#save the Flower after it's completed. Hang it on the wall. It speaks your truth!

[remembertheplunge]

The above is the "Flower" that I took my "45 years on the planet" Iist from which I included in my last blog.

To do a Flower, draw a circle in the middle of a blank page. Write an issue or a question you are grappling with in the center. Quickly draw a line and write what comes to mind. Repeat quickly around the circle. In this way you are shutting down your mental editor.

It's a great strategizing tool. I learned it from a friend in the early 80's and have been using it ever since.

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”  

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.  

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @sad-bitch-h0ur @scorpios-echos

If you want to be added to the taglist for future updates, go like the post I made earlier about it!

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of ​​not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of ​​running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

[xenia-cenia]

Bennett x Fem!Reader - Aster

A/N: The last post kinda blew up so of COURSE I’m doing more in this style. Also he’s totally the son of the pyro archon I don’t take criticism 

Fun fact: at the end I legit started to blush a little bit. 

Trigger/Content Warnings: Regicide/murder, violence, PTSD/nightmares, kidnapping, light swearing

Word Count: 3,560

Request: No

Summary: Everything that has been Lost will eventually be found; be it Princesses or swords. 

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

Very few places in Teyvat still bowed to royalty and Mondstadt was no different. 

The people of Mondstadt bowed to alcohol and freedom; the people of Liyue bowed to commerce and wealth.

But you did not hail from Mondstadt or Liyue - you were born into a country far away from Archons and Visions. A country that was set under siege 10 years ago, a country that lost its rulers with a swift slash of a sword.

Rumors spiraled of the young princess escaping with a woman who burned with embers in her eyes and infernos in her hands. Some say the women took the princess only to end the royal line herself, others say she raised the child as her own. As more and more time passed on, people agreed that the woman never existed and the princess died during the attacks.

“Bennett!” You shouted from the balcony overlooking the entryway of Mondstadt. The white-haired boy's head snapped up, a smile growing on his face. You jumped over the balcony and ran to him, “How was your adventure?”

“I found so much treasure!” He began sorting through his pockets and eventually brought out a small bag, he opened it and brought out a golden ring with a raven insignia pressed onto the blue jewel attached to it. He extended his hand and smiled shyly, you slowly set your right hand down on his extended hand. The ring slipped onto your finger perfectly.

“Woah,” you gaped at the ring, admiring the way the jewel seemed to absorb every bit of light, “Where did you find this?”

Bennett chuckled nervously, not wanting to tell you the truth of how many traps he fell into while receiving the ring, “J-just found it... y’know... lying around.” 

You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes, “Benny...”

He scratched the back of his head and mumbled under his breath, “I only almost died like... twice.”

“Bennett!” You yelled and lightly smacked his arm, “Don’t risk your life for this stuff! We’ve talked about this.” 

“But you looked so happy when you saw the ring...” 

“And I’m happier each time you come home to me! Promise you won’t do this anymore!”

“But...”

“Promise!”

“Fine! Fine. I promise I won’t risk my life for gifts anymore.” He sighed but couldn’t contain the soft blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you.” You grabbed his hand and squeezed them, “Really, thank you. I... just please don’t get hurt for me.”

He smiled brightly and kneeled slightly to match your height, “You’re the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me, (Y/N).”

You laughed and began to jog away, “Where did THAT come from? Barbatos save me, you’re so cute.” 

“Cute?!” Bennett half-laughed half-yelled in shock, “(Y/N)!” He started running after you, “(Y/N)! You can’t just say that and run away!”

“Come and catch me then!” You giggled as he chased after you. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to you, grab you by the waist, pick you up and spin you around. You laughed and looked at him, “How come I’m nearly as tall as you, yet you can still effortlessly pick me up?”

He smiled and nuzzled his chin into your hair, “I spend all day fighting hilichulrs and climbing mountains, did you think I couldn’t pick you up?”

“I guess I knew you could, I just didn’t think you would.” You spun out of his grasp and grabbed his hands, “Ooh, that reminds me! You have to hear about this story I just found!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s so cool! It’s about Vanessa...” as the two of you walked back to your small house, you regaled him with stories you had read that day, gushing over the vast history that Mondstadt had.

When you had finished talking, the moon had taken its rightful spot in the sky and called you and Bennett to sleep. You lied on the bed and waited to feel Bennett's warm body press against your chest, his heavy arms draped over your sides. Within moments of him getting into bed, he fell fast asleep. You smiled and buried your head under his chin, letting sleep overtake you.

Screams echoing in your ears, you bit your lip as tears fell down your cheeks. The dress you had treasured was torn and burnt, you could hear pounding footsteps outside your door, looking for your head to hang on a wall.

You didn’t know when this started, all you knew is that you needed to hide. You tried your best to block out the noise, but you could still hear their death thralls and see your parents extend their bloodied hands towards you. 

“Run.” They had whispered. And run you did.

You ran down the twisting corridors, you hid under your Father's desk and prayed to something - anything - that you would survive this and see your family again. But even as a 6-year-old, you knew that your chances of survival were slim to none.

Soft footsteps slowly made their way across the room, you felt heat begin to boil your skin. A woman kneeled down and set her blade on the ground.

“P... please don’t hurt me.” You shook.

She smiled; a warm and comforting smile, “Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?” 

You stared at her with wide eyes, your heart sinking into your stomach. This was the end. You were going to die here. Your family's legacy would crash and tumble, the last thing you’d see was this woman's bright green eyes and smile.

She outstretched her hand, “Come, Princess, I can save you.”

You woke up with a deep gasp, sweat and tears mixing on your face. You looked at Bennett who was still sound asleep, you slowly slid out of the bed and took deep breaths. 

How long was it since you’ve last this nightmare? What was it about sleeping next to Bennett that caused you to see the woman clearer? You shook the thoughts out of your head and decided to take a walk to clear your head.

Flower picking always seemed to calm you down. You crept outside your house and into the Mondstadt fields to reminisce in the familiar scents of flowers. You sat on the ground and quietly hummed to yourself, completely lost in thought, not noticing the figure watching you from a distance.

Slowly, he crept up to you until he grabbed your wrist. You jumped in shock and smiled nervously. “Hello?”

“What are you doing... out so late at night?”

“I... um, just picking flowers.” You used your left hand to gesture around, “It’s so pretty out, I just couldn’t sleep until I brought a few home for my boyfriend...”

“Oh?” The man kneeled down, “Boyfriend, eh? What’s he like?”

“He’s... well, he’s really unlucky.” You looked around to see if he had any allies with him - but even if he did you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight. You were more of a kind soul than a violent one. “He’s probably expecting me home any minute now, so I should really go...” you began to pull out of the man's grasp when he tightened his grip on your wrist.

“What a pretty ring.” He held your hand up to his eyes, “Not as pretty as you, of course.”

“T-Thank you?”

“Would you mind if we took a walk? I get a bit lonely walking through these fields all by myself.” He cheerily laughed.

“I... my b-boyfriend...”

He smiled brightly but his grip began to become painful, “I’m sure he won’t mind, will he? Oh, speaking of! I never got your name, how rude of me.”

“I really need to go.” You tried to pull out of his grasp again.

“Now, now. I know those eyes. Right, Princess?”

“Pri-” you began, but before you could finish your sentence he swung at your chin and you crumpled onto the ground.

“What a great find!” He chuckled to himself as he lifted your unconscious body over his shoulder, “The amount of money we’ll get for her...”

Bennett woke up the same way he does every day: with a sore neck and on the floor. He sighed and sat up, happy that he remembered to put pillows on the floor last night. He looked at the empty bed and smiled to himself, you were probably out picking flowers or meeting with some of your friends. It always made him happy that you had things to do while he was out adventuring, but it always made him happier when you stayed near the city.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you. You weren’t naive or sheltered just... not someone cut out for battle. He had tried countless times to teach you how to fight, even got his Dads involved, but you always seemed hopeless. 

Your stance was wrong, you’d drop the sword or you’d nearly poke someone's eye out. Eventually, you decided to just stay near. Stay safe. Fighting simply wasn’t your thing - and that’s fine! He’d be okay with it either way. 

He changed into his clothes, headed out of his house, and walked around Mondstadt. Katheryne smiled and waved hello, he walked over to her and asked about new commissions. She gave him 4 more and bid him good luck, before he set out he asked if she’d seen you today.

“(Y/N)?” She rocked back and forth on her heels, “No... I don’t think so.”

Bennett felt concern but quickly shook it away, “Tell me if you see her!” 

As he set out on his commissions, he found himself being distracted. Not seeing you when he woke up was normal enough, but Katheryne not seeing you? That was weird. He only even asked as a formality - Katheryne always saw you. She always chatted with you before you met up for midday tea. 

He palmed the hilt of his sword as he began walking to his second commission of the day, completely lost in thought and not noticing the small hole in the ground. One misstep was all it took for Bennett to trip and roll his ankle.

Bennett winced in pain and slowly brought himself out of the hole, “Just my luck, huh...” He reached into his backpack, pulled out medical supplies, and set to work on mending his wounds. On the ground, he spotted a few picked windwheel asters scattered around. He pulled himself over to them and smiled to himself, imagining the smile on your face when he brought your favorite Mondstadt specialty home to you. 

As he twirled the windwheel aster between his fingers, he recalled his earlier unease. With a quick shake of his head, he replaced it with happier thoughts. He pulled himself up, tucked the windwheel aster into his belt, and headed home.

The unlucky boy more stumbled than walked home, beating the pain with fantasies of your smile.

As he arrived back in Mondstadt, he walked over to Katheryne who perked up when she saw him.

“Bennett!” She called, “You’ve been gone a while. Did you complete your commissions?”

“Not really,” he laughed quietly, “ended up rolling my ankle.”

“Oooh,” her eyebrows knit together, “I think Barbara is still working tonight.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. I can just sleep it off.” He began to step away when he remembered something, he knocked onto the counter with his gloved hand and shot a big smile, “Oh, that reminds me. Have you seen (Y/N) at all?”

Katherynes concern fell into nervousness, “I... I was going to ask you that.”

“I gotta go.” He broke out into a sprint towards your house, the pain from his ankle seemed insignificant compared to his pounding heart. As if some lucky break, he didn’t trip or run into anyone on his way home. 

He threw the door open and yelled, “(Y/N)?!” No response. He searched each room in the house, tearing apart every spot that you could even possibly be hiding in before ran to the Knights of Favonius headquarters. He practically barreled through the door to the library and with heavy breaths looked a startled Lisa in the eyes.

“Bennett?” She took a second to regain her composure, “Oh, actually, have you seen (Y/N) lately? We just got a new book I think she’d-”

Before she could finish, Bennett left the library and ran into the Acting Grand Masters office.

“Master Jean!” He panted, his arms shaking as he held the edges of the doorframe.

Jean looked up at him, piles of paperwork covering her desk, “Can I help you?”

“Yes! Yes, you can!” He walked into the room, tripped over his feet, got up, and sat down in the chair, “You’ve heard of (Y/N), right?”

“(Y/N)...” she repeated, “Oh, yes. I have. She helps me out every now and then.”

“Have you seen her at all today?”

Jean leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her lips, “No, I can’t say I have. Why?”

Bennett groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t know where she is! I woke up today and she was gone, which, yeah, is pretty normal for her but still! Not you, Katheryne, or Lisa have seen her! I’m really scared - she can’t fight and she keeps going out to pick flowers really far away! Please, please help me find her.”

She folded her hands, “What’s your name?”

“B-Bennett!”

“Bennett. Take Lisa with you and look around Mondstadt. If you still can’t find her, come back to me and we’ll discuss this again. Understood?”

“I’ve looked around Mondstadt!”

“Okay,” she exhaled, “I’ll organize a search party.” Jean stood, grabbed her vision, and walked with purpose.

Bennett sat in the chair, shaking. “(Y/N)... where are you...”

You woke up with a pounding headache and with something wet pressed against the side of your face. There was a tight rope binding your hands behind your back and chains connecting your feet to a small metal cage you were trapped in. You sat up and took deep breaths, trying to recall what happened.

“1 million mora? For a princess? We can do better than that.” A voice sneered.

“How do we know she’s really the princess?”

“Wait until you see her eyes! The Lost (L/N) Princess and she fell right into our hands! Hah! How lucky!”

You looked around your surroundings, other than the cage you were in, it seemed like a normal campsite. You didn’t quite recognize the area you were in and that worried you.

“H... hey!” You called out. The two voices fell quiet and eventually, two men came into your view.

“You’re awake.” A young man with orange eyes and dusty brown hair spoke, a purple face mask concealing his mouth and nose.

You narrowed your eyes at him, recognizing him as the man who took you hostage, “Where am I?”

The second man who had a hat covering his face kneeled in front of you, happiness beaming in his light blue eyes, “Well, I’ll be damned. It really is her.” 

He grabbed the chains on your feet and pulled you towards him, “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

“Let me go.” You growled, “I swear to god when Benny finds you-”

“Benny?” The man wearing the hat turned towards the masked man, “Whose Benny?”

“Her boyfriend, probably.” 

“Hmm...” he leaned back and thought for a moment, “Well, you know what they say about loose ends...”

“W...wait.” Panic began to tear through your body, “Wait, please don’t. Oh, god, no. Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you ask just... please.”

“Anything?” 

