silver could usually go out by himself and not be bothered—mostly because he was General Vanrouge’s son and Malleus’s sort-of brother. Sebek, unfortunately, did not have that luxury.

The Dark Mirror considered Sebek for Ignihyde because of his never-ending diligence when it came to protecting Malleus and the other people he cared about. However, once it became extremely obvious that Sebek didn’t know how to turn down the volume on his own phone, it put him in Diasomnia.

Honestly, though, I think Sebek and Ortho would’ve both been better off if he HAD been sorted into Ignihyde.

Not related to Sebek, but I headcanon his older brother as being based on Tick-Tock the Crocodile from “Peter Pan (1953)” and his older sister as being twisted from Louis from “The Princess and the Frog (2009)”.

Yes, I know Louis is technically an ALLIGATOR, but shhhh. Lemme have this.

If it makes you feel better, though, I also headcanon their father as being from Port o’Bliss (the same place Sam is from), so through the power of genetics, it kind of works out.

Okay, I think that’s everything. I considered adding Yuu in here, but then again, anything we know about Yuu is mostly headcanons, so I don’t think it counts lol.

Thank you SO MUCH for your patience, and I hope my headcanons didn’t bore you, I know they’re kind of mundane lol.

[ikeromantic]

Ikemen vampire theo x mc where theo and MC become parents and theo has to take care of the baby for a day by himself? LOL if it’s to hard u don’t gotta do it idk if I requested this before lol

Day 26 of Ikemektober!

I haven’t read all of Theo’s route yet, so I don’t know how accurate to character this is - but I hope you enjoy ^_^  Approx. 1800 words of baby filled fluffiness for the ask.

Theo snuggled to his precious hondje despite the insistent sunlight streaming in the windows. She was soft and warm, and it felt good to have her nestled against his chest. If fate allowed, he might have stayed right where he was until Sebas announced lunch. But late morning weren’t for parents.

As if on cue, the twins began to cry. Anna was breathy and quiet, but her sister Akari made up for that in spades. Her cry was demanding and loud, and there was no way to ignore it. Not even for five more minutes in bed with his lovely wife. 

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Oh - oh, my babies. I’m coming, coming . . .”

Theodorus watched her stumbled from the room, half asleep. She was exhausted since they’d had the twins. It was a lot of work, even with helpful uncles in the manor. 

He watched her shuffle back from the nursery, a baby in each arm. They had their mother’s dark, straight hair and their daddy’s big blue eyes. A deadly combination. Theo scooped Akari up and bounced her in his arms. She stopped crying as soon as he held her. 

“Ah, papa has the magic touch, hm?” His wife smiled at him. “I don’t think they’re even hungry. They just wanted company.” Anna was settled too, happy to be held. The four of them ended up laid out in bed, the two babies in the middle with their mom and dad on the sides. 

Hondje was falling asleep already, with long, slow blinks. Theo felt bad for her shouldering so much of the work with the babies. He wanted to help out - he just wasn’t sure what one did with a baby. They were terribly fragile things. 

As if to illustrate his point, Akari wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and started chewing on it. Her mouth was small and pink and it tickled a little. 

“Trying to eat me up, eh?” He laughed quietly. Maybe he could try to give his beauty a break today. Let her sleep in, take a long hot bath, eat pancakes in blessed silence . . . all things neither of them had done since the babies were born.

All he had to do was take care of these two feisty little ones for a few hours. Surely . . . surely that couldn’t be too hard. 

Theo slipped out of bed, silent as a cat. He carefully lifted Anna and Akari and took them for a chat with Vincent.

“So what I want to do is take care of them all today - but, what do you do with a baby, broer?”

Vincent tickled Anna’s tummy, fascinated by her smiles. He didn’t look up as he replied. “Well, if you want her to have peace and quiet, you should take them out someplace.”

“Like a gallery or a cafe?” Theo tried to imagine it. All he could picture was Akari and Anna trying to eat random items and crying a lot. 

“No. Someplace they can just . . . be babies. Maybe take them for a picnic?” Vincent finally looked up. 

“A baby picnic? I guess that could work.” They would stay on the blanket, safe and sound, and well out of their mother’s hair. 

“Perfect. Why don’t you get them dressed and I’ll meet you out front with some picnic supplies.” Vincent smiled widely.

“Are you coming with us?”

“Of course! I can’t miss a chance to dote on my sweet nieces.” 

Theo carried the babies out. At eight months, they were getting a little heavy but they were still too small to walk. He didn’t mind the weight but he wished they wouldn’t wiggle a kick so much.

It took Theodorus almost an hour to get the little ones bundled up for an autumn day. Long sleeve dresses and little warm leggings courtesy many shopping trips with Comte, mittens and boots from Arthur and Dazai, and a red scarf for Akari, and a yellow one for Anna. He topped it off with little knit caps shaped like an apple and a pumpkin. The hats and scarves were handmade by Sebas. He’d taken to knitting cute accessories for the girls in his spare time, and seemed to really enjoy seeing the twins wear his creations.

“Why do my babies look like they’re part of a harvest festival?”

Theo turned to see his beauty in the doorway, making puppy eyes at him. “Mijn knabbel, I was going to surprise you with a day to yourself.” He felt ridiculous having to tell her about it. Couldn’t she see what he was doing? 

She crossed the room and put a kiss on his cheek before he could say anything else. “Thank you, love.” 

The look in her eye made him go warm inside, like a summer breeze. It reminded him of all the reasons he loved her. “Just go back to bed, hondje. You look tired.”

“Mmm, I will. I want to be rested up when you get back.”

“Oh?” And now Theo knew he had something to look forward to. He gave her a quick goodbye kiss and took the squirming babies to the front entry.

Vincent was waiting for him with a double carriage for the babies and a big basket of goodies. He also had a blanket for the ground, a spare one for the babies in case they were cold. “Are you ready to go?”

“I think so. They’re dressed and wiggly.” Theo laughed, setting the babies in the carriage. He looked at the basket on his brother’s arm. “Did you bring something for them to eat?”

“I did. Sebas made up a special pancake and berry blend and put it in little jars. They will love it.” Vincent grinned. “I’m hoping to sketch them today. They are almost a year old and I haven’t managed to get a single good painting of either of them.”

“They move too much.” Theo gave the babies a mock stern look. “You have to hold still for mijn broer when he’s painting you.”

Anna and Akari gurgled at him in response, completely unrepentant. 

The brothers took the babies out to Vincent’s favorite flower meadow. They laid the blanket under a tree and set the babies down on it. Anna sat where her papa put her, but Akari pushed herself up on all-fours and wobbled toward a pile of fallen leaves. 

Theo scooped her up just before she got there. “Think you can escape little one?”

She started to cry, an angry, helpless sound. 

Vincent put his hands to his ears. “Can’t you let her play in the leaves? It wouldn’t hurt anything. We used to play in leaf piles all the time.”

“Yes but -” Theo wasn’t sure how to put it into words. It was different when it was your baby. You worried more. About all kinds of things. Still, his brother was probably right. 

“Ok, ok,” he told Akari, and set her down on the blanket. She immediately stopped crying and went for the leaves again. “Just don’t eat them - please?” 

Vincent laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you plead like that. Being a father has changed you.” 

Theo shrugged. His brother was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The two of them watched the babies crawl over and under the leaves, picking up the bright red and yellow ones to stare at them in wonder. And occasionally gnaw at them with their little slobbery mouths. 

Gloves, hats, scarves, and booties disappeared through playtime, replaced by dirt and dead leaves. A different sort of fall costume, Theo mused. 

Vincent managed a few quick sketches, but the girls made it hard to catch them in any pose. They had so much energy and everything fascinated them.

Eventually they got tired and let their papa and uncle feed them. Then promptly fell asleep in the baby carriage. 

“I guess that’s our cue to head home,” Vincent sighed. 

Theo nodded and stood up to gather the scattered picnic items. He found the two hats, and the mittens and boots, but the scarves were gone. He tore through the leaf pile and checked under the picnic blanket. They weren’t there. Or in the baby carriage. Or in the basket.

“What’s wrong,” Vincent asked. “Did you drop something?”

“No. Godverdomme. I can’t find the girls’ scarves. They have to be here someplace.” 

“The ones Sebas just gave them to wear for winter?”

“Yes, those.” He shot his brother a look of annoyance that faded the second it landed. It was impossible to be annoyed with Vincent. “Can you help me look for them?”

“I will. I’d hate to see Sebastian’s face if we had to tell him we lost them.”

“Thanks, broer. Helpful.”

“Don’t worry Theo. We’ll find them.” Vincent gave his angelic smile and the two of them tore through the picnic site again. Still no scarves. 

Theo knew they needed to get back soon, but he didn’t want to give up. That just wasn’t his style. “Did you check the grass, Vince?”

“Yes, and I went through the leaf pile again. Lots of red and yellow, nothing knit.”

“And the picnic basket?”

Vincent sighed. “We both looked through it. Unless Akari and Anna managed to stick them in the jam jars, the scarves aren’t in there either.”

Theo popped open the basket and checked the jam jars just in case. With the babies, you could never be sure.

“I think we’ll just have to admit we lost them, Theo. I’m sure Sebas will be alright. The twins got to where them out once at least.”

“Yeah.” Theodorus felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. It had been a very nice day but the ending spoilt it all. 

He and Vincent pushed the baby carriage back to the manor in low spirits. Anna and Akari slept through the whole drama, unaware of the importance of their missing scarves.

Sebastian met them at the door, all smiles. “Did you have a nice day out? Did the girls like their pancakes?” He leaned down to look at the snoozing pups. His smile faltered. “Ah, still not cold enough weather for a scarf?”

Vincent looked over at Theo.

It would be easy to lie right now. Say that’s right, and then the scarves could go missing without it being his fault. But Theodorus wasn’t one to shirk responsibility. Sometimes you had to man up. Admit your faults. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, as he considered how best to break the news.

His fingers brushed something wooly and soft. His eyes widened.

“What is it, broer?”

Theo tugged the soft fluff from his pocket. A scarf. Yellow. And in the other pocket, one red. He grinned at Sebas. “Nah, they took them off while they were playing. I stuck them in my pockets for safe keeping.”

Vincent laughed, relieved. “I wish you could have seen them, Sebastian. They were so cute.”

Sebas smiled. “Well, I’ll have to wait for your next outing.” He gestured upstairs. “I believe your lady is waiting for you?”

Theo grinned. 

Vincent nudged his arm. “Don’t worry, Sebas and I will babysit the rest of tonight.”

He didn’t need anymore encouragement. He bounded upstairs, eager to show the mother of his children how much he appreciated her.

[juliussneezerfics]

Cards and Cons

Ao3

Ludwig, a police officer, is on a day off when he can't help but notice a gorgeous man sitting in front of a coffee shop. His stomach drops when he realizes the man is a con artist. Of course, having his solid moral code, Ludwig has no choice but to bring him to the station.