“Anything.”

“Well, stay put.” He opened the door on the cage and motioned for you to open your mouth, you complied. He ripped a piece of cloth off your clothes and tied it around your mouth, “Can’t have you screaming for help now, can we?” He chuckled and shut the cage again.

“What do we do now?” The masked man stood, anxiously bouncing on his heels.

“Find the boy.”

“And?”

“Well,” the man sat in front of your cage, pulling down his mask and showing you a bright grin, “See how much he wants his beloved back.”

You glared at him with tears in your eyes, trying to push the gag out of your mouth but to no avail. 

Bennett sat on your bed, trying to keep himself from crying. 3 days. 3 days you’ve been missing. He wrapped himself in your clothes, taking deep breaths and trying to smell you on whatever remnant he had left.

The smell was fading.

He choked back tears and focused on you. Your smile, your voice, your favorite story, anything. Anything at all.

A loud knock at his door made him jump. Excitement and nervousness built into his feet as he ran to the door, maybe the Knights found you, maybe it was you. He threw the door open and saw a small slip of paper on the ground. With shaking hands, he picked it up, and when he finished reading its contents he couldn’t stop himself from crying or collapsing onto the ground.

Benny -

You probably want to know where (Y/N) is. She’s safe. For now, at least.

You have 24 hours to either get 30 million mora or something of equal value to 

get her back safely. If you miss the deadline, we will sell her to the highest bidder. Deliver the money to the great tree in Windrise.

Come alone.

Proof that we have her is attached.

On the other side was a lock of your hair. He clutched it to his chest before carefully tucking it into his satchel, and just like that he took off searching for each mora or item in your house that could even possibly have value. 

He would have sold the clothes off his back if it meant he’d see you again. But in the end, he fell short. 

Not even 1 million mora.

He walked to the great tree, hoping he could strike some sort of deal. With his sword at his hip, he knew what he had to do.

The unlucky boy shook as he set the sword against the tree, his eyes filled with tears as a single man came from the shadows.

“You didn’t bring anything?” He scoffed, “She really loves you more than you love her.”

“She... she’s alive? Thank... thank the Archons.” His head drooped in relief, “M-my sword. It’s worth at least 30 million mora. Take it.” 

The man stepped forward and inspected the sword, “Hm.” He practiced a few slashes with it, “Yes, this seems like it’ll catch a fair price.” 

“Where is she?” He pulled himself to his feet, “I gave you what you wanted... where is she?”

He laughed under his mask, “Long gone. As we speak, she’s being pawned off.” 

“Wh... what?” Bennett stepped forward, “I did what you asked.”

“Yes, you did. A 30 million mora sword and whatever she sells for... now my buddies and I will have the life we’ve always wanted.” 

“That’s not fair.” He began to feel his blood boil under his skin, “You... you can’t do that.” 

Bennett saw red, and the next thing he knew his sword was back in his hands and he was marching directly to you.

Wrath and fear forced his body on and it only increased tenfold as he saw a group of people standing around a cage, one of the men counting mora as he loudly spoke about your name to the onlookers.

Fire roared inside of him, their arrows and swords burned the moment he got near. Everything was burned to ash, except for you. He turned to the cage and felt his chest constrict as he saw tears pooling down your face and a gag keeping you silent.

He dropped his sword and ran over to the cage, it didn’t take him long to open the lock and remove the gag.

“Benny!” You gasped when you could speak, “Oh, god, Benny, I was so scared. T-They... they said they were going to kill you.” 

“I’m here, it’s okay.” He broke the chains off your feet and untied the rope around your hands, “Can you walk?”

“I... I think?” He helped you out of the cage, but you immediately stumbled when you touched the ground. He wrapped his arms around your waist and caught you.

“I’ll carry you. Are you tired?” He sat you on the ground for a moment as he sheathed his sword, before picking you up bridal style and making sure to tighten his hands around so he wouldn’t drop you.

“A... a little.”

“I bet,” he beamed, “Bennys Adventure Team is here to help you!”

Your laughter dissolved into coughing.

Bennett frowned and held you close, “When we get home, I’ll read you a story.”

“About Vanessa?”

“About anything you want.”

You leaned into his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck, “As long as it’s you... I don’t care what it is.”

He was going to respond, but he noticed your eyes fall shut. He leaned down to make sure you were still breathing, smiled to himself, and began the long trek home.

Whenever you wanted to pick flowers or do anything outside of the city, he’d always offer to come with you. He doesn’t want you to go missing again. At night, he draws you close against his chest as he sleeps.  

[sunsinrinn]

Do you love her?

Bakugo X reader, Bakugo x Setsuna

Angst, mild language

Word count: 1,857

Idea: Reader ask Bakugo “Do you like/love her?” Three different times. (idea loosely based from song Do you love her by Jessie Reyez)

First fic ever so like i dunno what i am doing. Also I felt like he fit in for this idea (him or hawks) 😣hopefully ppl enjoy it

You watch as he is carefree around her, laughing so carelessly as you sit alone eating lunch. You begin to feel insecure as you notice he isn’t like that with you, considering you and him are together. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re alone, already eating. But after a while he turns around and as he sees you his smile falters for a millisecond. You notice the falter and frown slightly before plastering a smile as he looks at you, he scoffs and walks towards your table and sits in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

You look at him analyzing his behavior and how it changed so quickly from carefree to annoyed.

“Well?! Aren’t you going to answer me??”

“Do you like her?” You blurt out and regret it as soon as he scowls.

“Are you fucking serious? I am stuck with you for fucks sakes! Tch,” He looks pissed, causing you to feel bad for insinuating him liking someone else.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I asked that I trust you completely” you say quietly, finishing up your meal. You get up and walk back to the classroom. As your classmates finish up their meals they begin flowing back into the class room and you notice Bakugo is a couple of minutes late. He looks at you and quickly looks away when he enters. You don’t think much because you have become used to him being cold.

As a couple of days go by from the day you asked him that question you notice he gives you more attention and isn’t quite as rude, almost becoming the guy he was when you first started dating. You didn’t think much of it other than being happy he is acting “normal” again. You begin to notice he is jittery and cautious near lunch time. With that you begin noticing how he only acts like that whenever Setsuna is near. It breaks you ever so slightly and makes you want to know why he is acting like that.

What you don’t know is that when you left that day Setsuna walks over to Bakugo and he becomes carefree again, so much to the point where he found himself alone with her outside making out. He feels on cloud nine but it diminishes when he remembers he is still with you. He breaks the kiss and sprints back to class. As he walks in class and spots you he begins to feel guilty and looks away. After that day he continued to feel guilty and he thought that being nice to you would remove the guilt.

After a week from noticing his strange behavior you cannot take it anymore and walk to his dorm. As you knock on the door and ask him about it, Denki walks by and says “Hey, just the gal I am looking for! Do you want to make some cookies with me?” You are about to say you couldn’t right now but him almost sensing a no from you makes puppy eyes and with that you give in.

“Sure, what kind do you wanna make?”

He contemplates and after a while says, “I dunno I actually didn’t think this far ahead also I don’t know how to bake but what about those round ones with the brown spots in them,” You look at him trying and failing to hold back a laughter, “Denki,,,, Do you mean Chocolate Chip cookies?”

“Yeah those ones!” He looks sheepishly at you.

“Alright come on.”

*in the kitchen area*

“How the heck did you get covered in flower, Denki?” You look at him as the flour cloud disappears.

“I- I don’t know one minute I was measuring the flour then next minute it somehow ends up everywhere”

*30 minutes later*

“Whew, I’m so proud of these cookies”

“Yeah apart from the flour situation these seem to turn out good.”

You both look down towards to cookies and each other and laugh softly. The class begins to come down to see where the smell of cookies is coming from and see both of you standing there proud of your cookies. As you offer everyone cookies you notice this was the most pure and fun activity you have done with someone, making you remember of Bakugo’s suspicious behavior. You excuse yourself as you make your way up to his room. You look towards his door and hold your breath as you knock.

“Who is it?” He yells out angrily.

“Its me.” You say loud enough for him to hear. As he opens the door he looks annoyed but lets you in. You walk in and stand there for a minute contemplating if you were overthinking his behavior but get startled by his voice.

“What do you want?” He says in an annoyed voice.

You feel discouraged but quietly say “Why are you acting weird...”

Silence feels the room but he finally speaks up, “What the hell are you going on about?”

“I’m talking about how you for some weird reason are acting kind, but you are also acting jitterish and cautious. Especially whenever Setsuna is around.”

He did not think you would catch on the him acting differently so instead of telling the truth he becomes defensive, “What the hell do you mean I’m acting kind? You’re my girlfriend I’m suppose to be nice to you! I am not acting weird, its just your insecure ass who wants to assume I’m cheating on you! I’m stuck with you aren’t I why would I cheat! Me and Setsuna are friends. I don’t have to just hang out with your clingy ass everyday just because we date” At his outburst you feel you’re heart break even more. “I just want to know one more thing,” He looks at you even more annoyed, “What now?”

“Do you like her?”

He hesitates before answering cautiously

“...No.”

As he looks into you’re eyes he sees that they were filled with an immense sadness. He regrets not answering quickly, He regrets that he doesn’t love you as much anymore he regrets even falling for Setsuna.

You look at him and say “If you don’t why did you hesitate? Why do you keep hiding things from me?! I really cant right now, I feel like we need to take a break.” By the end of that sentence your voice breaks slightly and Bakugo notices. He notices you restraining yourself from crying, from showing any type of weakness, something he’s only seen you do with someone you could no longer trust, he sees you building walls around your emotions again like the ones he knocked down when he first met you. Except this time the walls were being put up because of him. After a while of trying not to show any emotion he says,

“Fine, do whatever the hell you want. Its not like I need you anyways.”

You look at him and finally after a long time you leave as a single tear falls.

After you left Bakugo punches his wall while screaming so loud its a surprise no one heard him. You walk to your room and fall to your bed crying. The hesitation he did before answering was all the evidence you needed to know he loves her now.

Downstairs, Denki notices you aren’t around so he saves the last cookie for you. He walks up to your room and knocks lightly. You hear the knock and softly ask “Who is it?”

“It’s me Denki”

“Come in” You quickly wipe your tears and sit up. He walks in and notices your red eyes and begins to worry, “What happened? Why are you crying?”

You look at him as he worries you hesitantly say, “Bakugo and I are taking a break from each other...” He looks at you with a soft look and after a while he says, “Oh y/n, I’m sorry... Whenever you want to tell me why I will be here but I wont pressure you to tell me. Brought you a cookie so you feel better. If you want we can also watch some Netflix to forget for a while?” You sniff softly, “Thank you so much Denki. You’re a great friend.” Denki whispers “Yeah friends”

You scoot over so he can sit and begin to binge watch movies.

As days go by Bakugo thinks over on how he fucked up. He thought of different ways to make it up to you but always became distracted by Setsuna. He was infatuated by her and couldn’t stop thinking of her. He got to the point where he completely stop thinking of ways to get you back. He was so preoccupied with Setsuna he just decided to confront you no plans no ideas.

You begin to feel better, especially with Denki cheering you up. Even others tried helping, that girls made a girls night one night, Iida would just give you facts and ideas on how to act professionally during a break up making you giggle, Kirishima and Izuku would make small jokes here in there but izuku would always stutter slightly because he still getting used to talking to girls, heck even Shoto tried cheering you up by attempting to make you a small cat ice sculpture using his power but kinda failed making it look wonky. You stopped thinking of your break up and bakugo in general. You did notice every once in a while that he was usually with Setsuna.

After a couple of weeks of bliss, you hear a knock. You open the door thinking its Denki and see Bakugo standing there your smile drops and turns into a scowl. As you begin to shut the door he sticks his foot in causing the door to not close. You sigh and open it up again.

“What do you want Bakugo?”

“I came here to talk and get you back.”

You look at him in disbelief, “I thought you didn’t need me anyways?”

He looks startled at your words but answers, “I didn’t mean that y/n. I am sorry for the pain I caused you! I cant bear to live knowing I hurt you.”

“So you just want me to forgive you so you don’t feel guilty?” You ask disinterested in what he said. “No I really am sorry I was just caught up with Setsuna that I didn’t realize you’re the one for me.”

“Really? Weren’t you just yesterday hugging and holding hands with her?”

“I- that doesn’t mean anything to me! Only you! I only care for you” He says insistingly trying to convince not you but himself. He continues to ramble on about how much he wants you that he doesn’t here you when you speak, “I only have one thing I want to ask you and I hope you answer honestly this time.”

“Do you love her?”

“-want— YES-“ He cuts himself off and widens his eyes when he realizes his mistake. This was not how he planned his confrontation to go. You look at him with sorrow in your eyes and shed some tears.

“I knew it.” Was all you could say.

here is Part 1- Part 2 - Part 3

A/N- so um I think(?) I did a good job. Also maybe a part two, I dont know this is my first fic so i dunno.

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 4 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: A time line of Lee’s life after a certain event. Chock full of hardships, odd music choices, and the FBI watchlist. Overall an incredibly important chapter.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, cursing, frank iero

NOTES: Fuck. Its been a while hasnt it? schools a bitch. anyways i thought this was the best way to move the story along. Besides the early days werent really important. well it was, but it was th lead up. Still I think this is pretty damn good. Took me for fuckin ever. I hope you enjoy! 