I know nothing about German law enforcement. I am just a humble clueless American, please spare me.

Also, just a little drabble I thought of earlier today. I have all this free time now that America is FINALLY doing something that matters about corona.

***********

Ludwig walked down the busy German street, his right hand gripping a paper bag. He was usually not one to go shopping for much other than food, but he had needed more button-down shirts for months now and had finally stiffened his resolve to get a few. It was a gorgeous spring day, a slight breeze playing through the air, caressing his face. The few trees planted periodically by the sidewalk were beginning to show green buds, showcasing the small changes that were sure to come with spring.

People bustled around him, causing the hairs on the back of Ludwig’s neck to stand up. There was something in the air that was charged. Excited. Him being an introvert, even without talking to these people, just pushing through them was socially exhausting him. He was a few minutes from his apartment, a few minutes away from sweet solitude with his dogs. He passed a nearby café that he occasionally liked to stop at before patrol for much-needed caffeine. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an auburn-haired gentleman seated at a table in front of the café, talking to a young woman sitting across from him.

His skin was tan, disproportionately so for it just being spring. His brown eyes, even from this distance, darted around with a kind of friendly cleverness. He wore a white button-down shirt, a black waistcoat buttoned over his slim chest. The man was attractive, undoubtedly so. It wasn't often that Ludwig noticed this about strangers. Despite the initial attraction he found in the mystery man, however, he couldn't help but notice the man's salesman's disposition. Then Ludwig happened to catch a glance of the cards in the man's hand. The rapturous attention the young woman was paying him was apparent even with Ludwig able to catch only the back of her head. Something within Ludwig hardened. As he was passing, he caught the disappointed expression on her face.

The man smiled at her.

Ludwig could spot a scam artist as surely as he could see the café he was walking past, but regardless of the man’s goals, there was something do genuine in the way he smiled.

“Oh, sorry about that! Better luck next time!” The man said.

Ludwig was slightly surprised as he noticed the accented German. It was very convincing, but to a native German the difference was apparent.

The woman dug through her purse, handing over some euro with a frown.

“Have a good day!” The man grinned, sliding the euro in his back pocket.

He brushed past the woman and slid into the seat across from the man. Even as he did this, he kicked himself. Today was supposed to be his day off. Captain Kirkland had been bothering him about letting up from his work, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night knowing that he let a scam artist off the hook.

The man glanced up, surprised. His surprise then faded into the salesman’s smile. “Hello there! Feeling lucky?”

“Not particularly. I just noticed that your accent is foreign.” Ludwig said, forcing down his frown and replacing it with an easy smile. His brother, also in the force, joked that he should have been an undercover cop with how easily he feigned different personalities. He was very confident in his ability to act this time, as well. There was something about this man that motivated him an unusual amount to bring him in. “Where are you from?”

“Does it matter?” The man asked, smiling right back. “You’re a native German, right?”

“Right. I swear I have heard that accent before. It is Mediterranean, right?”

The man shrugged. “Yes. Italian. What brings you out and about this beautiful day?"

“I thought so!” Ludwig sat back, crossing his arms with a grin. “An Italian who speaks German. Do you speak any other languages?”

“Spanish, English, French. I can speak a little bit of Cantonese, but I mean a little bit. I would not be able to hold my own by myself.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you! Do you know any other languages?” The man asked.

“Just English. I am not as linguistically inclined as you are.”

The man looked down at his cards as he shuffled them. “You flatter me.” He glanced back up. “You know, I usually charge five euro for a card game, but a handsome, charming man such as yourself, I may just charge you four.”

Ludwig swallowed the excitement of catching the con artist, sitting forward. “What the hell? May as well. How do you play?”

“It’s easy.” The man also sat forward, withdrawing three cards from the middle of the deck with a trained hand. “I have three cards.” He fanned them out, the cards facing Ludwig. “Red three of hearts, red two of hearts, and a black ace of spades. All you have to do is find the ace.”

“That easy?” Ludwig asked.

“That easy.” The man responded. He laid the cards face-down on the table, shuffling them.

Ludwig was careful to keep his eyes on what he knew was the black ace.

The man looked up with a smirk, releasing the cards. “Okay, take your pick.”

Ludwig reached forward and tapped the card on the right. “That one.”

The man's smile slid off his face. He reached forward and flipped the card, revealing the black ace of spades. “Damn. You got it! Most people don’t!” He dug into his back pocket and offered Ludwig four euros.

Ludwig smiled, unsure of what to say as he accepted them.

“Okay, tell you what. Double or nothing! If I win, I get eight euro. If you win, I give eight euro to you.”

Got him. Before this moment, Ludwig had had no solid proof that this man was actually a con artist. But now he would have his opportunity. “Worth the chance!”

The man smiled, taking the cards and resting them back on the table as he began to shuffle. His hand slipped, causing the cards to cascade down to the ground. “Oh! Sorry! I get so clumsy sometimes…” He bent over in his chair and swept the cards up.

Ludwig frowned. He knew that this is when the scam took place. But the man picking up the cards was so quick and so smooth in his movements; Ludwig had no way to see how it was done. It was an impressive trick, that was for sure. Whoever this man was, he had been doing this for a long time.

“Sorry. Back to the game.” He set the cards back on the table and shuffled for a couple moments more before he lifted his hands. “Alright!”

Ludwig pointed to the middle card.

The man flipped it over, revealing a red two of hearts. “Ooh, bad luck. Better luck next time!” He swept the cards into his hands, shuffling them once again. “Unless you want to do triple or nothing?” The man reached forward and held his hand out expectantly.

Ludwig handed the four euros to the man. “No, thank you.”

“What, you scared?” The man taunted with a grin.

“No.” Ludwig reached into his jacket pocket, revealing his badge. “But you should be.”

The man blinked. The change in his demeanor would be damn near invisible unless Ludwig was looking for it. The man smiled. “Officer, I think I am missing something. I am just a man trying to make a living. Surely, you understand that.”

“Oh, I would.” Ludwig responded, sliding the badge back in his pocket. “If you were not cheating.”

“I'm not cheating!” The man protested, his smile dropping.

Ludwig sat forward. “Then certainly you'll let me see your cards.”

“My cards are my private property!”

“Fine. Either way you're going to a holding cell, so you can either go in with more honesty, or you go in until I get a warrant to search your deck.” Ludwig offered. “Take your pick.”

The man reached forward and turned over the cards on the table, revealing a three of hearts and two twos of hearts. He said nothing.

“Right. Come with me.”

The man continued to sit. “Where?”

“To the station.”

The man stood, his entire demeanor changing to one of friendliness. “Whatever you say. Take me to the station, Officer.” He collected his cards off the table.

Ludwig rested a hand on his shoulder. “Lucky for you, it's a short walk. Lucky for me, it's not long for you to come up with an alibi.”

The man stiffened under Ludwig’s touch, but otherwise his face remained unchanged.

Ludwig ignored the stares of the passerby as he told the man his rights.

The man listened, his brow furrowing. “A little slower, please?”

Ludwig read them a little slower. He realized that he had become so used to the words that they slipped out steadily and quickly. For a foreigner, it must have been difficult to keep up. “Do you understand?”

“I do.”

Ludwig steered the man forward. He grabbed his bag, aware of how strange they must have looked as they walked down the street. It was a five minute walk to the station from the café, but he knew that by taking a couple alleyways, he could shave off two minutes. As he had no handcuffs, he had no means to guarantee the man would stay with him except for the iron grip he had on the man’s shoulder. He steered him toward an alleyway.

They passed a garbage truck, the back closing as the garbage man made his way back to the cab.

Suddenly, the man jerked away from Ludwig’s grip and lurched forward, pulling the euros and a card out of his back pocket and tossing them into the garbage truck.

“Wait!” Ludwig burst, shocked.

The door to the garbage truck shut completely and drove down the alleyway and out into the street, apparently not hearing Ludwig’s cries.

“What did you just do?!”

The man returned to Ludwig, turning his back to him wordlessly.

Ludwig grumbled. As infuriating as it was, he knew that the man was exercising his right to remain silent. Regardless, he couldn't help but feel his blood boiling at the act.

They finally made it into the station. It bustled with officers going about their business, each focused on whatever they had to be doing at the moment.

The secretary stood up, frowning as the odd pair approached. “Ludwig? This is your day off!”

“It appears that crime doesn’t take days off.” Ludwig responded. “I was out running some errands when I caught this scam artist.”

“I’ll get a holding cell for you.” The secretary said, lifting his phone.

“Thank you.” He directed his gaze to the man.

The man’s face had changed from a firm resolve to that of a startled innocent man.

Ludwig couldn’t help but feel his stomach drop. “Come on.” He urged, steering the man forward.

Ludwig locked the man in the holding cell, the man standing at the bars and grabbing them in a white-knuckle grip.

Ludwig retrieved a clip board from his desk, lifting it and unfolding his reading glasses.

“I’m not a scammer, I swear! Please, just let me go!” The man pleaded.

Ludwig eyed him over the top of his glasses. He was convincing, that was for sure. If Ludwig had not been caught in the midst of the scam himself, he would have believed the man. “Name?”

“Feliciano Vargas.” The man replied. “Please, I just want to leave.”

“Brown eyes, brown hair…” Ludwig muttered, filling out the form. “Age?”

“Twenty-three.”

Ludwig eyed the man. “Mm.”

The door burst open. “Beilschmidt, what’s the meaning of this? Today is supposed to be your day off.” Captain Kirkland asked, standing in front of the cell.

“Oh, thank God!” Feliciano cried. He spat out several frantic sentences in Italian. “Please, listen to me!”

“A scam artist.” Ludwig answered.

Captain Kirkland raised an eyebrow. “Scam artist, huh?” Captain Kirkland faced Feliciano. “What happened?”

“I was playing solitaire at the nearby café, and this man accused me of being a scam artist and dragged me here after showing me his badge!”

“Right.” Captain Kirkland turned to face Ludwig. “Beilschmidt. What happened?”

“I sat down with Vargas at the café and he tried a card game on me. He gave me three cards, two reds of hearts and one black of spades. He let me win, then he challenged me double or nothing and ‘dropped’ the cards before he picked them back up. I lost the second game, of course. I turned over the three cards and there were two red twos of hearts and one red three of hearts. Then I had what I needed and took him in.”

“Right.” Captain Kirkland grabbed the keys off of the desk and unlocked the door. “Mr. Vargas, I'll conduct a quick search for evidence.”

“Please!” Feliciano stepped out of the cell and held his arms out, obliging the captain.

Captain Kirkland gave him a quick pat-down, pulling a deck of cards out of Feliciano’s back pocket, and a wallet out of his front pocket. “That’s all he has. Beilschmidt, lock him up again.”

Captain Kirkland set the cards down on the desk, opening Feliciano’s wallet. “I.D., a credit card, a gift card to a café, and a couple one euro notes.”

Ludwig glared daggers at Feliciano.

Captain Kirkland turned his back to grab the cards off of the desk.

As Captain Kirkland’s back was turned, Feliciano turned to Ludwig and smirked at him victoriously.

Ludwig glowered back, already knowing that he had lost. That Feliciano would get off Scott free and leave him behind with a tarnished reputation. Ludwig had interacted with many criminals before. But there was something about Feliciano that made his blood boil. But more than that, more concerning…

There was something about Feliciano that made him excited. Intrigued.

Captain Kirkland fanned the deck, thumbing through them individually. With every red heart, he withdrew the card from the deck and set it on the desk. After he went through he fanned them out. “One three of hearts, one two of hearts.” He lay them on the desk, looking to Ludwig with something akin to pity.

Ludwig despised it.

“Beilschmidt, it would be impossible for Mr. Vargas to show you those cards. He doesn’t have them! Not to mention, there's not enough cash substantial enough to prove a con game. I think perhaps you should take a couple more days off.”

“Captain Kirkland-”

“That’s an order, Beilschmidt. For God's sake, you're carrying around your badge during the weekend.” Captain Kirkland interrupted. He turned to Feliciano, unlocking the cell. “Sorry about that, Mr. Vargas. Beilschmidt is usually very reliable. This is an anomaly.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Feliciano grinned, waving dismissively. “I get it! Too much of a hard worker, huh?”

Ludwig didn’t respond. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent saying something he would later regret. He knew that Captain Kirkland’s eyes were on him. “Perhaps.”

“If I could just have my things back…” Feliciano began, holding his hand out.

“Of course.” Captain Kirkland handed Feliciano the cards and wallet. “I will see you out personally.”

“Oh, thank you!” Feliciano grinned.

Captain Kirkland faced Ludwig. “Go on ahead and stay home until next Monday. I look forward to seeing you in.”

Ludwig nodded, clenching his jaw.

Captian Kirkland said something that Ludwig didn't pay attention to and led Feliciano out of the room. Before Feliciano left, though, he turned his head and smirked at Ludwig one more time before he left the station.

The next day, Ludwig was out and about. Not for any particular reason. He just couldn’t stand staying in his apartment. He was not one to laze around. It was like he had a compulsive need to do something. So, for today, he settled on going for a walk and enjoying the pleasant spring afternoon and grabbing coffee. He spotted that same coffee shop from a distance, a bitter taste on the edge of his tongue at the memory of that man. Belatedly, Ludwig noticed Feliciano seated at the café.

Feliciano was looking down, scribbling in a sketchbook, a half-full cappuccino sitting at his elbow as he sketched. He wore a blue button-down. Under the table, a jean-clad leg bounced easily.

Ludwig strode forward, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

Feliciano looked up from his work, smiling. “That is the most aggressively I have ever seen someone sit down.”

“How long have you been scamming?”

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Feliciano asked with a grin. This one was unlike any of the others Ludwig had seen. It was genuine. Full. Happy.

“I- what?” Ludwig asked, his frown loosening slightly with shock.

“A cup of coffee. You. Me. Talking. Coffee.”

“Why?” Ludwig asked.

Feliciano shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I like you. I want to get to know you better.” He smiled. “Besides, I kind of like that thing you do with your jaw.”

Ludwig clenched his jaw. God, this man was irritating. Despite himself, he found himself sort of flattered.

“Yes, that thing!” Feliciano pointed to Ludwig with his pencil.

Ludwig immediately stopped gritting his teeth. “Why would I get coffee with you?”

“I’ll only talk if you let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Feliciano answered.

Ludwig took a moment to weigh his dignity against his desire to learn more about Feliciano. Apparently, his desire outweighed his dignity. “Fine.”

Feliciano reached into his wallet and withdrew the gift card. “There’s enough to get whatever you want from the menu.”

Ludwig eyed the gift card skeptically in his hand.

“It was a gift. It’s not from scammed money, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Feliciano explained, picking up his pencil and once again stroking it on the paper.

Ludwig eyed the man sitting before him and stood up resolutely.

He returned five minutes later, setting his drink on the table and handing Feliciano his gift card.

As Feliciano accepted the card, he glanced at Ludwig’s drink. “Black coffee?”

Ludwig took a seat and sipped his drink.

“Somehow that seems like a good fit for you.”

Ludwig set the cup down on the saucer and glanced down at the velvety black surface of his coffee. “Thank you.”

“Of course!”

“I must admit, despite how much I don’t want to say it, I’m impressed. Not many people can get past Captain Kirkland. You’re not an average scam artist.”

“I’m not average.” Feliciano shut his sketchbook. “I may be running the risk of sounding full of myself, but I’m the best.”

“How long have you been scamming?”

“Since I was a little boy.” Feliciano answered. He spun the pencil absently in his left hand.

“Why?” Ludwig asked, frowning.

Feliciano shrugged. “I didn’t have the easiest childhood. My parents died when I was young, so I was left in the care of my grandpa. He had to work a lot. We were pretty poor, so I picked up scamming to help supplement his income. I would slip the euros in his pocket when he wasn’t looking. It wasn’t a lot, but, you know, it’s coping I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” Ludwig apologized.

Feliciano looked up with an easy grin. “Don’t be. It’s part of life.”

Ludwig paused, looking over Feliciano's shoulder as he thought of something to say. “What are you doing in Germany?”

“My grandpa is doing a lot better now. He expanded his winery, and he wanted my brothers and I to see the world. I travel for art, and I scam every once in a while.”

“Is scamming really that profitable?”

Feliciano shrugged. “Not really. It’s not like I keep it.”

Ludwig frowned confusedly. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t keep it. I give it away. I leave it places, I give it to homeless if I happen to pass ‘em, I buy coffee for whoever’s behind me, that kind of thing.”

“Why?”

“It’s not the money I want. It’s the thrill. I’m not proud of it, but I’m sort of addicted to it.”

“Perhaps it isn’t my business, but does it make you feel guilty? Scamming people of their money?”

“Not really.” Feliciano withdrew a deck of cards from his back pocket, shuffling them absently. “I mean, if you think about it, at most people lose ten euro at most. Sometimes, people don’t go double or nothing and they get away with entertainment five euros richer. Besides, you don’t really have a way of knowing this, but I only operate in high-income areas where people can spare the money.”

“But still. Scamming is scamming.” Ludwig said.

Feliciano stopped shuffling. “I’m a man challenging people for money over three cards. I’m very clearly trying to hustle someone. If you fall for it, then you’re scamming yourself. I’m just the means by which you do it.”

Ludwig took a sip, unsure of what to say.

Feliciano drank his cappuccino. “I’m a nice man. I may not be a good one, but I’m a nice one. I pick up litter, I grab shopping carts left in grocery store parking lots and return them. I work the occasional soup kitchen. I just happen to scam people who can afford it.”

Ludwig looked down at his coffee. “It’s still scamming.”

“It is. But if I can have one vice, which I believe is equally balanced against the good I do, is scamming really that bad?”

“Perhaps not.” Ludwig replied. “I wish the world was black and white. I don’t like grays.”

“The world is never quite that simple.” Feliciano said.

Ludwig, unsure of how to reply, took another sip and watched people walk down the street. He wish he had thought to bring his dog with him.

“Thank you for sitting down with me.”

Ludwig looked over to Feliciano. “You’re welcome. Your story is very interesting. Where are you going next?”

“I haven’t been in Germany very long.” Feliciano answered. “It’s a gorgeous country. I may stay here for a couple weeks more and head off to France with my brothers.”

“If you have time, you should visit the Bradenburg Gate.”

“Oh?” Feliciano asked.

Ludwig nodded. “It is beautiful. It isn’t too far from here. Free admission. A good way to spend the morning.”

Feliciano smiled like he was holding a secret. “Perhaps I should.”

Ludwig smiled back, then quickly looked away. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he couldn’t make eye contact with Feliciano. Something deep in his stomach stirred and his heart beat a little faster. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he would definitely take time to analyze it further later.

“Would you mind taking our dishes into the café?” Feliciano asked.

Ludwig glanced down and noticed that Feliciano’s cup was empty. Ludwig tossed back the last of his coffee and grabbed Feliciano’s saucer. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Looking forward to it.” Feliciano smiled that same secretive grin.

Ludwig waited in line to return his cups. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt disappointed at the thought of Feliciano leaving when he returned. He felt disappointed at the fact that he may not see him again. Perhaps he had found a friend in Feliciano. He briefly thought about exchanging contact information before he shook himself. The man was a con artist. They had talked for maybe half an hour, and here he was wanting to meet up with him again.

What was wrong with him?

He returned outside the café, surprised to see that Feliciano wasn’t there. He felt his heart fall in his chest. He was about to leave when he noticed a playing card sitting on the table. Just a single card. He stepped forward to grab it when a gust of wind carried it off. He sprinted forward to catch it as it flew, running past shops and brushing people as he ran. The wind suddenly whipped left, carrying the card with it. Ludwig lurched forward and caught it before it flew into the street. He took his foot off the street and turned it over in his hands, surprised to find writing on it in black marker.

Meet me at Bradenburg tomorrow. Coffee’s on you this time.

Despite himself, Ludwig smiled down at the card and his heart lifted once more.

[alleiradayne]

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part VII - The Aftermath

Summary: The next morning... Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, mentions of sexual topics Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 1,718 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

The crisp fall breeze cooled her cheeks as Y/N slipped through the front door of Hill Manor, eager to be on her way. With the sun barely above the trees, she had decided to leave then rather than face Sam. She couldn’t bare the thought of disappointing him. She had seen that look on his face before and had vowed to never see it again. Better to remember him smiling in the bar the night before.

“We can keep my involvement out of the story when we talk to the cops, right?”

Dean laughed as he said, “Sure, Y/N. We’ll keep it short.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“No, sweetheart,” he interjected. “Thank you. Right, Sam?”

Sam hefted his glass in salute. “Thank you.”

A shiver ran up her spine at the memory of Sam’s gaze consuming her over the rim of his glass as they drank to her success. Damn him. The point of her trip was not to find a lover. Inspiration for a book. That was it. And she had that in spades. No need to hang about.

Her suitcase thumped on the brick path at the bottom of the steps, and she paused, heart and mind in conflict. A deep breath filled her lungs as she turned around to soak in the essence of the mansion one last time. But instead of the house, she only saw Sam Winchester standing in the arch of the covered porch, staring at her.

“We never got a chance to talk,” he said as he started down the steps.