I think I could’ve saved myself from more heartbreak if I just stopped fucking the man that was slowly breaking me, sparing me from the years of emptiness I just floated through. We could’ve only been friends and ended it at that, but I fell in love with him.

 It took me a year to realize id made the biggest mistake of my life. He was my mistake. I saw all this like I did relish every moment we had together, like every time he kissed me, I felt my chest grow warm. I never had a bad moment with him. When we fucked it was just me and him, which is so incredibly cheesy, but when you’re that intoxicated by the touch of another, its all you can think about. Nothing else existed. Bad breakups, a growing rift in old friends, the unpaid bills sitting on your counter. The truth. It genuinely was witchcraft on his end. I think the songs he wrote when we were together were actually just love spells. 

This went on for a year. I waited for him and meg when they went to the meeting that landed them their first studio album. Hell, I even taught him slide and played on their track “Suzy Lee.” Looking back at that moment always makes me laugh, the irony of it all, how I shielded myself from any truths. I think I realized I loved him when I opened my apartment door to see him with freshly cut hair. The sides shaved, the red just as wild as always but dyed a firetruck red. To this day, its the worst haircut I’ve ever seen someone get, and that day I died with laughter. He was always so confident in his looks, but that day he was in a panic. I had to console him and try to convince him it wasn’t that bad. 

“Rosie, it looks like someone glued fake fur to the top of my head.” 

The both of us sat cross-legged across from each other on the bed, trying to assess the damage. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Fixing any loose hairs, which was the entirety of his hair. I scooted forward and played with it, trying to find any feasible angles.

“Jacky, it’s not that bad, it looks quite handsome from this angle.” I pretended to style it. There was no fixing it, but I could boost his ego to last until it grew back. 

He grabbed the hand mirror sitting next to him and tried every angle. Worry had found its way into 

every part of his face. 

“Mmm well, I guess it’s not as bad as I thought,” He couldn’t stop touching it. “Thanks, Rosie.” He smiled at me the same way he always did, lips pulled tight, making his face scrunch up with those warm eyes. 

I still looked at him and saw the most handsome man, even with that ridiculous haircut.

It never took much to convince him of something or to do something for that matter. If you put any liquid in his hand he’d drink it, I think I watched him drink hand sanitizer on a dare made by Ben. I never convinced him to go on a date with me, though. We always spent our time alone together, holed up in my room. Though back then, I always considered our late-night solo show adventures a good filler. He never noticed how happy they made me. That should’ve been a red flag, but they always just look like flags in rose-colored glasses. I seemed to be an expert at collecting red flags. I convinced myself for years that my time with my ex back in Nashville was normal.

Harriet pulled my head out of ass, though, and brought me here. To more red flags. It’s funny how completely opposite the two of them are. Jack and John (John and John if you want to get technical). John, at first, took me everywhere. He knew everyone and could get in anywhere. He showed me off and always made it clear who he was with. Once he had me fully wrapped around his finger, and we were living together, it switched. I wasn’t allowed to go out, not without his permission. I couldn’t talk to anyone except my bandmates, that was limited too. He held my playing shows above my head. If I was “good,” I could play under his supervision. I mean, he managed our band, he always knew our every move. It’s easy to misconstrue love, confuse what possession is. I was his pet, his thing to show off and shove in a closet until he needed me again. It took years to notice that it wasn’t okay.

 The beginning is always just so intoxicating.  

Jack just had this air to him, that same confidence as john. He knew he was talented and certainly knew he was good looking. The difference is Jack is humble. He could barely take a complaint from me, and as he grew, he didn’t know how to handle the attention. He didn’t lavish in it as John had, as short-lived as his attention was. Jack and I hid away, our confessions of our true feelings hiding on lyric sheets feet away from the other. That made my want stronger, I never felt I could have him, but we were so close it almost felt like I could have him. Its that moment, though, when you stare at each other with such love and warmth, faces growing so close you could feel their body heat. Your so close you can almost taste it, and that’s the moment he leaves. We didn’t cuddle. We weren’t affectionate. It was his choice. He left after tender moments, he left before breakfast, and he left before we finished the last verse of our song. We never were anything, and we never got anywhere. Me being me, it never was a thought in my mind. My judgment was clouded every time he looked at me with those eyes that pulled me in the first time. 

While we grew closer, nothing ever changed, he came over, we fucked, and then wrote together. Sharing the same Camel pack every time. I never thought he shared my feelings for him. He never showed it. He was as open as he was closed. He only let you see what he wanted. That was until me, and the girls were all hanging around during a White Stripes practice. Which was quite common. We all watched each other play, testers for anything new that we cooked up. Meg was weirdly good at knowing what riffs people would like. She always was smarter than any of us would ever be. 

That day Jack introduced a new song. It wasn’t entirely new to me. I taught him the parts, I always played the solos. He never quite got it back then. I was overjoyed to finally hear it. None of the girls were too focused on them. They always got stupid high. Jack and Meg’s landlord didn’t quite care if they smoked, not that ever did, though. It was a slower song, and a lot of work was put into it. Knowing him, the lyrics always had just as much care. 

He refused to meet my eyes. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes quickly flipping between the wall behind me and his guitar. It was very, obviously intentional. He was a storyteller, he always did it so carefully in songs, hiding the message. This seemed incredibly open. Too obvious. He was hesitant. It wasn’t until the “Chorus” (it could barely be called a chorus) that he started to get a bit more confident. It was apparent he had a lot to say.

Miss Suzy lee

The one I'm speaking of

The question is

Is she the one I love?

Is she the one I love?

That made my ears perk up, my eyes locked onto the floor. Why was I afraid to look at him?

Maybe I was thinking about it too much. My hope tends to get the best of me. Still, this pit in my stomach was growing with each note he played. 

She sent me flowers

The name of an incredibly sappy song I showed him

With her tears burned inside

Again it was embarrassingly open

And you know what I'd do?

I would run and hide.

I would run and hide.

 Fuck. I think my imagination and reality were clashing. I might actually have finally snapped and lost it. 

And the paper

On it was my name

Okay, I definitely did hide the unofficial nickname I made for him. I didn't use it often. I called him “Tree” when I was annoyed with him.

With the question

Do you feel the same?

Do you feel the same?

I knew. I knew he didn’t notice my intentions that day, though he should’ve won an oscar for his acting. He pretended like he didn’t notice. 

I think I’m going to legitimately throw up on their ratty couch. I’m going to throw up, and it’s his fault. Jesus, I’m overreacting to a song that’s probably not about me. Fuck I need this to be over so I can breathe. Maybe look up from this thrifted carpet. 

Again his words make my head snap up. This time I met his eyes. 

To end this tale

The one I'm speaking of

I wish I had an answer, but I just don't know

Is this really love?

I left the room as fast as possible after he said love. I didn’t think I could stomach it. Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ, retribution may be in my future. 

Everything changed after that. I couldn’t look at him, I avoided him, the hope would kill me. It was killing me. I’ve always gotten too excited over people, too attached, and whenever this moment came, I spiraled. I had longed for his love for so long, and the idea of getting it overwhelmed me, being around him overwhelmed me. I avoided him, said I was busy every time he asked to hang out. I didn’t even bother to hide that I was making excuses. It took him a week to stop taking my bullshit. Jack was incredibly blunt. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. One night he knocked on our door, and someone other than me answered, and they sent him my way. I didn’t tell the girls my feelings. I was too afraid to say it out loud. I didn’t want to be in love again. I loathed it. I wanted to be the person who could be fuck buddies and be fine with it, but I fall too hard. Every fucking time. It’s inescapable. 

My dad always said I loved harder than others and should hold onto it, but it only hurt me. 

That night fucked everything up. He didn’t look at me. If he did, it wasn’t for long. For the first time, he looked cowardly. He stormed into my room. I could hear his very distinguishable and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded into my throat with every footstep. He didn’t knock. He always knocked. His hair had grown out, it lost its curl, but it hung in his face just as it always did. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t have his bubble of confidence. He was meek. He was small. I remember his hands flying to his pockets. He did that when he was nervous. 

As I said before, he doesn’t beat around the bush. I wish he did that day. Spared my heartbreak for a few minutes. 

“Lee, I can’t love you.”

Those fucking words. They rang through my mind for years. Every time I saw him in the news, saw his face in magazines in passing at grocery stores. It felt like id been ripped in half, I was speechless, I physically could not form words. That feeling happened every once in a while when I reminded. Overtime I numbed to it. 

`He was married. Can you believe that? I was the mistress and with my best friend’s husband. The moment he pulled his hand out to scratch his face, I saw it. The wedding band that was never there before. I think he wore to mess with me, one last laugh. He knew this would be the end of us ever seeing each other, working together. 

He said he kept it off during shows for the brother-sister act, and just took it off before seeing me. Jack was never a coward, but it took him a year to tell him he was married. I hung out with them daily, I watched their dog when they toured, and I never noticed once. He was fucking married. The real kicker is that the girls knew too and didn’t tell me earlier. They let me live on with my sins. I felt so dirty. He just kept talking that day. He didn’t stop. Nervously rambled on, and he never did that. He was quiet. He opened his mouth to say something that’ll either make you cry laughing or make your heart swell. He was whip-smart and knew when to speak. I just let him go until he ran out of steam, tears quietly slipping down my cheeks. Still, stone-faced. The moment he stopped, I just silently showed him out and softly shut the door behind him. 

That night, I about committed arson, okay I didn’t, but I sure wanted to. At first, I cried. And cried,… and cried. It was a mess. Soon that turned to me having a small existential crisis and dumping everything on the cashier at the liquor store who definitely knew the others, and was incredibly uncomfortable. We went there a lot. As soon as the alcohol had been bought, it was gone. I spent the night binge drinking and wrecking everything in my room. I ripped up my journals for songs, I set a small fire to my sketches of him, and I very furiously tried to wash the smell of him out of my sheets. I also punched a hole in my wall, which I kept a secret until the girls moved out. The next day I switched to Marlboros, the smell of camels gives me that same gut punch. It was his brand. 

I said some not great things to the girls. I blamed them for my downfall for not telling me. I made them my excuse. I shortly left the band. We had tried to do a show, but I was so drunk I couldn’t remember most of the songs. I was also told I was lost my pants at some point.

 I moved out of the house and lost all ties to them. I cut all ties to jack. I couldn’t go home, though. I burned too many bridges with my family and friends, a bad habit I seemed to have. I still played shows.

The good thing to come out of my rage and fall into substance abuse was my music. I went through some phases. I was playing my standard stuff for a while, just with a bit more... Anger? Then some months later, in ‘99, the stripe’s first album came out. Of course, I fucking bought it. I kept all their records. I couldn’t let go for some reason. I listened to it on repeat. I was so outraged that it was good. I heard myself in their songs, saw my name in the liner notes, I heard myself in his lyrics. I was obsessed; it was great. For two years, I fought and scratched to get some kind of record deal. I got a two-album deal. I toured nonstop, played with some damn good musicians, though I never was happy.   

I lived a life of driving and playing. Most of the time, I had no fucking clue what state I was in. In New Jersey around 2003, I’d made some friends and played with them for a bit, fucking around in their basement. I lived there for a bit. I couldn’t stomach Detroit. I stayed consistently drunk from that night in ‘98 until 2004 when I received a friend’s call, showing me where I was headed.

 We talked through it, and both decided to get sober. We both were sick. They sparked something musical in me, though. I started to get heavier, I played punk, I put my aggression entirely into my music. I produced my own stuff then, scraping what I could together. I made that record and went back to Detroit. As painful as it was, I couldn’t go back to Nashville, so I was stuck here. I mostly just fucked around, still living pretty much like a hermit, making music in my basement. When the Elephant came out, I couldn’t avoid hearing The White Stripes. They were an international success. I still collected all their records and listened to them extensively. As time went on, my existence in his lyrics disappeared. As for him, it did for me, I’d given up. It was dumb to be upset over it all these years later, still, thinking of him hurt so much. I was restless. I was bored. I wanted to be back out on the road again. 

 While I was usually blackout drunk every day, I still loved it. Playing something new somewhere new every day. That’s when my friend frank from my New Jersey days called me up in ‘07 to join his new band. I think he was just as fed up and restless as I was. We played “hardcore punk.” though that's debatable. We were sick of shit and needed to yell about it. It was my last hurrah with my inner turmoil. We finished the album and got onto the FBI watchlist for a political song. 

I looked down at my phone to see I was getting a call from “Party Dad.” I knew what this is about. 

“Did- did they show up at your door too?” 

“Frank, you know they did.”

“Dude was fucking on the FBI’s list!” He was just as excited as I was.

“Hell fucking yeah, we are! You know we were still playing the song.”

“Oh, you know it. We will find a way around what they said. Plus fuck the government, that’s the whole point.”

“Two 30 something-year-olds on the FBI watchlist for a fucking song. This day could not get better.”

See here for the song

And toured. We toured for a while. Our last tour date was actually on my birthday in ‘08. In Nashville, no less. I didn’t tell my family, and surely didn’t expect them to be there. I never saw them, but I did see a familiar face. A significantly grown-up Ben Blackwell front and center. It caught me by surprise, that’s for sure, I slipped up a note or two upon seeing him. Though when we met up after, I was surprised how cool I stayed. I hadn’t seen anyone from my past in the years since. Ben has always been the sweet kid. I could never be mad. After that, we always stayed in touch, and whenever one of us was in Detroit or Nashville, we always met up. We recorded a couple tracks too. He’s always been a hell of a drummer. 