By no fault of hers. Between guests and police, Sam and Dean had been busy the rest of the night. True to Dean’s word, they had kept her involvement out of the story. And when the police had interviewed her, she claimed to have slept through it all, exhausted from a long day of writing. The officer had recognized her then, and in a complete dereliction of duty, asked for her autograph. Y/N had gladly given it, but then returned to her room for some much-needed sleep.

Except sleeping had only allowed her to process her thoughts, her feelings. Doubt replaced anything she thought she had felt for Sam. And given the near-death experience, she figured it best to leave as early as possible.

Too bad for her, it seemed Sam awoke with the sun as well.

“I’m leaving,” she stated.

“I see that,” Sam said as he looked to her suitcase and started down the stairs. “I made a promise.”

“Yeah, and you didn't keep it,” she retorted. “I had to save everyone.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so angry, so spiteful. Crestfallen, Sam stopped at the bottom of the steps beside her and held out his hand. “I know. I'm sorry.”

No excuses. No reasons. No spin. A genuine apology. She placed her hand in his. “While I appreciate the apology, you shouldn’t need to.”

“You shouldn't have been there,” he said as he pulled her close.

“You would be dead,” she replied.

“True,” Sam agreed. “So, even though we all nearly died, I'm glad you were with us. We made a good team. You did great. I don't know if I'd have thought to destroy the pen.”

Heat crept up her neck and her cheeks stung as she reached for her back pocket. From it she withdrew the black pen, its gold and green veins glimmering in the fall sun.

Sam's eyes damn near popped out of his head. “What did you do, Y/N!?!”

She withdrew the cap and scribbled on her palm. “It's just a pen, now.”

“But what about the one you torched?” he asked. “How did that kill the poltergeist?”

She replaced the cap and jammed the pen back into her pocket. “I took the twin from the inkwell base with me to the ballroom after reading up on liches and poltergeists.”

She wished she could confuse Sam more often just so she could see his furrowed brow and pursed lips. Y/N could hear the gears churning in his head as he said, “Keep talking.”

“Hillstead thought she was a lich. She thought her spell to splice half of her soul into the pen had worked,” she explained. “That’s why she took off every time I threatened to destroy it. But when we tried to trap her back in it,” she paused as she relived moment, “she remembered what living in that pen was like. Drove her mad, all those years alone inside a tiny, dark space. But she had no idea she had become a poltergeist. She had no idea she had killed herself trying to create a phylactery.”

Sam’s face softened as understanding blossomed in his eyes. “She thought you destroyed the other half of her soul,” he said. “And so, when you destroyed the twin, she…”

“Moved on,” Y/N said. “I think. She believed her 'phylactery' had been destroyed, so she believed she was 'dead’ and moved on. Into the light. I hope. Poor girl suffered for a century and a half, alone. In a pen.”

For too long, Sam stared at her and searched her gaze with is own wide eyes. Under such scrutiny, she shivered, but she dared not look away.

“You’re brilliant,” he said under his breath as he pulled her closer. “The way you think… I'm gonna miss the hell out of you.”

Dammit. He would make it difficult. With his hair, and puppy dog eyes, and tender touches, Y/N knew she would regret waking away. But did she want that life? Wedge herself into his and document everything he and his brother did?

“I'll miss you too, Sam,” she sighed. “Next time I stay in a haunted mansion… well, I think I’ll take care of things just fine.”

The red in his eyes stung her own as Y/N turned on her heel and walked away. It was the right thing to do, the best thing. She wasn't a hunter. She was a writer. She'd almost died on her one and only hunt. There was no way she would survive that lifestyle.

At her car, she tossed her suitcase into the trunk, and slammed the lid shut like a finished book. A sort of finality settled in her gut, not quite satisfied with her decision, but accepting it, nonetheless. And though she would miss him, Y/N knew Sam would get over her in a few days. Besides, she had all the material for her book, and that had been her goal for the trip. Not upending her entire life to live with some—

“Y/N!”

She froze in the door of her car, one foot in and the other on the ground. Against her every instinct, Y/N turned over her shoulder and saw Sam running down the path to the drive. He plodded to a halt before her, and as she stepped from the car, he grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her into him.

When his lips landed on hers, her heart leaped into her throat. Their prior trysts compared so little to that connection, to his insistent hands at the small of her back, holding her so tight, and his desperate tongue plying hers. And dear Lord, what strength. Power rippled beneath his coat, restrained despite his palpable need. All of him inundated her senses, his spearmint toothpaste, musty books, three-day scruff, and the quietest of sighs all tearing down her walls, and Y/N melted into him.

Between breaths and fervent kisses Sam clamored for more, gripping and pulling and tugging as though he could never have her close enough. “I don't want you to leave,” he mumbled against her lips.

She pulled back from him and held him at arm’s length as she looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t want to go either. But I can’t be a hunter. I’m not a hunter.”

He pointed at the house. “That, last night? That’s what being a hunter is all about,” he stated. “Pulling a win out of your ass when a thing has you dead to rights. It’s the Winchester way. We don’t know anything else.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to the questions spiraling through her head, so instead of asking how they had survived all their years, she, once again, logged that away on her ever-growing list. “I still think I got lucky.”

“You did,” Sam agreed. “I’d rather be lucky than dead. Besides, you don’t have to hunt. You could… travel with us?”

Inspiration. “I could use your hunts as material for my books?”

Disgust contorted Sam’s pretty face. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Do not put us in your books.”

His tone had turned so gravely serious in a single second, Y/N knew there had to be a story behind that demand. Her brow knotted as she cocked her head to the side. “Alright,” she said. “But this is… terrifying. I’m uprooting my entire life for you.”

“I know,” he said as he hugged her again, and Y/N, powerless in his presence, submitted to his embrace. “I know this is sudden. I'm not one to rush into things. But I would regret it for the rest of my life if we didn't at least try.”

Regret.

Y/N pulled back once more. “Rather to have loved and lost?”

His smile shined brighter than the sun. “Than never to have loved at all.”

She pushed to the tips of her boots and pressed a kiss to his lips so quick, Sam only just caught her. “If we keep,” he paused to kiss her again. “… doing this…” another kiss, “… I’m going to throw you…” a gasp, “… in the backseat of your car,” a moan, “and tear those leggings to shreds.”

“Oh, so the gentleman is a deviant after all!” she said with a laugh against his lips. “And here I thought the butt plugs were just a joke to creep your brother out,” she teased, but her banter faltered when Sam grasped her by the ass and hauled her into his arms.

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” he growled. “But if you come with me, I’d be more than happy to show you.”

His smile against her lips warmed her like the rays of the perfect fall sun breaking through the clouds.

“Take me home, Sam.”

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite  @meowmeow-motherfucker  @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride  @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

[shytalia]

A Prince and a Pirate’s Fate - Chapter 12

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

Chapter Twelve

Start at Chapter one here:https://shytalia.tumblr.com/post/611878754309079040/a-prince-and-a-pirates-fate-usuk-fanfic

Also available on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytalia

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

The next day, they left The King’s Grave and set sail into the open seas once more.

Alfred had been given the rest of the day to rest up but given he was as stubborn as he was, he grew restless. Instead, he decided to check on Peter and was thrilled to see the smaller Brit sitting up in bed. In fact, he even looked like he was already healing fairly quickly. He assumed Arthur’s spell really worked wonders.

He greeted the boy and sat beside his bed in the empty chair, glad to see that Peter was excited to see him too. Well, since they both had been given orders to rest and heal up, Alfred saw no point in having to do so separately.

“Here, I’ll show you how to play that card game like I promised.” The Prince smiled at the excited way Peter cheered as he brought out the cards.

--- ♠ --- ♠ --- ♠ ---

The next few days went rather well, all things considered. Alfred wasn’t healing as fast as Peter was since Arthur couldn’t perform the spell on him like he could his brother. But, the Brit’s efforts to help him sped up the process incredibly anyway.

Arthur was more or less acting like his usual self, never bringing up anything that had happened at the harbor. Alfred wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. After all, even if he was told not to develop feelings, he yearned to hold Arthur close to him. He would, he told himself, one day he would convince Arthur to be his. Not because of some mark, but because he could feel himself falling hard for the captain. He just wanted Arthur to feel the same.

For now, he would enjoy the small interactions he got with the grumpy Brit.

“Did you hear?” A crew member said within earshot. Alfred pulled at some ropes and tightened the ends as he eavesdropped, not very interested but it was hard not to when the men were so close. “Apparently the Spade prince has gone missing.”

Alfred froze.

“Missing?” The other man said.

“Yes. There’s no word on a ransom yet. You think he finally got offed?”

The two men laughed darkly, but Alfred was doing anything but. Cool sweat dripped down his brow but thankfully he had been sweating before so it was easy to mask.

“I hope not. Think of the money we would get returning the brat back to mommy and daddy.” They laughed more. “Or...I rather think Captain Kirkland would love to get his hands on him. That would be fun to watch, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t want to be the prince if Captain got a hold of me, that’s for sure.”

Alfred felt his stomach twist and fought the urge to puke. He should’ve realized that sooner or later his disappearance would become gossip throughout all the kingdoms. It wasn’t exactly every day a prince up and vanishes for weeks on end, after all.

“Hey! Stop idling and get back to work!” Gilbert yelled across the dock, causing the two gossiping crew mates to flinch and quickly return to their duties. “And you,”

Alfred flinched when he realized those red eyes were on him. They lingered on him uncomfortably and the prince could only wonder what the albino was thinking as he stared. Finally, the tension was broken when the other man opened his mouth for more orders.

“Just ‘cause you’re The Captain’s pet doesn’t mean you get to slack off either. Hurry the hell up!” The albino man barked, his thoughtful gaze replaced by a more stern one. Alfred quickly did as he was told.

Nearly an hour later, Lukas stalked onto the deck and quietly stood beside the commanding pirate.

“Gilbert.” He greeted lowly, though his gaze focused elsewhere. “I apologize for the interference, but I will be taking Alfred for just a short while.”

“Huh? What are you talking about now? He’s got work to do, Captain’s orders that he makes himself useful with the others unless he needs him.” Gilbert frowned.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be long. If The Captain asks, refer him to me. I assure you, I’ll take all the blame.” Lukas replied easily, noticing the look of thought crossing the other man’s face.

“Mn...I guess. But only ‘cause you helped us get The Captain back.” He settled, nodding for the Norwegian to take Alfred. He didn’t bother asking what he was needed for, it was no doubt some sort of ���divine bidding’. Normally Gilbert would scoff at it, but having the religious figure around did sometimes help the morale of the crew. Who knew having a neutral party to spill all your sins out to could help a bunch of misfits?

“Thank you.” Was the basic reply before Lukas moved forward, walking quietly towards the sweating teen as he moved a heavy crate. “Alfred,”

“Gods!” Said man turned around with startled, wide eyes. He hadn’t even heard the other blonde come up behind him. “Oh man, it’s just you. Lukas, isn’t it? What’s up?”