The band didn’t live long because of the others projects, but I always worked with Frankie when he asked. I even played drums for most of his last album. I got a call while trying to make a drumline for one of the tracks. It was my mom. I hadn’t spoken to her in 14 years. The last time we talked, we’d gotten into the screaming match to end all screaming matches over my focus and direction in life. She didn’t want me to move, she didn’t want me to pursue music, and she didn’t want me to leave John. She always worried I’d die an old maid. I hadn’t dated since Jack, so I can see her concern now. 

She dropped the bomb that my dad was sick. Of course, he was sick of all people. He was the most important man in my life. I hated being away from him. I could never bear to see him, and it turns out I’ve been wasting my time with him. All the tour stops, and I hadn’t seen him once. Guilt filled me. I felt the weight of it all. I felt the same tearing feeling, the same gut punch. I told frank everything, and him being him, he sent me off as quickly as possible to be with my family. 

My mom didn’t mention the fight. She just hugged me and sent me to my dad’s room. She couldn’t look at me, though.

 The moment I entered the house, I could hear Willie Nelson, a Red-headed stranger. It was always his favorite. My dad never showed his pain. He wanted to show us strength. It was heartbreaking to see him now in this state. I pushed it down. We talked for hours, and I told him everything, good and bad. He was always understanding. He knew my mind and reasoning better than I do. 

When Ben invited me to a Third Man event, I hesitated. We see each other frequently now that I’m back in town for who knows how long. He always invites me shows and record release parties. I always declined, even though my feelings have changed, I still can’t see jack. 

This time though, he said jack wouldn’t be there, something about his kids. Which took me by surprise, yet didn’t surprise me at all. So I agreed. To  my dislike. I love ben, but the thought of being in Jack’s business nauseates me.

 I watched the show from behind in the control room. Even though id heard it a million times, Ben did not hesitate to talk me through the live recording process. I was half paying attention, aimlessly looking at the crowd.

 Then I heard that laugh, the same from all those years ago. 

My heart leapt, panic-filled. I about pushed Ben over trying to get his attention. The footsteps. The heavy thuds came down the polished hallway. I nearly tore ben apart, trying to ask him if there was a bathroom.

 I was waiting for my breath. There were two entrances. Both blocked. I could either join the band on stage or run straight into the man I’m trying so hard to avoid. Ben looked so frazzled, trying to calm me down. I felt a shiver run through me, and I suddenly stopped. I was frozen, looking at the hallway. 

The bustle stopped, the footsteps stopped, all the people around him stopped in confusion. I locked eyes with him the moment he entered the room. No one dared move. Ben looked terrified next to, and the men around jack were whispering to themselves, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then he spoke, almost like he didn’t believe I was in front of him.

“Rosie?”

[thoughts-n-paper]

When people speak of fairies, they often think of the wise fairy Godmother or the tiny passionate Tinkerbell, but let me tell you the truth, fairies can be as vicious as any wolf you might encounter in the woods. Take my mother, for example, I am about to fail a class and might not be able to graduate but here she is shouting at the principal, questioning his competency and making things worse. To be honest, I should have known this would happen. Ever since I was a toddler, my mother was ready to fight the Alaskan giants if she felt that they insulted me, although that seems a lot better than calling the man, an imbecile elf.

I had never been good at school, I was not born to do this. I cannot do magic, cannot fly. I do comparatively good at empathy, but that is probably due to my human side. All my teachers earlier were very understanding in cutting me some slack, but the new guy doesn't want to bend the rules and my mom just doesn't understand that.

As we entered the house from a tiresome argument with no conclusion, I watched my mom sink in her bed as she tried to push her tears back to space behind her eyes. On the side table there stood three photographs, one of her with her husband on her wedding day, one of her holding her baby and one of me and her on my first day of school. The one with her baby was the only one facing towards her pillow so that it is the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. I was never jealous of him, but I did feel that my mother's life would have been easier if she never interchanged us.

I wound up the music box, placed it beside her and tiptoed to my room as the lullabies of her ancestors brought her calm.

I often wondered what the other me would be doing right now, my brother from another mother and raised by my own. And just in case, miles away he wondered that too, I started keeping a journal where I would write everything that happened on the day. I would walk him through every road that I mapped, what conversations mother and I had and what kind of jokes she laughed at. Just in case if he ever plans to return, he would never have to feel out of place because he had me to guide him, and just in case if I ever went back, I think I would have the same.

A knock broke my nap. As I looked outside the tiny round window, I could make out the prettiest face I had ever seen. We were in the same class but it was incomprehensible that she would be standing outside my window. And then it hit me, I looked her in the eyes and said firmly, "You don't fool me."

"Not fair. I need to practice my deception spells." saying that, the figure in front of me transformed into my childhood friend, Jaadu. One of the rules of bending spells, if the target of the trick sees through the rouge, the trickster has to come clean.

"It was good. If not for my trust in my status as a loser, you would have convinced me."

"Ah! I should study the target more. Will keep that in mind. Are you coming?"

Jaadu and I always went to the edge of the forest in the evenings. With the sun coming down and night beginning to rise, you can watch the shadows of all the travellers passing by. Some of them would sit and have their meal or set up camp, completely unaware that we are hiding behind the tree mere steps away, watching them. But the most exciting moment is when you see someone go from one realm to another. Sometimes you can see their shadow change shape or colour or sometimes nothing changes, it is always a surprise how the inter-realm travel reacts.

Jaadu enjoys it because it is something he might never do, he was to be part of the administration, like the fairies of his family before him. This was his way to vicariously travel through these evening rituals.

For me, it was the time I had felt closest to my mother. Although her husband was a traveller, she only planned one journey in her life. The one to save her baby.

In a way I had already travelled from one realm to another, I was just unaware of the magnitude of it. I sometimes think of going back, maybe visit my birth parents, might even bring my mother's son back. She would be delighted beyond belief, and maybe then, she wouldn't regret taking him. But I would always push the thought back, too afraid of the unknown.

The next few weeks were spent retaking and retaking the test until I was cleared to graduate school. There are three categories of fairies, one that is naturally gifted in all arts, whether it is music, the science of medicinal plants or chants and jinxes, they are fluent in all. Then there is the average category, the ones that work hard and learn and the last are the week students, ones who work even harder. And then there is me, the human among magical beings. I am the only one around like me, earlier there used to be a lot of us but with the danger of exposure and the spiritual fabric between realms weakening, it is just me. Potions are easy and I am good with plants and animals but I can't cast spells, at least not the high-level ones. So, it took a lot of convincing the new principal to test me only on the spells that I can do, but I finally succeeded.

Later that night, my mother organized a celebration for me, every house within a mile was invited, distant relatives came too. Some families brought a dish of their choice, some helped clean up space and some brought with them the sweetest water of different streams. But with all the gifts and praises, come the whispers too, how I was not one of them, what an achievement the real son would have been. When I was younger, my mother would often cast a filtration spell on my ears so that I wouldn't hear what they said about me but as I grew older, the spell weakened. She never herself told me the story, would always insist that I was hers just born with different abilities or as I see it, no abilities.

From what I could gather, my mother was with the child when her husband died. The grief was too much for her and the baby and so he was born with defects. A shaman told her that the milk of a human could cure him and so she left him in the first crib she could find and took me from mine as her own.

"Oh my son, come sit with me." my great-grandmother called me."How are you feeling? You are a big fairy now?"

"I am not a fairy Gre-ma." I sighed as I sat beside her.

"Oh, it doesn't matter what elements bind you. Tell me, Elven, how, do you think, is your mother?"

"She seems fine. I think she is alright."

"She is strong, but separation and loneliness often mould us into something much fragile. She has lights of sorrow surrounding her, you must make her happy. Bring her joy before the black lights swallow her."

After the celebration ended, I kept thinking about the words my Gre-ma said to me. She was the most powerful empath in the town, nobody could dare take her words lightly, especially if she said something like that. This was serious, I had to do something to cure my mother.

The next day, when I and Jaadu were sitting in the woods, relaxing as the shadows disappeared around us, I told him what Gre-ma had asked me to do. "Getting a good position in the council would cure all the sorrows of my mother." Jaadu joked.

"I am afraid, that doesn't work for mine."

"I know! My point is, only you know what will make her happy."

I thought about it for a while and by the next morning, I had an idea of what to do. I made up an overnight camping trip with some friends from school, which in retrospect, how mother agreed or believed any of that is beyond me. I checked in my bag to confirm I had the fairy dust with me that Gre-ma had given me the other night, without it, I would not be able to cross over. The plan was simple, follow the map she used years earlier and just knock on the door. Jaadu came to see me off, he wanted to see how my shadow will react.

I, on the other hand, just felt a slight current run through me, and on the next step, everything changed.

It took me at least five minutes of coughing to get used to the air around me. The map was magical, which meant that it would alter according to the destination desired and the time and space which surrounded it. But there still was no magic that can help me introduce myself to my birth parents or tell me how I am supposed to walk when each step is followed by a loud noise and a beast flying past me in a blink of an eye. The first thing I noticed was humans were tall, back in woodland, I was the tallest there, here I barely come up to the shoulders of some of these giants. And they all had different feet, different colours, shapes and textures. And walking for a few feet made me understand why. After walking a small distance, my feet were coloured black, they were damp and a new pink coloured flower had found a way between my toes and was now stuck to my skin. But ignoring it all, I marched ahead.

A few yards away stood the blue gate I had dreaded all through the journey, a million thoughts ran through my mind with each step till I lifted my arm to knock.

I looked around the house as I waited for them to make sense of everything that I had just finished telling them. Surprisingly, it was not that different from my house. it was filled with photographs except for the giant black frame in the middle of the room, which stood empty. Lamps were hanging from the walls, but there was probably some human magic that made it not look like fire. There weren't as many windows, or plants, outside or inside. We all sat on cloud-like cushions with brown milk in front of me.

When I introduced myself, I showed them my infancy photograph which my mother had taken with her. Then I told them about fairies and woodlands. I told them about magic and music, potions and pirouette. And then I told them about my mother, my fairy mother.

"So, you are ours?"

I nodded.

"And, you were kidnapped?"

"Exchanged!" I nodded

."And you live among fairies?"

I nodded.

"And, our son was a fairy?"

I began to nod and then stopped midway, "was?"

"He died ten years ago. Road accident." said the human mother and started sobbing.

My father stood up and came towards me with open arms, "We want to believe you, but we can't, at least not without tests I hope that is alright with you."

"Oh, I can't stay. I just came to take my mother's son back to meet her. I really should go now."

"NO!" my human mother shouted and holding my shoulders requested me to stay.

"I suppose I could stay for another day."

"Wonderful!" the mother smiled and ran to the kitchen mumbling recipes to herself. "She is going to make his favourite food," Father said to me. His eyes followed me suspiciously as I sat back down in my spot.

"Hey Dorothy, Can you do me-." A stranger walked into the house and stopped mid-sentence to stare back at me. "Family member?" she said while pointing at me.

"How can you tell?" mother came out of the kitchen.

"Well, he looks so much like Steve."

"Doesn't he?"

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to run tests."

"What do you mean, Steve?"

"Yes, what do you mean, Steve?"

"Uhm, I am just saying..."

"Wait, but who is he?"

"Oh! It's a miracle from Jesus. My son has returned."

"Jesus! Dorothy, honey."

"Your son, the one whose funeral I helped organize."

"No, you see, he was exchanged, Uhm kidnapped."

"Jesus! Dorothy!"

"And now he is back, back at home."

Finally, silence fell. I looked up and all three were staring at me. "Hello," I said in a low voice. "I come from the woodlands. My mother who is a fairy..."

"Well, he is still processing his trauma." Father interrupted me. "Don't worry, we will have him checked shortly." Saying that he led me upstairs to a closed-door with the picture of a masked man on the door.

"This is your room. I will call you when food is prepared."

I had just turned back to stop him, he shut the door to my face. I tried to open it but it seemed locked from outside. I sat down on the small bed, trying to process whatever happened in the last few minutes. And then I remembered the word funeral being uttered. Their son's funeral.

My mother's son. The one I came to take back with me.

I had to get out immediately.

I stood in front of the door and chanted a simple admission spell. I tried to open the door again but it stayed locked. I tried the spell again, but it was all in vain. Casting spells in a new environment is always difficult, even for skilled casters. You have to be able to borrow magic from your surroundings. Often before any major spell, fairies perform cleansing and calming rituals to make the elements around them aware of their intentions, and once the fairies and every particle around them are in agreement can they cast the spells successfully. I did not know anything about those rituals, nor have I ever performed magic in an unaccustomed environment. Being human and bad at magic did not help either.

I sat back on the bed and waited for the door to open from outside. I looked around the room, there stood various balls of different colours all around the room, on a shelf placed in the corner, there were several miniatures beasts like the ones I encountered on my way. On the walls, there were drawings of different humans in various attires and figurines made of cotton and stone of different animals. I lied down and my eyes sparkled as on the roof I could see the sun and the moon and all the stars that the roof could fit, it was the only thing that reminded me of home. I could look at it for hours like I did back in the woodland, I smiled at the memories, glad that I could find at least one familiar thing.

A few hours later, the father came rushing in and closed the door behind him.

"Hey, buddy! There are a few people who want to meet with you. They are super nice and very friendly. They will ask you some questions. You don't have to worry, just nod when I answer those okay?" It was a question he did not wait for an answer to. I was held from my arms and pushed into the front room. There stood the two women from earlier, a man with an unusually shaped head and another woman with a toy in her hands. They all had their mouths in a curve and their teeth were exposed, I think they were trying to smile. The father sat me down and placed himself beside me.

The woman nodded and pushed the toy towards me.

"Hello, I hope you don't mind introducing yourself once again. Your father had already told me about you."

"Uh...my name is Elven."

"His name is Simon. He thinks his name is Elven and he was kidnapped by fairies. He is still recovering from the incident." The father interjected.

"Okay." The woman looked at the man and then back towards us. "Can you elaborate on the fairies that abducted you?"

I looked at the father he gestured me to go ahead. "I wasn't abducted, I was exchanged. My mother, my fairy mother gave birth to a weakling which could only be saved by human milk."

"We believe that the kidnapper left her disabled child with us in hopes to raise a healthier child, obviously for her benefit." The father looked towards the woman, and they both nodded. Like they agreed to not believe anything I said.

"Do you think drugs were involved?" The man asked the father.

"Well, listening to the absurdity, I am certain that the woman herself took drugs and gave my son some too. That seems to be the only explanation for his conviction."

They kept saying the word "Drugs", I didn't know what it meant, but I could conclude that it was bad. And if they think my mother gave them to me, they would never let me go back to her.

"Look," I stood up, "I should go, my mother would be worried."

"I think that should be enough for today, I will answer the rest of the questions." The father said as he directed the mother to take me.

"Oh, just a picture of the family would be great." The woman stopped me and the mother.

All three of us stood side by side as the man took out a small metal from his pocket and a light flashed towards us. I couldn't see for a while but I could feel being steered somewhere.

I was sitting on the tiny bed again, while my human mother was sobbing with her head in my lap. I looked up at the painted night sky and dreamed of the real one.

The next day I woke up to the sound of a crowd of humans in front of the house. A lot of them were holding the same toy as the day before, some had big boxes on their shoulders and behind them was a long queue of the white beasts. The father came in with a gentle smile and said, "Son, how are you? Breakfast is ready. And you remember yesterday, the people in the front have the same questions. Whenever you are ready, we will talk to them. Is that alright?"

I could simply nod. It was very clear that I did not have any choice in that.

The mother came in afterwards and asked me to take a bath, but when I asked for the stream nearby, she started crying again. The father came in and showed me to another room where twisting on a knob I could make it rain inside. He laid down a drying cloth, top and bottom covers and coverings for my feet. It was a strange feeling to not have my feet touch the earth. For fairies, it the only consistent relationship between them and the ground. Although it did feel better to not have my feet be dirty or cold. For breakfast the only thing that looked familiar was fruit, so I picked a red apple and bit into that, while the father and mother stood in front of the black frame, only this time it had a man talking in it.

"We have something like that in woodland too, motion paintings. It is a very complex spell though. My mother's uncle is famous as the most proficient in a 1000 step radius."

They both looked at me and the mother ran out of the room looking like she was about to burst into tears again.

"Hey, why don't we stop talking about woodland in front of mom." He gave me that non-smile again.

The whole day was just sitting in front of strangers and nod as the father told lies. And every time I tried to stop him or correct him, it was blamed on trauma, another word they kept on repeating. According to them, I had a trauma because of drugs and my mother was a criminal and she should be locked up. I did not most of the words in that sentence. They asked me to do magic to prove my story but when I failed, they simply smiled. When I first showed them my journal, they scanned through it within minutes and gave it back to the father. Mid-way through the day, I gave up. I might have been naïve in the human ways but I knew what a lost battle looked like.

They kept asking to take a picture, after a few I gathered they were just still drawings of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I would often catch someone pointing at me and chuckling with his or her friend. The mother spent most of the time crying and repeating that she was just glad to have her son back and she loved the other one too just like her own. In between taking pictures and answering questions, some would come up to me or the father and offer their condolences.

Everything resembled the kind of community I had left in woodland, but that was all it was, a resemblance, a mirror image. People offered help and sympathy but always from a distance. Some neighbours brought their children in hopes I could make friends with them but whenever I tried to talk to them, they pushed me out of the circle and talked amongst themselves, mostly in gibberish I might add.

I missed my mother, I missed Jaadu and Gre-ma. I missed the smell of freshly bloomed flowers in the morning and the lullabies of the moon as it sang us to sleep. Out here all I could smell was something burning, constantly. The food was like eating mould and every variant of the juice I was offered did not taste like its name. I wanted to see the real night sky and not the fake colours on the roof.

By midnight, the father and mother had fallen in deep sleep. And that was when I slipped out, fairies were of course famous for being light feet and my mother had taught me a few tricks early on. I decided to leave my journal with them, in case they ever wanted to visit. Although they would have another day of asking and answering and crying over my departure, I did not feel bad. I realized they were not my parents and this was not my world, my only link was my brother. He was supposed to be my guide, and without him, I had no purpose but to get lost.

I stood at the gates in the woods and waited for the sun to go up and night to fall. And when the moment came, as I stepped through the fairy dust, into the realm of my home, I could make out a figure that I was much too familiar with. And as I inhaled the blossoms, I could see Jaadu smiling at me. And I smiled back.

[ziathewitch]

Prâslea the Brave and the Golden Apples (Part 2)

[...]But the emperor, satisfied that he had touched the golden apples, did not want to know about the thieves. The son, though, was not convinced. He showed his father the trail of blood left behind by the thief and said he would look for him all over the world until he found him and and brought him to the emperor. And he spoke the very next day with his brothers and asked them to join him.

His brothers envied Prâslea because he had been more worthy than they had, and they sought an opportunity to get rid of him; that's why they were happy to join the quest. They prepared and set off.

So they followed the trail of blood and walked, and walked, until they came out into the wild emptiness. From there they walked a little more until they reached an abyss and the trail was lost. They searched around the chasm and they saw that the trail of blood was no longer advancing. It was then that they realized that the thieves must live in that abyss.

But how to get inside? They immediately got thick ropes, and the older brother was the first to go down.

"But," he said, "when I shake the rope, get me out."

And so it happened soon after. After the older brother, the middle one went down and he did the same as the first, only he dared go a little lower before shaking the rope.

"Now it's my turn to go into the abyss," said Prâslea, seeing that the older brothers were scared.

"When I shake the rope, lower me more, and after you see that the rope is not moving anymore, you stand guard. When you see that the rope moves again, that's when you pull it out."

And so, down went the youngest brother, and the more the rope moved, the more they lowered it, until they saw that the rope was no longer stretched, as it is when it has something hanging from its end. It was then that the brothers took counsel and said:

"Let us wait until we see if he succeeds, and wether or not he does, let us end him, to cleanse ourselves from one like him who brings shame upon us."

Prâslea reached the other realm, looked cautiously in all directions, and with great astonishment saw everything around him was different: the earth, the flowers, the trees. And all sorts of creatures were there. He was a little scared now, but, bracing himself, he walked along the road until he reached a palace that was completely and utterly made of brass. Seeing no human being to ask about this place, he entered the palace to see who lived there.

A beautiful girl greeted him at the door and said:

"Thank God I got to see another human in this land! How did you get here? These are the lands of three ogre brothers, who kidnapped us from our parents. We are three sisters and we are the daughters of an emperor from the human realm, where you come from."

He then briefly told her the story of the apples, how he wounded the thief and how he came after the trail of blood to the pit and so on, and he asked her what kind of beings those ogres were and if they were valiant. She then told him that each of the dragons had chosen one of the three sisters and they were being forced to take them as husbands. The girls keep resisting their sweet words, and they requested all sorts of difficult things as conditions for marriage, and the ogre brothers were doing the impossible to please them, fulfilling all their wishes.

"They are indeed strong", she added, "but with God's help you may be able to overcome them. But for now hide, I beg of you! Hide somewhere, don't let the him find you in his house, because he's dangerous and has the strenght of a lion. Now is the time when he comes home for lunch, and he has a habit of throwing his mace from a long distance. The mace knocks on the door, on the table, and hangs himself on the wall from that nail.

Before they could finish talking, there came a whistling sound, then a knocking on the door, then on the table, and the mace showed itself.

Prâslea took the mace and threw it back farther than the ogre had thrown it. And when it passed the ogre, the mace touched him on the shoulder.

The ogre, frightened, stood still and looked for the mace, went to pick it up, and walked home.

When he was at gate, he began to shout:

"Hmm... it smels of human flesh from the other realm!"

And seeing the young prince coming forward to face him, he added:

"What brings you here, human? Do you seek to leave your bones in this realm?"

"I came to catch the thieves who stole my father's golden apples."

"We are those thieves," said the ogre. "How should we fight? Do you prefer the mace, the sword, or should we wrestle?"

"Wrestling makes a fairer fight," replied Prâslea.

They began to fight, and they fought and fought, until the ogre shoved Prâslea in the ground up to the ankles. Prâsleâ then grabbed the ogre, and, throwing him, he shoved him in the groung up to his knees and cut off his head.

The girl, with tears in her eyes, thanked him for getting rid of the ogre, and begged him to have mercy on her sisters as well. After resting for a couple of days, he went to the middle sister, who lived in a silver palace. Here too he was received with joy. This girl also asked him to hide and he again refused. And again the mace came to hang itself on the wall, but this ogre had thrown it from a distsnce twice as large as his brother. Prâslea threw the mace a lot further back, hitting the the ogre on the head. And the ogre came home troubled, fought with Prâslea like his older brother had, and he also got himself killed.

The girl, after thanking him, askes him how to rescue her youngest sister as well.

"He is stronger than his brothers whom you have killed," said she, "but with God's help you might be able to best him, especially since he is still wounded from the blow you gave him with your arrow when he wanted to steal the apples."

Prâslea spent a week with the two girls, resting, then he set off for the third ogre.

Seeing the gold palace in which the youngest ogre lived, he pondered for a while, but then he gathered up his courage an went inside. When she saw him, the youngest princess begged him to save her from the ogre, especially since, according to her, he was tired of waiting and had decided to force her to be his wife as soon as he was well again. They had barely finished speaking, when the mace came knocking on the door and on the table, and hanging itself on the wall. Prâslea asked about the ogre's strenght and then threw the mace down for a distance three timea greater than before, hitting the ogre in the chest.

The ogre, mad with rage, immediately returned home.

"Who dared to cross my borders and enter my house?"

"I do!" said Prâslea.

"Then," the ogre replied, "I'll punish you bitterly for your recklessness. You came here willingly, but you will not leave."

"With God's help," said Prâslea, "I will defeat you too."

They agreed to go straight to battle and they fought and fought for a whole summer's day until eve. Around noon they both turned into flames as they continued fighting.

A raven keept flying around them, croaking. Seeing the raven, the ogre said:

"Raven, oh, raven! Bring me some tallow in your claws and in return I will give you this carrion!"

"Raven, oh, raven," said Prâslea, "give me the tallow and in return I will give you three carrions."

"If only such luck should fall upon me," said the raven, "I would gladly give up my home for it!"

"I speak nothing but the truth," said Prâslea.

The raven, not wasting any time, brought tallow in his claws and dropped it over the flame that was the brave Prâslea, who thus gained more power.

Towards evening, after both had returned to their true form, the ogre said to the emperor's daughter, who had been watching them fighting:

"My beauty, bring me some water to cool off, and I promise we'll be married tomorrow."

"My little beauty," said Prâslea, "bring me water, and I promise to take you to our realm, and marry you there!"

"May God hear you, strong one, and fulfill your thought!" she replied.

And so, the emperor's daughter gave Prâslea water to drink and he gained more power. He then grabbed the ogre, lifted him up in the air, and when he threw him, he shoved him up to his knees in the ground. The ogre grabbed Prâslea and, throwing him, he shoved him up to his waist. Gathering all his strength, Prâslea grabbed the ogre and squezed him so hard he broke his bones, then threw him so hard he shoved him in the ground up to its neck. Then he cut off his head.

The girls gathered around in joy, and and embraced Prâslea, and kissed him.

"From now on you shall be our brother," they said.

To be continued...

[windyfiend]

By nightfall, after the suns had drawn down and slipped beneath the streets, an unsteady stillness had settled on the city. The smoke had cleared, the red stains washed clean, a killer caged in the belly of the palace, but in the dark the whispers grew louder.

By midnight, the shadows screamed for the truth.

Alexis worked by the light of a moth that clung to the blank wall of their barrack room. They sat hunched at a desk with tweezers and a knife, slow and carefully precise, picking apart the insides of a dissected bomb recovered from the stash in the sewer.

With a delicate touch, they drew out a tiny vial of blue shining liquid and held it to the light of the lantern-moth’s wing--

  *RRRRRING!*

They jerked and saved the falling vial with a catch. The rotary telephone blared twice more before they picked up the receiver with a hesitant hand. “...Hello?”