“Follow me, I wish to talk to you for a bit. It’s alright, I’ve already spoken to Gilbert.” Lukas waved his hand in a welcoming motion before turning around and leading the way below the deck.

Alfred was hesitant to follow but a quick glance in the albino’s direction, and the nod he received from him, allowed his feet to move and follow. He trailed behind the shorter blonde curiously until they came to a small room covered in idols and trinkets. There were symbols of the gods all around and even a small statue of the goddess on a table. She was surrounded with candles and incense, obviously meant to replicate an actual temple and altar. For being on a pirate ship, Alfred had to give it some credit as it really wasn't half bad.

“So...what did you need to talk to me about?” He couldn’t help the edge in his voice. He was nervous, unsure about what Lukas could possibly want from him. He had never spoken to him before, after all, so why now all of a sudden?

Instead of answering, the Norwegian closed the door and motioned for his guest to sit in one of the chairs by a small table.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Lukas told him. “You’re Arthur’s now, so no one on this ship will harm you.” Not unless the British captain wanted them to, of course. But, he’d leave that part out. So far, their leader had shown no signs of wanting that. “Gilbert was rough on you today, please relax. Here, have some tea.”

A cup was placed in front of Alfred and steaming liquid poured into it. Alfred wasn’t the biggest fan of tea, but he did learn that Arthur absolutely adored the stuff. Plus, he guessed he shouldn’t be too picky considering what they had was limited until they reached their next port.

“Thanks. Yeah, Gilbert can be kind of an ass.” He said it before he could think better of it and bit his lip, hoping he wouldn’t be ratted out.

“Gilbert isn’t as bad as he seems.” Lukas countered quietly. “He is in a position of authority, after all. His job is to ensure the work is done and done well. But he is a nice enough man at the end of the day, the two of you may even get along rather well.” The shorter man took his place in the chair opposite of Alfred, sitting down and sipping his own drink.

The prince snorted at that. “Yeah, sure.”

“He’s much like Arthur in that aspect. You enjoy The Captain’s company, do you not?”

Alfred nearly spat out his tea at that. “H-Huh? Oh, well, I mean--” He stammered. He did enjoy being around Arthur, more than he probably should considering he was a pirate. This whole mission of his wasn’t just about convincing him to come back to the castle with him anymore. No, now it was even more. Alfred wanted Arthur to be happy and safe. He wanted to love him and for the Brit to love him back. “Yes, I do.” He croaked out.

“I thought so,” Lukas said evenly, as if the man across from him wasn’t a confused mess of nerves and emotions.

The silence between them was stale for a while. Lukas made no more efforts to make conversation and Alfred was swimming in his thoughts.

Was it really that obvious that he liked Arthur? Of course to the captain it would be more obvious, but they had so many moments in private together that would make it clear. But what about the other crew members? Did they know? They must, if Lukas did. Though the man was more observant than the others.

Maybe Arthur had told him? The two talked like good friends would, it wouldn’t be a leap in logic to think that he had simply been gossiped about. If that was the case...what had Arthur said? Had he made fun of him for his feelings? Did he confess some sort of attraction as well?

Alfred was nearly ready to explode from all these different scenarios playing through his head that he didn’t notice Lukas staring at him until he spoke.

“Arthur still doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

“What?” Alfred was snapped from his thoughts and his eyes met with Lukas’s.

“Excuse me for being blunt, your majesty.”

The Norwegian’s words chilled the prince to his bones. A rush of panic and fear washed over him like the tides, crashing into him and knocking the wind from his lungs. He had no time to recover before the other man continued.

“You’ve done very well to hide your mark from him for this long. But tell me, what is your plan when he does find out?”

Alfred’s throat went dry. Lukas knew who he was. Lukas knew and he could tell everyone, he could tell Arthur! How long had he known? Why hadn’t he told them yet?

“Please...don’t tell him.” Alfred’s voice was so quiet it was barely even a whisper.

Lukas seemed to ponder the words for a moment and nodded. “I haven’t told him yet, have I? But I suggest you figure out what you’re going to do when he does find out.” He told him pointedly. “Do not make it hurt worse for him than it already will.”

“I-I don’t want to hurt him!” Alfred exclaimed quickly. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Arthur. “H-He’s...he’s everything I could’ve wanted. No, no he’s more. Oh my gods,” He whispered, eyes staring in some mix between fear and hope as he looked to the statue of the goddess on the makeshift altar. Some sense of realization washed over him. “I’m falling in love with him. I want him to be my queen but I want him to be happy... to be happy with me.”

Lukas was characteristically quiet for a while before he spoke. “Do you know where we are headed now?”

Alfred looked back over to the man in front of him, eyes desperate for something he couldn’t touch. “No.” He answered, wondering why he would bring that up amidst everything that had just been said.

Lukas hummed softly. “We are sailing to Britannia.” He could tell by the look on the prince’s face that the name rang a bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. He took it upon himself to elaborate. “Britannia is the island Arthur is from. He is going home.” It was no doubt that almost losing Peter ruffled up some sort of homesickness for the Brit. “This will not be a simple visit. Prince Alfred,” he saw the way the title made the other man stiffen. “If you truly want Arthur to be happy, you will need to see why he despises you so much.”

Alfred nodded to show he was listening even though his voice was stuck in this throat. He swallowed and forced it out. “I don’t want him to hate me.”

“I know you don’t.”

“How?” He couldn’t help but ask. Everything in him was swirling in confusion, most of all why Lukas would help him and not tell Arthur who he really was. “Why are you doing this? Why not tell Arthur the truth about me?”

The smaller man seemed to ponder this for a moment, but he was quick to answer. “The Goddess has declared that the two of you are the rightful heirs of the Spade Kingdom. I heard her call and answered it. Those years ago when I assisted in freeing Arthur from your royal guards was because she requested me to.”

“What? But if Arthur was going to be brought to the castle, why free him? Shouldn’t the goddess want him to be there as soon as possible since she gave him the mark to begin with?” Alfred asked, bewildered. He never said he fully understood the gods and their ways, but giving Arthur the mark only to keep them apart was incomprehensible to him.

“I can’t speak for her,” Lukas admitted. “However, from where I stand, it seems like it was the best course of action at the time.” Seeing the confusion furrow deeper in Alfred, he continued. “Think. What would have happened had Arthur been dragged against his will to the castle then? There would be no hope of redemption for you in his eyes. Only hatred.”

“But I didn’t do anything! All I have is a mark that matches his, I don’t want to force him into anything.”

“That doesn’t matter because it isn’t your choice. Tradition would have been followed regardless of what you or he wanted. Arthur would have been crowned, but in doing so he would have lost his ship, his crew, his freedom, and most likely his brother.”

“Why would he lose Peter? He can come live in the castle with us!” He would love having the kid around.

Lukas didn’t reply for a while, sitting there quietly until Alfred shifted nervously in his seat. He chose not to answer the question and settled for something else. “If you want a chance at love with Arthur, you will have to delve into his darkness...and you may not like what you see.” His voice was low but clear, watching the reaction Alfred gave him carefully. The younger boy looked just as confused, if not now scared, as before. “The Goddess asked for my aid in this journey but in the end, it is up to you and Arthur to create your own fates.”

Alfred knew what he wanted, he wanted Arthur to be his but he also wanted him to be happy. He promised himself he would make sure it happened no matter what.

“Here, keep this.” Lukas pulled the necklace from his neck, offering it over to his guest who took it with hesitant hands. “You know what it is already, but for clarity’s sake, it’s the symbol of The Goddess. Keep it on you and let it remind you of what you want your fate to be. May She bless whatever path you choose to follow.”

--- ♠ --- ♠ --- ♠ ---

The conversation with Lukas left Alfred anxious and paranoid. Surely if one person recognized him then someone else would eventually too. There was also the overwhelming thought that his identity would get to Arthur somehow as well, which was the last thing he wanted. He would tell him the truth eventually, he had to, but he wanted to do it on his own terms. He wanted Arthur to be able to forgive him.

These worries plagued his thoughts for the rest of the trip. Over two weeks later they landed on the coast of a green island, by a small, sea-side town. Their large ship looked painfully out of place parked at the humble dock, surrounded only by small boats used for fishing.

The crew members were allowed off the ship, but were instructed specifically to be ‘well-behaved’. Alfred found the command a little humorous considering they were pirates, after all, but no one had complained and even acted as if they had expected it. They respected their captain enough to listen.

“Gilbert,” Arthur voiced after having sought out the man on the deck of the ship. “You’re in charge of The Siren’s Arrow until I return. I trust you’ll keep everything in order.”

“Of course, Cap. Leave it to the awesome me!”

“Good. Alfred, you’re coming with me. Here, carry this.” The Brit handed the younger man a bag to sling around his back before he looked to his brother. Thankfully he had healed up quite nicely and looked alright to go out for the day. “Peter, are you ready?”

“Yeah!” The boy cheered excitedly, basically jumping in anticipation. “I love when we get to come back home.”

Arthur offered the smaller blonde a slight smile before motioning them to follow, stepping off the ship and into the town. They spent little time there, however, as Arthur continued onward. He guided them on a small, dirt path out of the little village and through some trees, leading out to fields and fields of long, green grass.

Alfred held his breath seeing it. It was like a scene from a painting, where the grass gently licked the blue skyline. It was like stepping into a rural portrait in one of the castle halls. But actually being here was so much better than seeing it on a canvas. Here he could smell the salty air and feel the grass dance against his fingertips as he reached out to it. It was a kind of calm that he had never experienced before and suddenly, he found himself staring out in front of him to Arthur and Peter.

The two brothers walked side by side, Peter eagerly skipping along beside Arthur who, every so often, gave the boy a content smile. It was picture perfect. It looked right seeing them together here. Like they were meant to be here and nowhere else.

It wasn’t until the pirate turned his head and gave him a confused look that Alfred noticed he had stopped walking completely, too enraptured by the sight of Arthur being so blissfully happy to even move.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

The words were genuine, their concern and worry piercing Alfred’s heart and pulling him in deeper. He didn’t want this to end, he realized. He wanted to see that peaceful look in Arthur’s eyes every day of his life. He wanted to see Arthur be this happy every waking moment.

“Alfred?” Peter had stopped now too, confused as he turned around just as his older brother had. “Are you okay?”

Something caught in his throat and kept the words from coming out, but he managed to nod and continue onward. He caught the troubled glance Arthur gave him at that moment but the Brit didn’t voice his concerns, instead he turned and continued their pace up the shallow hills.

Eventually, Alfred saw a small building come into view. Sitting atop a hill, only a short distance away from the calm waters was a modest home. It was hardly anything to be proud of, not looking even big enough for a small family. Still, he had to admit, it had a certain charm to it that drew him in.