[Hey, it’s Pallas, are you asleep? Listen, a couple of kids are missing. There’s a woman here at the station who says her granddaughter hasn’t been home since the vigil, and nobody can find her best friend either. Could be runaways, but after what happened today--]

“What are their names?” Alexis interjected. They clutched the receiver until it shook.

[Briony,] said Pallas. [And Runa.]

Alexis closed their eyes. “Runa isn’t missing,” they said. “I know where she is.”

--

“What do you mean she’s with the  artificers?!” Pallas shrieked as soon as Alexis opened the door. She glowered, bristling in the moonlight, like a tiny angry dog in white frills and high boots. She gripped her hoverboard as if debating whether to smack Alexis with it. “We don’t even send  dead  kids to the artificers! What the  hell  is wrong with you!”

Alexis raised a hand in surrender but didn’t move out of the narrow space behind the door. “That was my reaction at first. But I think she’s okay--”

“You  think?!”

“We should talk to Runa,” Alexis ended the conversation while they stepped over the threshold and pulled the door shut, a hoverboard gleaming under their arm. “If she was the last person to see Briony, she’s our only lead. We’ve already lost a day.”

Pallas dropped her hoverboard, stomped on it and folded her arms, her jaw clenched against the spout of insults that stoppered her throat. “So are you gonna get dressed, or are you conducting an interview in your pajamas?”

Alexis glanced down at their soft slippers and matching pawprint fabric. “It isn’t pajamas,” they explained. “It’s a tunic.”

Pallas made a show of rolling her eyes before she glided away down the starlit street.

Alexis swept after her. “It’s not pajamas!” they insisted, echoing in the night.

--

  *knock knock knock*

Alexis waited in front of the ornate wooden door, a glance cast toward Pallas, who stiffened and huffed and bulged her angry eyes as if she might pull her dagger on whoever answered.

Locks clicked and swished one at a time, then the heavy door hushed open. Sebastian stood in the same clothes he’d worn on the beach, backed by the dim flicker of candlelight. Though dark circles weighed heavy under his eyes, he offered a proud and curious smirk.

“Well,” he purred, and tipped his head to see Pallas balling her fists, “isn’t it late for you little birds to be out of bed?”

“Where is she?!”  Pallas wheezed through clenched teeth. “What did you do with her?!”

“Sebastian,” Alexis commanded attention with a slow and even voice, “this is Pallas, a fellow Scythe officer. We’d like to speak with Runa in connection with the disappearance of a young girl.”

“Ah. Runa. She’s sleeping, of course.” Sebastian stepped back with a flourish and opened the door wide. “But I’m sure she won’t mind if we wake her.”

Alexis marched into the smoky gloom, but Pallas hesitated several moments longer, staring into the dark doorway as if it were the hungry mouth of a dragon. But Sebastian quirked an amused eyebrow and Pallas, indignant, stomped stiffly inside.

Her stomach twisted. A knot of bile burned in her throat, and she shivered while the door slipped softly closed behind her.

One side of the wide vaulted room-- its polished wood and empty shelves reminiscent of a repurposed library --paled in the dead blue light of hanging lamps. Upon metal tables lay what remained of the four Light operatives that Kieran had dispatched that afternoon: a severed hand upturned like a dead spider. A leg peeled apart like a flower blossom. A head with its skull exposed, the face lifted away like a facade. It was unclear which parts belonged to which body. Lavender scented candles burned to mask the smell.

“This way,” Sebastian beckoned and strode to the other end of the room, where he rapped a polite knock before easing open a hidden door. “Runa,” he sang softly. “Come on, wake up. You have visitors. You remember Al, don’t you?”

He lifted the cloth from a table lamp teeming with moths, and light bloomed in the grand little room. There were tapestries and lush carpet, a gilded mirror and a polished chestnut wardrobe, and a soft four-poster bed that was far too big for the little girl who slept in it.

Pallas was the last to step inside. Her disgust twisted ugly and furious. While Alexis approached the bedside, Pallas whirled on Sebastian, snatched his collar in a fist and thrust him with a quick forceful  bang  against the door frame. “Is that your bed?” she hissed through a hateful sneer, her sharp eyes close and level with his. “Why is this child in your  bed,  Artificer?”

Sebastian raised his ringed hands in peace, his gaze half-lidded. “One, I’m not using it.” He lifted a lazy finger. “Two, it’s far more comfortable than a corpse slab, which was the other option. She’s just been through a harrowing surgery--”

“What did you do to her?”  Pallas rumbled like thunder.

Sebastian let out a slow, quiet breath. His smirk sharpened cold. “I find your imagination  most  alarming,” he said.

“Alexis?” yawned Runa. She shifted against the overstuffed pillows and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one in the morning.” Alexis knelt beside the bed, smiling gently. “I’m sorry for waking you. I brought a friend with me: the person threatening Sebastian right now is officer Pallas. She’s nicer than she looks, don’t worry. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Runa offered a tired smile in return, then pressed her palms in the soft mattress and began to sit up.

Alexis jumped, an alarmed hand on her shoulder. “No, no, don’t get up! Your spine--”

“It’s okay!” Runa laughed, and she grinned while she sat up on her own, straight and easy, away from the support of the pillows. “See? I can do it!”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Sebastian warned through a smirk.

Runa wrinkled her nose at him. “You  said  I could!”

“In the morning,” he countered. “The roots haven’t set.”

Through this exchange, Pallas’ grip weakened. The fury in her bared teeth proved harder to maintain while the child showed none of the expected signs of trauma.

Runa huffed a sigh and fell back into the pillows. “It’s  technically  morning,” she grumbled.

Alexis offered her a gentle smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Runa. I was worried.” The smile faded just a little. “You still need your rest, so I’ll skip to the reason we’re here so you can go back to sleep. We’d like to ask you about Briony. Could you tell us what you remember about the last time you saw her?”

Runa’s eyes grew wide and she clamped her mouth shut. “She was with me!” she blurted quickly. “We were playing on the hill until way after dawn, and then we saw the lampcatcher coming so she ran home and and that’s all, Briony isn’t a thief, I swear!”

Alexis raised their brows. Pallas stepped curiously closer.

“Runa,” Alexis began carefully while Pallas drew up a chair next to them, “were you and Briony involved in the graffiti on the windmill?”

Runa swallowed. She wiped her sweaty palms on the duvet. “What windmill?”

Pallas, with a pained exhale, sat down and leaned on her knees. “Why do you think we’re here?” she asked kindly.

Runa glanced quickly from Pallas to Alexis and back again, the faces of two Scythe officers both watching her expectantly. “U-um,” she stumbled over her words and squeaked, “stolen paint cans?”

Alexis shook their head slowly. A hand curled into a braced fist. “Runa,” they said gently, and met her guilty eyes with their own, “Briony is missing.”

Runa’s mouth fell open. Her body became completely still, not even a breath, as if she could stop time in the moment before she understood what they meant.

“She can’t be,” Runa whispered, and she shook her head for emphasis. “Not Briony. She’s hiding, she has to be.” She tried a smile, the sheets rumpled in her fists, while hot pressure burned behind her eyes. “I’ll help you find her.”

[hearts-hunger]

So Much Better || Poly!Queen

Summary: Freddie comes in to rehearsal with a hangover, and his boyfriends fuss over him. Companion to this mini fic!

Pairings: poly!queen

Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint

Word Count: 1.6k (she’s babey)

Warnings: None, besides my own unbeta-ed writing :P

A/N: This one’s for the sweet nonnie who asked me to expand on the poly!queen drabble I wrote for when Roger comes in with a hangover. It’s a bit long to put as an answer to an ask, so I decided to give it its own post. I hope you like it! ♡

Freddie stumbles into rehearsal with barely a minute to spare. He’s grateful for the dimmer light of the studio compared to the irritatingly bright morning sun outside; in fact, everything about the studio is especially nice considering the massive hangover he’s only possibly living through at the moment. It’s dark and cool; he smells coffee brewing, dark, just like John likes; the sounds of the street outside dull as the door closes behind him and the soft hum of Red Special drifts through the air. He takes a moment at the door to collect himself before heading in to greet his boyfriends.

Brian’s sitting on the floor, his long legs taking up an endearing amount of space on one of the soft Persian rugs that cover the studio floor wall to wall. He’s cradling Red Special in his lap, re-stringing the E, plucking gently and drawing a soft twang from the string as he tightens it. His curls fall over his face and his lips are parted slightly in concentration.

John is sprawled over the couch, one of his legs draped amusingly over the back of the sofa as he frowns at the piece of paper in his hand. He bites the end of his pencil, muttering quietly to himself, working out lyrics in his head. His expression brightens when he finds the right word, and he hastily scrawls it on the slightly crumpled sheet of notebook paper.

It takes Freddie a minute to spot Roger, but eventually he finds the blonde tinkering away at the underbelly of his drum kit. He adjusts the height of the toms, letting out a sharp curse and snatching his hand back as he pinches his finger in the process. Freddie chuckles; no matter how many times Roger adjusts the kit, he almost always has a wound to show for it. Roger tucks his hair behind his ear and tries to be a little more careful as he returns to fixing the offending drum.

“Sorry I’m late,” Freddie ventures after a moment, his voice louder than he’d expected in the comforting quiet of the studio. All three of his boyfriends look up, not having heard him come in; their expressions range from happy to worried to amused as they take stock of him.

“Fred!” John says cheerfully. “You came!”

Freddie can feel a slight blush warm his cheeks. “Of course I did, silly. We have rehearsal.”

“Yeah, but you look bloody knackered, love,” Roger says, hopping off the drum risers. He sticks his hands in his jeans pockets and gives Freddie a chaste kiss. “You sure you’re alright to be here? You had an awful lot to drink last night.”

Freddie gives a flippant wave of his hand. “Don’t I always?” he says, deflecting. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m here, aren’t I? So let’s get this show on the road.”

“You’re sure?” Brian asks, getting to his feet and putting Red Special in her stand. He comes over to Freddie and brushes his cheek with the back of his hand. “We were going to let you sleep it off.”

Freddie sighs at the soothing coolness of Brian’s skin against his. “Yes, darling, I’m sure,” he insists, though his stomach feels a bit too rocky for it to be the truth.

John folds his paper and shoves it in his back pocket before coming up to Freddie and taking his hand, kissing his knuckles in a sweet gesture that’s very like their youngest boyfriend to give. “Fred - ”

“John, my flower, I love you more than anything; but if you also ask me if I’m sure I’m alright, I won’t speak to you for a week.”

John’s smile is cheeky and he beams under the pet name. “Okay, Freddie,” he agrees, though he does it more to please his boyfriend than because of any real assurance that Freddie is as fine as he says he is. He kisses Freddie’s cheek. “Whatever you say.”

“Now, that’s more like it,” Freddie says briskly, trying his best to put on the front of the lead singer who’s all business rather than the pathetic, dreadfully hungover boyfriend he is. He claps above his head and they disperse to their spots, retrieving instruments and settling for the first run-through of the morning.

“What’s up first?” Freddie asks Brian, who’s always the most organized of them all and actually keeps track of what songs they have to get through.

“I thought we’d try Deaky’s new song,” Brian says, giving the bassist a gentle smile. “We sort of went through it before you got here, Fred, and I’d like to see how it sounds all together.”

John blushes. “Oh, well, it’s not quite finished,” he says bashfully. “And I don’t know if it’s any good, really, it might be complete rubbish.”

“Not possible,” Roger says firmly from his seat behind the drum kit. “Besides, what we worked through earlier was quite good. Go on and count us in, lovely.”

John beckons Freddie over, and Freddie stands beside his youngest boyfriend to look over his shoulder at the lyrics scrawled on the paper sitting on the music stand.

“Just, y’know, I was thinking that you’d start just after Rog comes in - ” His eyes light with excitement. “And maybe you could play some piano for it, if you wanted, I think that might be nice.”

Freddie chuckles. “If you want me to, my love,” he says sweetly. John has a tendency to get ahead of himself when it comes to songwriting - he’s got a whole vision in his head from the beginning, and it all comes tumbling out in an enthusiastic, chaotic jumble. “Let’s go through this first run-through, and then we can talk about piano, ok?”

John flushes. “Right,” he says with a laugh that sounds a little embarrassed.

Freddie kisses his cheek, right where the endearing pink of his blush shows, and John giggles. 

“Alright, flower, show me your song,” Freddie says. He hopes none of his boyfriends notice how feeble his voice sounds - he really feels quite poorly, but he’d hate to hold up rehearsal any longer than he already has. After getting confirmation from Roger and Brian, John counts them in and starts the song off with a lovely little bass riff, a waterfall of twangy notes that Freddie thinks is quite clever. He’s about to say so when Roger comes in with a run down the toms that leads into a splashy finish on the crash cymbal, and Freddie can’t help when he winces and sucks in a sharp breath at the way the sound sends pain spiking through his head.

“Oh, Freddie,” John says sympathetically, immediately forgetting the song and letting his bass hang on the strap over his shoulder so his hands can go to to cradle Freddie’s face. Freddie unconsciously puts his hands over John’s, keeping them there, trying to quiet the ringing in his head that remains even after Roger has grabbed the cymbal to mute it.