Peter cheered when the house came into view and he ran the rest of the way to it, bounding through the door without knocking. Alfred was worried he might be busting in on a kind family, but Arthur surprisingly didn’t mind, so he guessed his fears were misplaced.

Catching up to the boy, Alfred glanced around and found they were the only people there. The inside of the building was just as humble and simple as the outside. The rooms were small and decorated with only simple, wooden furniture, the only pops of color being handmade items like pillows and blankets. It was the stark opposite of the castle back home filled with gold and riches.

Yet, this didn’t seem to bother Arthur or Peter at all. The two of them making themselves at home as if they’d lived there their entire lives.

Then, it hit him. Lukas had said they were headed to The Island of Britannia, where Arthur had been born and raised. Could this really be where the extravagant captain had come from?

“Here, let me see the bag.” The Brit pulled at the sack still hung around the prince’s shoulders, easily pulling it off and setting it on the kitchen table. The wooden piece of furniture nearly took up the entire room, making it appear even smaller than it already did. He dug through it and pulled out a small box of tea leaves and a pot, setting them on the table before moving to the stove to start a fire. “Alfred, will you take that bucket and get some water? There’s a pump just outside, around back.”

The prince dutifully nodded, willing to do anything to keep Arthur this happy. “No problem, I’ll be back in no time, Cap!” He grabbed the bucket from its spot and went back outside, rounding the building and easily finding the pump Arthur had mentioned.

The water pump wasn’t the only thing behind the home, however, and Alfred couldn’t help but stop and stare. Resting, neatly cleaned and well cared for were four graves lined in a row, each marked by a slab of stone. They were shadowed by a large tree, its branches leaning over them as if to shield them from the sun.

He gripped the bucket a little tighter in his hand as he looked them over. It wasn’t a feeling of fear, despite the fact they were utterly alone and no one would hear him if he did scream. No, the stones carved with the names of those past sent a wave of heartache over him. He had no idea why, he didn’t know these people or how they had died. For all he knew, they were awful people or they had lived long, fulfilling lives. But something in him told him neither of those things were true.

“That’s our family.”

Alfred jumped, turning to see Peter standing beside him. Despite what he said, he still held a joyful grin on his young face.

“This one here is our mum,” The boy walked over and patted one of the stones under his small hand. He gave the name marker a wide smile before motioning the others beside it. “And these are our big brothers! This one’s Alistair, he is the oldest.” He pointed at each grave as he named them off, not bothered at all by the heart-rending act. Did Peter not feel the sense of gloom Alfred was feeling? He looked as happy as ever. “And this is Owen, he’s the next oldest. And this one’s Liam, he’s the third!”

The young boy grinned over at Alfred as he introduced each passed family member. The realization that Arthur didn’t have just one brother but four shook him to his core. How had he never heard these names before? Why was Arthur’s truth not being told to him? Did his parents really not think it was important to tell him about his future husband’s family?

Peter didn’t notice the forlorn in Alfred’s eyes and continued anyway.

“Next is Arthur, but you know him already. He’s mum’s fourth son, and then there's me! I’m the last!” He pointed at himself excitedly. “Arthur takes care of me now, but we like to come back and visit our mum and our brothers sometimes, when we can.” He explained, as if it were that easy. As if this was the same as a small walk down the road to visit your favorite neighbor.

The ease in which Peter talked about his family broke Alfred’s heart to pieces. He wondered, how did it make Arthur feel?

“It’s really pretty here and I miss it a lot sometimes. But, Arthur says we can’t stay too long. There’s a lot of royal ships around, I think they look for him here because they know we always come back.” Peter sat on the ground in front of the graves, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them. “I don’t really understand why they want him so bad. I mean, if he doesn’t want to marry some prince then he shouldn’t have to, right? They can’t make him marry someone. That’s not how love works. You’re supposed to love the person you marry, aren’t you?”

Alfred felt his hands shaking. He wondered how a child no older than twelve could really be sitting there in front of his dead family and be so content with the chaos that surrounded him. The chaos that his family was causing.

“Alfred? Aren’t you supposed to be getting some water? Arthur will get cranky if you take too long and he doesn’t get his tea.” Peter warned, snapping the prince out of his emotions long enough to walk over to the pump and set the bucket in front of it. He pushed it until the water started to leak out of it, filling the container with clear liquid.

“Are you coming inside?” Alfred forced himself to ask, his voice strained from the emotional burden he was feeling.

“Nah, not yet. I want to sit out here a little longer. But I’ll come in once the tea is done.” The boy smiled warmly.

Alfred only nodded and carried the bucket back towards the house.

[malyceaduncastellan]

Dear enemy brother

Hi guys! Honestly, I… didn’t expect that simply telling someone I was writing that AU would bring me so much popularity, I’m honestly stunned but… Not in a bad way, that’s for sure!

And for you guys, the third addition to the Dear Enemy Brother AU! Please enjoy!

Honor above all

When Jonah had woken up that day, he immediately gave up on the hypothesis that everything that had happened to him had been a dream. This wasn’t the ceiling of his room at headquarters. Nor was it the infirmary’s room.

He was in a bed with red-stained sheets, a strobbing pain in his stomach and an awful headache that made him feel dizzy. It took him some time to realize he couldn’t move his left arm. Turning his head or lifting it felt like hell.

-Ugh…

God, his head pounded horribly. He couldn’t stand that, really.

A voice he usually despised to hear rang in his ears.

-Don’t even try to move, Clingy Clemence. You should still be having this beauty sleep right now.

A needle was carefully shoved in his right arm, and the dizziness intensified until everything was black again.

The next time he woke up, he had to admit he felt a little better. The sheets weren’t blood-stained anymore, and his left arm seemed to be responding. He was pretty sure he hadn’t eaten in a while, yet the nausea that came to him convinced him he didn’t need to eat.

-Feeling better?

Jonah suddenly looked at the one who asked him that.

-I’m dead, aren’t I?

-No, but from your wounds, I’m sure you did your best.

Purple eyes scanned him suspiciously.

-You realize that stepping wounded in enemy territory is actually pretty reckless?

-What happened?

-You mean you don’t know?

Sirius Oswald, Queen of Spades, looked positively stunned.

-My mind is blurry.

Jonah didn’t feel strong enough to be snarky. His head hurt and he whimpered under the pain. It seemed to him that he could die only from that. He didn’t even notice Sirius’ hand on his arm.

-Doctor! He might need more painkillers!

It took what seemed to him like an eternity to finally be back to his senses.

-How many wounds did I have?

-Only three. But well, considering there was a hole in your stomach, a flow of blood on your hair and one of your bones going out of your arms, I’m guessing something went wrong. Did some of ours go wild at the border?

Suddenly remembering the whole scene, Jonah shook his head.

-No. No border fight involved. I was told to go solve a skirmish not far away from where you found me. They told me it was just a few men.

-I suppose there was more than a few.

-They were at least fifty. We were barely fifteen. Not… enough.

Jonah let out a sigh.

He wouldn't tell the Black Army what those men said. He wouldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t if he wanted too. Everything felt surreal.

“Well, sounds like master Amon was right, the King Lancelot did give us a lot of good experiments subjects!”

As good as Jonah was with a sword, he was no match for that much people. Neither were his men, and he screamed at the top of his lungs for them to escape. He didn’t even know if some of them made it. Then one of the disciples of the Magic Tower made him lose his sword and planted it in his stomach. Another one hit him with a stone on his head. He tried to escape and ended up with his arm broken from the fall.

He knew Black Territory was near the place, and hoped that those men thought he was too uptight to be willing to step in.

Just a few more meters, he thought when he almost reached the border and he heard a patrol.

The moment he finally got there, his mind went blank.

And now he found himself here. Betrayed by his king. Betrayed, somehow, by the Army this man was leading. Betrayed. Wounded. Angry.

-We wanted to call for your army right away, but saving you was a hard catch. But now, I guess we can tell them you’re alive and well.

-Don’t. It’s better if…

Sirius’ eyes turned skeptical, and Jonah knew he had to give him a satisfying explanation if he wanted to escape the grip of the Red Army.

-If you tell them you got me right now, they might think you did this. Let them look for me.  And when I’m fully healed, I’ll go back myself.

The last sentence was a lie, he knew that already. But going back there wasn’t an option. The oh-so-righteous Red Army, not-so-righteous already. It just wasn’t possible for him to go back to an Army lead by a traitor and a liar.

He had seen Lancelot’s signature on that contract the disciples shoved in his face to make him accept the truth. He could have recognized a fake one. This one definitely wasn’t fake, and Lancelot had sent his own men, including his right-hand-man to death.

There was no way he’d go back there. The Red Army just had lost its honorable looks.

-I believe you’re lying, said Sirius, bringing Jonah out of his thoughts. I don’t know what you’re going through. I won’t try to know either. But if you don’t want to go back to the Red Army, we won’t force you to. We value freedom even for you. Stay as much as you like.

Sirius’ sentences weren’t made for nothing. No one at the Black’s headquarters treated him as the Queen of Hearts. He simply was a wounded man found on the border, a guest that had to be respected and cared for.

Two weeks in, and Jonah Clemence was declared as dead or missing by the Red Army. And he knew what that meant. He knew who the Queen of Hearts now was, and it made him furious. But he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t go back. Not yet, not now.

Every night, he went to sleep crying and begging his dear little brother for forgiveness. He swore he would tell him what the Kind he was now serving was really like. He wouldn’t let his brother die for the King of Hearts’ whims.

And that’s how he came back to training. Two months after the Skirmish and he was practically as good as before.

He helped the Black Army as much as he could, progressively taking in Sirius’ paperwork, claiming that he had been Queen and that he knew how all of those worked. He found out how those men really were, never going back on their words, deadly honest with each other, hardworking. Sure, family ties were important to him, but now he wished they had meant nothing for his brother wouldn’t have been forced to serve King Lancelot.

He slowly became one of them without knowing. The Jack of Spades, especially, felt like an ally. He was the oldest of the Chosen Thirteen at 37. Somehow, Jonah knew that man found out why he stayed there on Black Territory, even though he never had told him anything.

Their talks on the evenings were always pleasant and despite being a Black Army officer, he was a refined man with good manners and a sustained language, which pleased Jonah.

He sometimes left to patrol at the borders and was the one who found him and saved him, so a lot a gratitude was involved, but Jonah knew that there was more to it. He became friends with Thanos Howard, Jack of Spades.

Since he was now well and fine, they often fought on training ground, Thanos claiming he needed to keep in shape and “lacking of worthy opponents”. Sometimes, the ten of Spades joined them, and it was probably the first time Jonah ever admitted he had fun while fighting.

Thanos was strong, deadly strong, being able to defeat Jonah and Seth at the same time, but Jonah happened to beat him sometimes, which earned him a lot of praise. It felt weird to him to feel that he was more than the pretty-faced heir of the Clemence Family, but it also felt good to feel worthy. It felt good to be proud when he walked through the corridors and he heard the soldiers praising his fighting skills.

He certainly didn’t expect what would happen. As usual, Thanos was gone on patrol that day, so Jonah replaced his expert mind while watching the soldiers train. A shout interrupted the training session and one of Thanos’ soldier came running in panic.

They brought back a dying Jack of Spades to headquarters, and the doctors couldn’t do anything for him. Jonah didn’t get to see his friend one last time as he only got to see the other officers before dying.

He felt angry. According to the soldiers, masked men attacked them while the patrol was running and the Jack had been hurt in the process. They said they didn’t know who the attack was from, until one soldiers lost his mask and revealed a Red Army man.

Jonah was furious. So he didn’t even ask any questions when he was called with the Black Army officers in Ray’s office.

It seemed that they were all waiting for him, which made him suspicious. Did they think he had planned this…?

-Relax, man, said Fenrir, Ace of Spade, while looking at him. We’re not suspecting you. It’s actually quite the opposite.

-We want to thank you, Seth said, for being a friend to Thanos and coping with us insulting the Red Army for his death. But we have urgent matters so the thanks will have to wait. Boss?

Ray nodded and looked at Jonah right in the eyes.

-I’ll make things short. I hope you know what Thanos’s murder means.

Jonah knew, of course. He was a soldier too, after all.

-The Red Army will need to pay. You will ask for a suitable punishment. However, as soon as they will here this, the Red Army will launch a war for honor.

An honor they had lost long ago for him, but he knew how that Army worked, he had worked for it.

-Yes. And I want you to make a choice. A choice I hate to force on you but a choice you have to make. We kept you here because you never acted as an enemy. But if war launches, whose side are you on?

-Yours.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate even one second. Thanos’ death had made painfully clear to him that he didn’t consider the Red Army worth it anymore. He would fight them for his friend and for the men that brought him back to life even knowing who he was. They were trustworthy. They were righteous. They were honorable. And he would fight for that.

-That’s what Thanos would have wanted to hear, Ray said. Because, you see… He wrote that before going on patrol. And he told us the exact same thing on his death bed. The thing is… Will you answer his call, Jonah Clemence?

Ray handed him a letter written in neat handwriting and clear words.

“I, Thanos Howard, Jack of Spades, hereby give my wills concerning my current position.

Knowing my dear army's functioning, I know these wills may or may not be respected and I acknowledge that fully.

However, as you know it, I'm the oldest of the officers, and it's time for me to make my retreat to live a peaceful life, which is why this will be my last patrol.

Therefore, I would like to recommend a name for my replacement as the Jack of Spades. You know him for his implication, his fighting skills and his loyalty.

I would like to recommend Jonah Clemence for this position.

Yours truly, Thanos Howard, Jack of Spades.

May freedom soar on raven wings.”

Ray waited for him to read the letter and said:

-We actually are considering his proposition. The soldiers like you and would find you worthy of the position. So, do you take the call?

He didn’t hesitate.

-In memory of my dear friend, I will.

And he wouldn’t flinch, he knew it. He would tell his brother about the truth lying in the Red Army core. He would avenge his men. He would avenge Thanos, and retrieve his honor.

For now, and until death would come upon him, he was Jonah Clemence, Jack of Spades.

[blueangelicrose]

A New Beginning:Chapter 3:An Unexpected Reunion

As soon as the waiter left the table, the REAL conversation began. And if Adrian had known that what he was about to say would land him in the doghouse, he would've kept his mouth shut. "So~...." He began. "What's the REAL reason that you're mad at me?" Joan gave him a look that said, "What do you mean?" But in a very ticked off way. He flinched a little, but continued. "Well, I mean, I've known you for my whole life and I know that I've done things that would tick you off. But not to the point to where you're using your silent fury on me. And I know that bringing you here without your consent has you hopping mad, but I have the feeling that's not the only thing." Joan didn't say a thing and turned her head the other way so that she didn't have to look at him, and gave a silent "Hmph!" He looked surprised, then he said, "Oh, c'mon Joan! You can tell me what's bothering you. I'll understand!" He sighed, and said under his breath, "I thought you trusted me. I thought you were my best friend." And that's when she snapped. "It's BECAUSE you're my best friend that I THOUGHT I could trust you! But you violated that trust when you brought me HERE of all places without even telling me beforehand! You knew how I felt about this place and yet here we are! Oooohhhh.... just because you have incredible lucky powers, doesn't mean that you'll win in any of these gambling games! This is THE Devil's Casino! What makes you think that HE doesn't have a trick or two up his sleeve?! And what makes you think that HE or his employees won't plan to cheat while playing the game, hmmm?! I swear, Adrian, out of all the things that you've done to tick me off from all the years that we've known each other for, this is probably the most hurtful thing you've done to me!" She looked at his hurt expression on his face and saw that people were staring at them and whispering to each other. She sighed, and said, "I'm going to the bar. You can eat then play your stupid games. Make sure you tell the waiter that I'm going to the bar to order and have my meal. And like I said before, you're paying for both of us. Oh and before I forget, whatever you do, don't bet on more than you have. Or else your soul will be taken. I don't want to have to explain to your family that I let you die while on my watch. And the last thing I need is to have more guilt on my conscience. Stay safe, okay?"

She walked away from the table and headed over to the bar and ordered a water with a lemon wedge in it. The bar tender was a tall and buff looking man with a square whiskey bottle for a head. Joan looked at his name tag on his uniform. It said that his name was Whiskey Glass (NMOC). He raised a brow and asked if that was all she was having. She replied, "Yes, but I'm having a waiter come over here and serve me my food. Why you ask?" He said that he thought it was strange for an angry woman to come over to a bar and only ask for water instead of alcohol. "I just need to stay away from a friend of mine that ticked me off. I don't really drink alcohol. Never have and probably never will. And would like to keep it that way. No offense." He replied, "None taken. Even WE get a few customers like you from time to time." 'We?' what did he mean by that? Then at that exact moment two more glasses for heads-like people showed up. One was short and had thick eyebrows and a brown and thick mustache. His name was Rum Glass (NMOC). And the other was a tall woman with an giant olive in her head. Her name was Martini Glass (NMOC). Joan wondered if they were related to each other somehow. The two glasses told Whiskey that they were needed by the boss for some reason. He told them that he would be there in a minute or two. He just had to serve Joan her water first.

Joan asked if that was okay making his boss wait. He said it was fine. It won't take him long to give her the water. He also said, "The boss is in a good mood today. So he won't mind." Soon enough he served her the water and left the counter. "By the way, the new guy will be over here in a minute. He'll serve you anything else you want to drink, besides water. Just take it easy on him. Like I said before, he's new." Joan smiled and nodded to say she understood. He smiled back and left with the other two.

"Strange..." She thought to herself. She never once thought that she would smile in a place like this in a million years. I guess it just depends on the type of people that you meet that can change your mood drastically. As she continued to think to herself she was about to take a sip of her drink, when she realized that she almost forgot something. She put the drink down, and pulled out from her pocket a small bottle of Holy Water. Despite the bartender being friendly to her and all. She couldn't take a chance in this place. I mean, it's called the Devil's Casino for a reason. Once she put a few drops of the water in her drink, she stirred it up, and took a long sip. She sighed in relief. The water was absolutely refreshing! Despite her sudden relief, she still felt bad at yelling at Adrian. But she was still mad at him for deceiving her. But she knew that she had to forgive him sooner or later.

So as she was thinking of a way to apologise to Adrian, she unknowingly drank all her water in one go. Then out of the blue, a familiar voice that she thought that she would never hear again cut through her deep thoughts like a sword cutting a piece of paper. She raised her head and replied, "What?" And as she looked at him her eyes widened and her mouth slightly ajar. A short man with a mug for a head, a blue nose, a white and blue striped straight straw sticking out from the top, and wearing a blue themed casino work uniform with a blue spade patch sown on the corner of his vest stood before her behind the counter. He replied, "Do you need any more to drink miss? I'm filling in for Whisky for now, but I think he'll be back soon. Just have some patience with me. I'm new at this. I'm normally the waiter, but we're short on staff today. Please treat me well. Oh, and before I forget, my name is Mugman (NMOC) and my twin brother, Cuphead (NMOC), will be replacing your previous waiter. He'll be over in a minute to take your order as soon as he's done with your friend over there. But either way, do you need anymore to drink miss?"

She was so distraught, shocked, and nervous that she could hardly answer. She nervously looked behind her to see if what she thought was HIM was just a mistake. But there was no mistake. The person that would soon come over and take her order was the boy that she fell in love with years ago. And the one before her was his brother who she considered as her brother as well. She finally was able to ask him a question without stuttering. "Mugman....?" He replied, "Yes miss?" She nervously swallowed whatever was preventing her from talking, took a deep breath, and asked, "Do you and your brother remember me?"

To be continued....

End of chapter three. To be continued in chapter four.

[octoberwren]

Of Coffins and Dragon Slayers.

A Sherlolly fanfic.

So this is my attempt at the coffin scene that never was, where Moffat originally had Molly in the coffin.

 I'm a bit rusty with writing fanfics and have never written for Sherlock, so here's hoping. But hell I had tons of fun writing it. And I love Sherlolly so bloody much.

Hope you enjoy the read. You can also see it on AO3 

It took Molly a bit longer to realise where she was, she was ashamed to admit, considering her profession.

So when the cotton that was swimming in her brain finally lifted, she came to the startling realisation that yes, she was indeed buried in a coffin. And when that thought entered her mind, a second almost immediately followed.

Sherlock bloody Holmes.

He would be the only reason she found herself six feet under.

Although that wasn't exactly fair to the beautifully idiotic man, she wasn't dead yet, and no matter who was threatening her life at the moment, he wasn't to blame. No matter that he attracted the insane like bee's to honey.

Although she couldn't for the life of her slowly fading life figure out why she should matter to those who are insane. She had a perfectly confident view of herself. She was a successful career woman, she had made a makeshift family that she absolutely adored, even if it had been struck by a devastating loss as of late.

Molly took in a shuddering breath as the grief that was never far from her these days slowly swam in her veins, just thinking about Mary. The woman who was one of the strongest people Molly had ever come across who had, had her life extinguished in a matter of seconds.

Something that maybe she was about to have in common with the brave woman.

Which led her back to the why of it all. Sure her and Sherlock were friends, she helped him with work in the lab, they were even Godparents to darling little Rosie, but that didn't put her on the list of people that was needed to send the consulting detective into a mad race against time. To lead him onto a building and throw himself over.

Molly for all that she loved the man, knew her importance in his life, he wouldn't be devastated by her loss. Sure he would be upset but he'd move on. On to the next case, the next thrill of adventure, wiping out the unjust of the world.