“Sorry,” Freddie says pitifully, embarrassed and trying to make light of it, but his voice is so weak that his boyfriends see right through him. The headache has made his rocky stomach even worse and he draws a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

“Jesus, Fred, I’m sorry,” Roger says, hurrying out from behind the kit to stand nervously by John’s side and look up at Freddie with an expression of guilt and worry. “I didn’t even think about - God, that was really stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Freddie says, though he can feel the sting of tears as his head continues to pound. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have gone on such a fucking bender the night before rehearsal.”

Brian chuckles as he runs a soothing hand through Freddie’s hair. “You make it sound like none of us have ever partied all night and come in to rehearsal with a massive hangover, sweetheart.”

“But it’s such a bloody pain to deal with me,” Freddie says miserably. “I’ve kept you all waiting and now Roger can’t even play because of me.”

“I don’t mind,” Roger pipes up, his guilt still evident in his voice. “I’ll sit this one out, it’s ok.”

“Better yet,” Brian suggests, “why don’t we all have a bit of a break, and we can get some medicine into you and hopefully get you feeling better.”

Freddie looks up at Brian with eyes pooled with tears, partly from the pain in his head and party from the tenderness his boyfriends are showing him. “Are you sure?”

“Now, Freddie, love, if we can’t ask you if you’re sure, you can’t ask us,” John says, teasing and sweet. He runs his fingers over Freddie’s cheek to catch the few tears that fall.

“Oh, you poor love,” John coos. “Come on, Roggie and I will cuddle you while Brimi gets your medicine.”

Roger looks a little uncomfortable, scuffing the toe of his sparkly pink converse against the rug. “I don’t have to - I mean, you know, if you don’t - ”

“Oh, hush,” Freddie says, taking Roger’s hand and pulling him close. “You’re perfectly alright, my darling. No need to fuss. Leave that to Brian.”

Roger chuckles as he leans closer to Freddie. “Okay.”

“Come on,” John says, separating himself from the two of them to put his bass on its stand before taking their hands and leading them to the couch. Brian brings water and painkillers as they settle Freddie between them. When Freddie’s taken his medicine and finished the water, as per Brian’s instructions, Freddie lays his head on Roger’s lap. John runs a soothing hand over Freddie’s thigh and Brian sits on the floor facing the couch, gently combing his fingers through Freddie’s hair.

“Better?” Roger asks.

Freddie presses a gentle kiss to Roger’s leg. “Yes, my darling. So much better.”

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @hazah@dashlilymark@punkgeekchic @harrisunn @stephydearestxo@luckytrashgooprebel @someone-get-a-medic @chlobo6

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Chapter 2

Sam Winchester, Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. A HUGE thank you to one of my besties @kazosa for continuing to remind me of this idea we had been planning for a long time now and for suggesting I finally start it. Hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Eventual Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Warnings: mild language

Words: 6.3K

Everything Tags:

@sorenmarie87 //  @lefthologramdeer // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @his-paradox // @letsby​

Supernatural Tags:

@wings-of-a-raven // @kazosa // @negans-wife // @grace-for-sale // @geeksareunique // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23  // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles  // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare

(I don’t normally tag series, but since this is an AU, I will tag specifically for this one if you don’t want to be on my SPN list. Let me know if you want to hop on any of my tag lists.)

The Pact Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose // @zombiewerewolfqueen // @silkiechicken // @collette04​

The morning of the ceremony, Sam made his way through the maze of tunnels that lead to Singer’s Apothecary. At the end of the corridor stood the oversized wooden monstrosity that led to the lair’s entrance. Using the key given to him by Singer, he made quick work of the lock and let himself in.

Passing through the frigid stoned clad archway, Sam sighed with relief when he came through the other side and felt the warm breath of heat from the fire that was always burning beneath the cauldron. The invisible barrier kept unwanted and unworthy souls out, but the cost of walking through it left a chill in Sam’s spine for days after. Bobby said it worked better than the warding that was used along the Kingdom’s borders. “It’s just a smart play,” he’d said when Sam questioned why he’d set the barrier in the first place, “considering most of the stuff in here could wipe out all of Lawrence in one fell swoop.”

Bobby had always been a friend to Sam, even when John warned him against it. Robert Singer, Maester of the Winchester House, came from a long line of men who both understood battle and books. He was well versed in spell work, warding, potions and history of creatures, both common and mysterious. He acted as a counselor to John when the King wasn’t sure how to attack a certain enemy; he’d turn to Bobby, his trusted friend, and most sought-after advisor. Even when they didn’t agree, John would at least hear him out. So, Sam knew that if he needed a way to influence his father, Bobby would be the place to start.

Sam stepped into the room and let his eyes wander slowly around. The floor-to-ceiling walls of books loomed high above him. Dual spiral staircases rose up towards the cathedral ceilings, to a narrow metal catwalk that stretched out along the perimeter. Vines and greeneries were hanging or draped from the rails, some of them blooming with an array of speckled flowers.

No sign of the old man.

“Bobby?” Sam called out and took a few steps closer to the fireplace. No response. Sam waited for another beat, then called out for him again. “Bobby, you here?”

“Down here, boy!”

Sam followed the direction of Bobby’s voice through one of the heavy black draperies that separated the rooms and down into the root cellar where he was stocking jars of lamb’s blood.

Taking his time on the stairs, he ducked down into the small space. “How do you work down here,” he asked, finally just taking a seat on the cold stones.

“Well, I ain’t ten feet tall like some people,” he snorted and placed the last jar. “What can I do for you, Sam?”

“Tonight… you’re going?”

Bobby nodded then started shaking his head. “What the hell is your father thinking?” he mumbled, knowing that Sam wouldn’t fight him on it. “If you’re here to ask me to muck it up somehow…” Bobby inhaled sharply and passed Sam an admonishing look, “it’s not a good idea, son.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here. I’m resigned to it, Bobby. I am marrying her, and that’s it.”

Bobby gave him a challenging look. “And I’m supposed to just believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” Sam shrugged. “I’m tired of fighting him on everything. If it makes him happy and helps the family and the Kingdom…” Sam trailed off and gave Bobby, his most sincere smile as he repeated the mantra he and Dean had been programmed to live by. “For the Protection of Lands and Family. Saving people and killing things, the family business. Right?”

“Mhm,” Bobby mumbled and offered Sam a hand to stand up. “Come on, you can help me sort the herbs upstairs while you tell me what it is you can here for.”

Once they were back in the Apothecary’s main quarters, Sam took a seat at Bobby’s workbench and began to separate the lavender from the meadowsweet. Bobby worked on the greeneries and kept passing curious glances at Sam from the corner of his eye.

“Well, spill it, boy. You don’t just come and do grunt work with me for shits and giggles. You got somethin’ on your mind. So, speak.”

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth turned up. “I never mind grunt worth, if I’m in here with you. But you’re right. I do need something. I want to find the Oracle. I know she’s been in town. Last I was down in the taverns, one of the men there talked of visiting her. I want to see her, Bobby.”

“To what end?” he asked, not taking his eyes from his work.

“I want to know how this all plays out. The marriage, the partnership. This tentative peace that lives between us and Crowley.”

It was Bobby’s turn to scoff. “If you think its that easy, you got another thing comin’.”

“What do you mean? She’s an oracle, isn’t she? She can see the future. Isn’t that what oracles, do?”

“Yeah, in theory. Doesn’t mean she can read your future.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, mildly incensed. “What’s wrong with my future?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, ya jackass. I just meant that, you're enchanted. You have been since you were a boy. Why do you think you just broke that hip instead of being killed?”

Sam sat up straighter at the mention of his accident. He hated talking about it… thinking about it. The way the sword pierced him through the back causing him to fall. The horse running across the battlefield, crushing his hip and shattering it to pieces. He was lucky to be alive, much less be able to walk at all.

Dean had carried him all the way to Singer’s Apothecary from the field where he assumed his brother had died. He appeared lifeless, his skin cool to the touch, his heartbeat so faint, it might as well have been non-existent. Dean demanded Bobby fix him… save him. But the old Maester said it was too late, the boy had died from the stab wound.

Minutes later, Sam gasped for air and immediately wailed in pain. The crushed bones in his hip causing a streak of discomfort like he never had before. The burning hot wound from the knife closing completely on its own. The youngest Winchester Prince sat up, eyeing his brother, fear rampant in his eyes.

“Dean… how?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he threw his arms around his brother’s neck, his hands balling into fists and beating against his back in triumph. “I thought we lost you, Sammy.”

Bobby’s voice snapped Sam back to the present, back to the favor.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, I drifted.”

“Hmm. I said the Oracle won’t be able to read you, ya idjit. Whatever your mother cast over you as a baby, it's impenetrable. No spells, potions or lore I’ve ever read can break what she did.”

Sam sighed. “I at least want to try.”

“It's your gold, son. I’ll take you to her, but there’s no time—”

“Make time, Bobby. I need to do this before the ceremony tonight.”

Bobby eyed him with frustration. “You and your father… so damn demanding,” he mumbled and pulled his cloak down from its hook. “Get your stuff, let’s go before your father realizes your gone.”

 The Oracle’s hovel was well off the beaten path that led from the Kingdom of Lawrence and into the dense forest that sat between the city and the portal entrance to the battlefields of Purgatory. She lived simply, but she accepted only gold as payment. Samuel’s coffer was full to the brim with as much gold as he could shove in there, unsure of what it would take to get her to read him truly. He didn’t really believe Bobby’s claim and needed to see for himself.

Bobby pulled the reigns of his horse, asking the beast to stop by the walkway that led to her small cabin that was built into the side of the hill. The ornate wagon Sam drove with his two best steeds came to a stop behind Bobby’s mare.

“Come on,” Bobby urged, looking up into the sky. “Day’s light is fading and its at least an hour ride back. If we’re late…”

“We won’t be. We’ll be there.”

They approached the door, and as Bobby raised his fist to knock, it opened before he could. A woman with long, dark hair stood in the entry, her eyes were as white as snow and the smile she wore was as bright as the sun.

“Robert… my old friend,” she beamed and moved to hug him without hesitation. Sam watched them with a small, satisfied smile. It was odd for him to see Bobby in anyone’s company or affections, except John’s.

“Pamela,” Bobby nearly sang. “Lovely as ever. I brought—”

“The Prince, yes, I know,” she released Bobby’s greeting and turned her haunting eyes towards Sam.

“Samuel Winchester, the enchanted boy prince. I was wondering when you would come to see me.”

Sam’s expression faltered as he looked between her and Bobby. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to read me at all,” he said, leaving out Bobby’s role in the seed of doubt.

“Let’s see what we see, shall we?” she urged with the same, bright grin. “Come,” she took his hand and led him inside towards the center of the room. She motioned towards the round wooden table, covered in a plum-colored velvet cloth. “Come sit at the table and let’s see what the spirits have to offer for you, Samuel.”

On the cloth was a gold leaf triad knot, at each point was a high back wooden chair for them to take place in. Their hands clasped together around the table, eyes closed, breath steady. Pamela mumbled a variety of words in the old Enochian. Some Sam could recall from his old lessons, others sounded foreign to his ears. As she pressed on, the air in the room became cold and heavy at the same time. It made Sam feel as if there was something in there looming over them.

There was a lengthy pause, and just as Sam begun to wonder if it was going to work at all, Pamela began to speak.

“You’re in deep despair,” she whispered, her ghostly eyes wide and raised up to the ceiling. “You mourn her, still. Though her spirit has crossed the veil, you cannot let her go. Need for vengeance drives you to make rash choices. But… they are meant to be made.”

The table began to vibrate, and a breeze cascaded through the room, causing the candles to flicker chaotically. Pamela continued with more Enochian as if she was holding a conversation with the unseen visitor, and then translating it to you.

“You hold jealousy in your heart. Wishing to trade places with your brother. To be gone, in battle. You must realize though, that isn’t your place. Your place is here. With her.”

“Her?” Sam rasped in question. “Her, who?”

“The twin to your soul. The one who holds your future. She’s yet to show herself, but behind the feathers, the dark, iridescent feathers, lies the match to your unburnt flame. She’ll be of great comfort to you when your grief folds you over and renders you useless.”

“That makes no sense to me,” he muttered in reply, looking to Bobby who sat and watched quietly, giving him no type of reaction at all.

“There’s something dark, something laying in wait for… you, your family. A cloud, as black as a reaper’s suit. It waits. When you recognize it, don’t hesitate. Act and you’ll be protected, no matter what you think may happen.”

The Oracle made no sense. Sam couldn’t imagine anything she was saying to apply to him. There were no other women in the world for him. Ever. Regardless of the arrangement of his marriage. That woman wouldn’t be long for this world, that he could be sure of. Whatever darkness she spoke of, everyone knew of the past feud with Crowley, even the traveling Oracle must have heard the tales, so she could easily feed him a warning and apply it to Crowley.

As for Crowley’s daughter, she would be a sacrifice. An eye for an eye. The Oracle never saw that, nor any of his other plans he was hopeful she would have touched on. He was beginning to think that Bobby had been right all along and that Pamela was just saying anything to make him feel fulfilled with going to see her.

Pamela’s hands started to shake and as she quickly spoke in Enochian the entire atmosphere of the room changed, the heaviness was gone, and the warmth reclaimed the small space. She released both of their hands, then brought her nonexistent gaze back to Sam’s face.

“That was it?” he asked suspiciously, “Nothing else at all?”