And really Molly, she thought quite irritatedly, maybe now is the time to stop thinking of knights on horse's coming to slay the dragon. Maybe now's the time to figure out a way to get out of this mess yourself.

But no matter how hard she forcefully slammed her hands against the lid it didn't budge and adventully, the last bit of strength left her after a particularly violent coughing fit. Honestly, why did she have to be sick now of all days, surely the universe could give the mad-insane-people less of an advantage.

With nothing left to do but conserve her air, Molly slumped down into the surprising nice padding. It was so soft that she was on the verge of falling asleep. But she valiantly fought of the urge and waited for something, anything to happen.

It was a bit boring actually.

The silence was what was mostly killing her. The eeiriness of it all and she tried to stop her fear from climbing by figuring out how she eneded up in this absurd situation. But nothing was coming to her, she had come home from work with a cold, one she still had by the coughing she was still doing.

She flopped down into bed face first, exhausted. And now she was in a coffin. Bored out of her mind, she figured these things we're more exciting when she read the adventures on John's blog. Typical that she'd be let down on her own story of demise.

Molly, tried and failed to stiffle the hysterical giggle fighting it's way out of her mouth.

The sound of a door opening quickly had that laugh getting stuck in her throat and a familiar baritone, the loveliest sound she had ever heard left her in silent tears. As she now only got how terrified she actually was in this wooden death trap.

"Problem, " a voice that had such a musical quality to it, floated to Molly's ears. "Someone is about to die, it will be, as I understand it, a tragedy. So many days unlived, so many words unsaid."

Molly stiffled a sob at those cruel and true words and tried to get herself under control. She would be useless if she couldn't even try to tell them who was inside the box.

"The lid Sherlock." Mycroft said and she wondered what The British Government was doing here in this twisted game. And she wondered what was written on the lid of her own coffin, morbid curiosity, something she definitely had in spades kept her mouth shut.

"It's somebody who loves Sherlock, so who loves you? I'm assuming it's not a long list."

Even if she wasn't a genius like the two men outside, she knew in her bones what was sketched onto her box, it was so obvious it might as well be stamped on her forehead.

I LOVE YOU

The humiliation and pain that flooded her system was absolute and unkind. Wasn't it enough that she was trapped like a rat she had to be open and flayed as well?

Who could be so cruel.

"Molly, Molly can you hear me?" The deep voice she had always been in love with had a gentleness she had only heard three times directed towards her, over their long history.

And it didn't matter in the least, she was hurt, she was in pain and she knew that this was just the beginning of her ordeal. So in the complete blackness of her surroundings, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for it to be over.

"Oh dear. It seems that she's shy. Sherlock. Sherlock! She's not going anywhere, no need to glare at me like that. You do have a chance to save the damsel. But you only have three minutes in which to do so. She's rapidly losing air, and if that's not enough incentive, then the gas that's slowly filling her coffin, that only needs a spark to ignite, might be. A phrase word must be said in order to release Dear Miss Hooper. Go on then brother, deduce it." Brother? Among the hopleness she was feeling she was a bit (a lot) confused.

Sherlock had a sister, that was threatening him? His family is mad, clearly.

"Molly can you hear us, are you alright?" John, of course he was there.

And using the bit of strength she was saving she awnsered. "I'm here John, I'm okay."

"Good girl, we'll get you out yeah?"

Yeah of course they would. Of course he would, of the many things that she was sure of, even after this horrible day, she believed in Sherlock Holmes.

What she was dreading was what the world would look like once she escaped this.

"Molly I need you to say something for me. I know it will be hard, but you have to say them." Sherlock said and she heard the slight bump on the lid where more than likely his hand was resting.

She knew exactly what he was going to say, and she rushed to say his name anything to stop this "Sherlock" her voice cracked and her heart bleed.

"Say I love you." he demanded like demon asking for her soul, and maybe in this moment he was, "Say it Molly, so we can get you out of there. So you can be safe."

"I-I don't-"

"You will die Molly!" He cut her stuttering off with his own violent voice, sounding a touch more desperate and she wanted to, oh how she wanted to say the words but not like this. Not with it being forced out of her. She had kept it close to her all these years, knowing that she had him in her life in the way that not most people got a chance to be. She was his friend. She refused to burden him with something he never wanted or asked for. To have him was enough.

And if she said those words everything would be different, would be worse, they would never be able to go back. And even the threat of death couldn't make her say the words that would drive him out of her life forever. That would be a kind of death anyway.

"Sherlock don't make me do this, don't- Find another way." she pleaded once more only he was more worked up than she was, by the sound of a growl that left his throat.

"There is no other way. They're just words Molly, compared to your life what do that matter, they're just simple, foolish words."

"They're not foolish, Sherlock, they're true!" She gasped out a sob as the words were torn from her at his simple reasoning, she beat the lid in frustration as she heard the tick-tock of the timer.

"They've always been true, always." She felt faint and she didn't know if it was this conversation or the air that was becoming less and less by tell tale sign of her rapidly rising chest, trying in vein to get the oxygen she very much needed.

His voice when it came next sounded cold and monotone, a few words to her blatant confession, that left her already bleeding heart torn to shreds. "If they're true then just say it anyway."

The bitter laugh escaped her, she was tired and sick, just sick of this. These emotions. No wondered he avoided them. It hurt too damn much loving this man.

"Fine, fine you bastard-I-" she dragged in air but it only left her dizzy and Molly knew she was suffocating.

Well if these were the last words she could muster out at least he would know, she supposed.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes." She whispered and waited for this scary new world she found herself in, waited for the lid to be removed and for her to face him and the growing distance that would replace the trust they used to share.

But there was nothing. No opening, no light to see.

"You're not playing fair sis, she said the words. Now, Get. Her.Out."

A slam that sounded like a gunshot shook the coffin and Molly opened her eyes, when they closed we're beyond her. All she knew was that she was most likely dying. At least she was already in the coffin, that should make things easier.

Loss of oxygen leads to more of her morbid humor, good to know.

"Oh Sherlock," the woman's voice was gentle and soft and Molly kind of despised her for it, " who ever said that she was the one who needed to say it?" There was a stunned silence at her words.

"Best hurry now, Sleeping beauty only has thirty seconds left and I'm afraid even a kiss from her Prince won't be able to wake her up then."

A beat past then a voice floated to her so gently and filled with awe."I-love you. I love you Molly."

The words she always wanted to hear real or fake would be the last ones she would ever hear. And Molly smiled as she succumbed to the darkness.

She woke with a lot less grace then she would have preferred, shooting up right so fast that she had to lay back down immediately or throw up the contents of her stomach.

What? Where was she?

Hospital. Okay.

But why?

Oh, that.

She graoned and tried to muffle the sound with a pillow.

She really, really hoped that was all a dream. The coffin, the almost dying, but especially her forced confession and more importantly Sherlock's devestaing lie.

But as she heard a voice, a loud, berating the doctors, achingly familiar voice. She knew it wasn't a fever induced dream, but her new cold, harsh, hateful reality.

And when Sherlock swept into the room like a dark angel, hair in disarray, lips staright in a determined scowl, he walked up to her like a man ready to conquer the war. To win a fight. Her heart that never knew when to quit, stopped and galloped as he thumped down the tiles making a bee line towards her. She sat up and braced for the impact of his words, the logic behind what he had done.

There was no talking, just his hands in her loose hair, his soft lips slanted over her own as he took possession of her very soul. He kissed with the passion that was always bubbling just below the surface of his very being. And Molly melted into him, the confusion she felt evaporating as he bit her lip and licked his way into her mouth. His hand tightening around her, unwilling it seemed to let her go.

She was perfectly alright with that.

The intensity slowed as he gentled the kiss, pulling away even as she made a moan of protest, he caressed her jaw with the tips of his fingers and kissed her throat. Leaning into her and sighing into her ear in a way that left her with goosebumps.

"You're here." Sherlock's voice rumbled.

"Yes?" She squeked only to call herself ten different kinds of a fool, his lips quirked into a smile.

"Where else would I be?" His whole body became stiff and unyeilding at the question but gradually losened when he pulled back from her, only to cup her face in his hands.

She could only stare in fasination, as his normal indifferent kaleidoscope eyes, shone with the kind of emotion of a raging sea.

"Not on this mortal plain, I thought you were dead. I was led to believe that until the very end. I've spent the last few hours trying to track you down, and obviously my sister would send you to Bart's. Sometimes I don't see what's right in front of me." Molly had the strangest feeling he wasn't talking about the hospital.

"So that really was your sister then, she seems-" she stopped herself. What was the nice way of saying completely bat shit crazy?

"Insane. Hmmm. Yes she is. A genius certainly but not exactly a people person and coming from me that is saying a lot. But can't exactly blame her, she did lack an opportunity as she was in prison for most of her years." Sherlock drawled out stroking her cheek.

This was such a confusing day.

It only got less of one when he began to tell her the whole insane story. Or normal really, since his life had never been average.

"Okay," she finally sputterd out, "I get most of that, but why me? I mean surely she could have chosen somebody else."

"Molly," he sounded exasperated, and a touch fond of her. Her! Molly Hooper put that sort of affection in his eyes.

"I did just kiss you if you remember and I said some words that until very recently haven't left my lips for any other woman but you. You must be able to see why it had to be you, why my sister chose you to eradicate any sort of logic I still held at the time. She wanted to see what I looked like when my rational mind failed, and she succeeded with threatening your very important life. I was filled with a kind of rage and pain, I'm ashamed to admit, that led me to lose sight of the obvious. That you weren't in fact dead. But very much, wonderfully alive."He kissed the tip of her nose and she could only stare at him, she was stunned in a sort of shock after those many words and his actions.

The anguish he held as he spoke disappeared as he looked at her, stared right through her, and reached her heart that was slowly beginning to heal with his words.

"You have to see Molly why it had to be you, why it's always had to be you. You've always seen me." Sherlock let forward to kiss her once again, this time softly, reverently, like she was made of glass.

And it was like the world was now oh so colourful, the grey completely wiped out, this new world not as cold as she had feared, there was so much warmth from him, from them.

"You meant it." She whispered the realisation against his lips, a wave of pure joy overwhelming her to tears as he nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed the truth as he kissed away her tears. "I'm sorry it took your almost death for me to realise the obvious. That I do indeed love you, Molly Hooper."

"Well," she said almost breathlessly, giddy with the fact that Sherlock Bloody Holmes, the love her life, loved her back, "No body is perfect, not even you."

"I think there might be one exception to the rule." The smirk she had always adored appeared on his face as he then continued to snog her breathless, the both of them ignoring the groan of John as he squeaked to a stop outside of the doorway.

After this she was going to thank Sherlock's sister profusely, even if the way it came out that Sherlock was in love with her,(oh lord she was never going to get used to that) would probably leave her with nightmares for awhile.

Or maybe she would just send a fruit basket or something.