Pamela just shook her head. “I know you don’t understand your message, yet. But I promise you, dear boy, you will.”

He considered straight out asking about the marriage, and if his plans for Crowley’s daughter would elicit the outcome he wanted, but he stopped himself. Revealing his plans to Bobby would just be stupid. The old Maester would surely try and stop him. Besides, he wanted the truth from the oracle. If he outright asked her, she could just give him the answer she thought he wanted.

Instead, Sam smiled and took her hand in both of his. “I sure hope so, madame. Here, a gift for your time.”

He reached into his coat pocket and placed the coffer of coins into her palm. When the weight of the bag sat heavy in her hand, she gasped slightly in surprise. “No, this is far too much, Lord Samuel. I know you aren’t pleased with what came through, and even if you were, this is just taking advantage.”

“No, take it,” he said and closed her fingers around the bag. “Use it to spread good cheer or help a neighbor if you can’t use it yourself. I just appreciate your time.”

“Well, thank you, M’Lord. I will put these coins to good use. Next time though, its’ on me. No matter what you think now, I have a feeling you’ll be back.” She smirked knowingly and gave him a lingering wink.

After a brief goodbye, Sam and Bobby were back on the road towards Lawrence. They rode in silence for a while until Bobby couldn’t take the quiet any longer.

“Well, feel better?”

“No,” Sam said, “I think maybe, you were right. She couldn’t read me.”

“Then what she was saying, you don’t believe her?”

“No,” he said again, “None of what she said rang true, nor did it feel genuine. I’m not calling her out as a fraud. But…” he trailed off and shrugged, causing Bobby’s expression to fall and replace it with disgust.

“Boy, don’t. That woman is the real deal. No tricks. No hoodoo. She’s a seer, through and through. If she couldn’t read you, or if what she read was false, its simply because of—”

“Whatever mother did.”

“Yes. So, can we move on now, please? Get back, get you cleaned up and get you married before your father realizes you’re not there?”

Sam nodded without saying anything more, clicked his tongue with the reigns to speed the horses up and get home to meet his new bride.

  It was the first time ever in your memory that you had been allowed to leave Crowley’s compound and the castle walls that had encased you for nearly your entire life. This day, you could pack your most favorite belongings and leave the grounds for good. You would never have to spend another night locked away in some old, musty turret, dreaming of escape. Though marrying a Winchester was not something you were happy about it, if it meant earning a one-way ticket out, you would promise to be his wife.

The caravan that was carrying you to your new life was moving slowly towards the other end of the realm where the Winchester Castle stood in all its ornate glory. Never having seen it with your own eyes, or any of the realms, really, you had to rely on the stories and descriptions from others. Even the man you were intended to marry, Samuel, you knew nothing about him except what you heard in whispers among Crowley’s people.

To your side, Rowena had her nose buried deep in an oversized book that was nearly as old as she was. Crowley refused to accompany you to the Winchester’s castle, instead of sending Rowena in his place. She complained, of course, but in the end, she relented and went willingly.

You watched her read the book and wondered if she knew the man you’d been betrothed too. Had she been to the Winchester castle? Had she ever met the King? So many questions ran through your mind as to what Rowena could answer for you now that you were out of Crowley’s reach.

“Rowena, do you know him?”

“Who’s that, dear?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the page.

“Samuel.”

“Aye,” she replied, drawing out the word slowly.

Rowena felt your eyes on her but did her best to concentrate on the book in her hand. It wasn’t just any book, and it had been her prize for escorting you to your new home and staying with you until the ceremony was done. She hoped you wouldn’t be peppering her with questions, but once you started, it was hard to stop.

“What’s he like? Is he deformed like some say? Hobbled?”

She sighed deeply and closed the Book of the Damned. “Well, yes, but not as bad as some would like to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what I understand, he was wounded in the early days of the war in Purgatory. Some said that his brother carried his lifeless body all the way home from the battlegrounds. Yet, when they got there, the young prince had found life again. It’s not impossible I suppose, I’ve certainly seen my share of men rise from the dead. Either that or the brother is a nit wit and can’t find a heartbeat properly,” she rolled her eyes and waved him off. “He healed, but he walks with a cane and couldn’t return to battle.”

You just grunted in understanding. “Is he kind or is he more like father? Purposely withholding and cruel, and unable to love anything.”

“Your father loves you, dear. He’s just… preoccupied. As for Samuel, I’ve only ever met him once, and from what I could see, I don’ think you’ll have much trouble with him.”

Casting your eyes out of the carriage window, you watched the countryside pass by as the horses slowly made their way towards the Lawrence River. It was the first time you could recall seeing it up close. The sound of the rushing water was soothing to your ears and for the first time, you wondered if you would miss the sound of the waves against the cliffs that would echo through your chambers throughout the night.

So many nights it had helped lull you to sleep, especially when thoughts of things that plagued you invaded your dreams. That led to another question popping in your head. Something you had wanted to ask Rowena for years, but for fear of suffering Crowley’s wraith, you abstained. But now, his influence was far away, and there was no one to stop you from asking.

“Will you tell me about my mother? Now that we’re gone from his walls? He never tells me anything about her.”

Rowena glanced at you, her eyes filled with warning. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you, poppet? That is not a place you want to go to. Let that sleeping dog lie.”

“But why? She’s my mother, why can’t I know about her? He tells me that I’m so much like them both, but I see nothing of myself in him. He’s cruel, and power hungry. All he cares about are his demons and his Kingdom. Being ‘the Red King’ has gone to his head, made him even more foul and loathsome than before.”

“Easy, child. He may be a right and proper cunt, but he’s still my son. An I won’ have ya speaking of him that way. Fergus is who he is, partially because I was an awful mum to him. Yet, look at what he’s built. If you don’ think that the Winchesters feel the say way about their father, you’re sadly mistaken. No child loves their parent truly, not if that child wants to grow up with power and purpose.”

“I’m not a child,” you mumbled and closed your eyes in disgust at what you heard pour from her lips. Deciding that was enough questions, you turned back to watch the scenery pass by. Rowena opened her book again, thinking the conversation was done, but the way your conversation ended sat heavily on her mind.

“Then stop acting like one,” she retorted and took her hand into hers. “You have every right to ask about your mother. But, its just not something that needs to be discussed now. Know that she loved you and she didn’ want to leave, but she had to. One day, I’ll tell you more, but for now, you just remember that she loved you and only wanted the best things for you.”

You exhaled deeply and when you looked back out of the window again, you could see the tall peaks and turrets of the castle in the distance. The closer you got, the more of the slate gray stones of the towers could be seen coming up through the dense forest that surrounded it. It was exciting and yet, terrifying, to think of being anywhere but your father’s compound. Up until this point, it almost felt surreal. Yet, here you were staring down the place that would become your new home. IF the Winchesters were true to their word and let you live, that is.

There was still some doubt as to the validity of Crowley’s claim to your safety and it had weighed heavily on your mind for the past two days. The deal itself felt sudden and strange, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to it. An undercurrent of treachery so great, that it had the potential to cause irreparable damage to many lives. The Winchesters, after all, were your father’s greatest enemy for many years and the only ones who had ever proved to be so troublesome.

You weren’t going to leave the compound for the Winchester’s and not be prepared to defend yourself. Yet, straight up slaughtering your husband-to-be would most certainly lead to your death as well. There had to be a better plan…

The night before leaving home, you snuck down into the chambers Rowena kept for her visits. There, you paged through the stacks of books until you found the spell you wanted; a simple love spell. “Better safe than sorry,” you had told yourself as you waited for the clear liquid to cool. Once it did, it flashed a bright, blood red and then faded back to its transparent state. Two drops of that in Lord Winchester’s drink would guarantee him to fall head over heels in love with you.

“And unable to slice your throat from ear to ear,” you mused silently, as the castle continued to grow as the carriage closed the distance. It was self-defense if needed, or even an escape plan once you were sure no one was watching. Either way, the potion was hidden away between the swell of your breasts, ready to be used in an instant if need be.

The stone cobbled guard tower came into view, surrounded by at least four of the Winchester Guard. Your heart began to pound just as Rowena gave your hand a squeeze.

“Here we go girly, keep your wits and remember where you come from,” she said then plastered on her best fake, yet charming smile.

Once the carriage was granted passage, you and Rowena were escorted towards the castle’s entrance. When the carriage door opened, one of the Winchester Guards was there to help you carefully down and bowed slightly once your feet were firmly on the gravel.

Looking around, you were already in awe of your surroundings. The stark contrast of where you had lived to this new place was almost shocking. In place of the putrid and dank forest that caged Crowley’s compound, there were trees and greeneries that were dotted with an abundance of colorful, fragrant flowers. The breeze smelled of orchids and fruit instead of sulfur and death. The sun was bright and warm, and the clouds floated by like wispy remnants of cotton candy, instead of the thunderous threatening ones that plagued the sky and loomed over the MacLeod homestead.

This place was alive with beauty and hope, and suddenly you could see why Crowley wanted it so desperately. You’d only been there for a handful of minutes and you already never wanted to leave.

“Come, (Y/N), they want to escort you to your chambers,” Rowena beckoned. When you didn’t immediately comply, she grabbed your hand and yanked you forward. “Will you please act like you’ve been around people before?” she chastised under her breath.

Giving her a dangerous scowl, she recoiled sharply but not enough for the others to notice.

“Remember who helped you get here, dear,” she mumbled before linking her elbow through yours and moving you up the stairs and into the grand entrance of the Winchester’s Castle.

The guards led you through the winding passageways and up to one of the turret rooms. It was sparse in furniture and décor, but you didn’t care. It was the view from the window that captured your attention. From its height, you could see a remarkable amount of Lawrence, including the river and far off foothills that led straight back to the cliffs you used to call home.

“Never again,” you thought and absently touched your cleavage, thinking of the love potion hidden there.

“His Majesty would like you to remain here until the time of the ceremony. Should you require anything, a chambermaid will be up soon to see to your needs,” the guard proclaimed flatly before bowing his head and taking his leave.

“Alright, let’s get you ready for this,” Rowena said and opened the trunk you’d brought with you. She pulled the dress from it and wrinkled her nose. “This is what you’re wearing?” She held the pale-pink colored frock as if it were garbage out in front of her. “Come now, this is so… not you.”

“Father chose it. Said he wanted me to appear chased and innocent,” you mused, clasping your hands behind your back and slowly walking around it.

“Well, your father isn’t here, is he? No way I will let any grandchild of mine put such a wretched color on her body. Surely, I understand why he wants you to appear that way… no man wants a woman for a wife that isn’t pure, but you are a MacLeod for cryin’ out loud. You should be dressed as one!”

“Take it up with Father,” you replied nonchalantly, secretly loving Rowena’s disgust of the dress he chose and laughing to yourself that Crowley assumed you were so chased. It occurred to you then that maybe he didn’t know all that you had been up to while living under his roof. Just because you had been a virtual prisoner in your father’s home, didn’t mean that you didn’t explore your sexuality and feelings of need over the years.

“He won’t even be here until the damned ceremony, the little twat. Suppose in that time I could find you something more appropriate.” Grabbing her wrap from the end of the small bed, she draped it over herself and cocked the corner of her mouth into a pursed grin. “I’ll be back with something more fitting for you. Until I get back, rest dear, you’re going to need it.”

Once she was gone, you slipped the small vile of the potion from between your breasts and held it up to the light. Would it be enough to save you? Would it even work on the hobbled Lord of the manner? Sighing deeply, you returned it to its hiding place and paced the room before closing the trunk and sitting on top of it. Beside you on the bed, one of Rowena’s bags was half open, and out of it stuck the corner of the Book of the Damned. Knowing she would be gone a while, you dared to peek inside. As you paged through the ancient text, a new idea began to form in your mind and a devilish grin right along with it. The magic that the book contained was far too powerful for you, but there were a few spells that you may be able to manage and would certainly help if you found yourself backed into a corner.

Without hesitation, you jumped up from the trunk and opened it again, rifling through it to find your own parchment and quill. Quickly copying down the spells you thought may come in handy, you felt your spirits rise even more than they had when you first laid eyes on the castle.

  The dungeons were dark and dimly lit, but Samuel could find his way there blind if he had too. The echo of his hard heels and cane against the stone floor rattled against the walls as he rounded the corner and entered the small room where the ceremony was to take place.

He’d heard the girl had arrived earlier in the day, while he was off with Bobby at the seer’s hut, but he had no desire to see her. Instead, he quietly retired to his own chambers and spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over the things the seer foretold. Mingled with that, were his plans for (Y/N) MacLeod. He tried to think of her only as Crowley’s daughter, hoping it would make ending her life a bit easier. But it did not. Despite his desperate need to enact vengeance for Jessica, a sliver of doubt had begun to seep into his veins. This girl was innocent, wasn’t she? She couldn’t help being a spawn of that creature, just like he couldn’t help being born a Winchester. It had just been their respective crosses to bear. Should she suffer for her father’s crimes? Could he live with himself to take the life of a woman, even if she was a witch in training, that bore the name of his enemy?

These questions and concerns plagued him for most of the afternoon, and even now as he made his way into the chambers where the ceremony would be held, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going about this plot of revenge all wrong.

Footsteps from behind caught his attention, as his father appeared from the curve of the staircase.

“Samuel,” he greeted, a satisfied smirk buried on his lips. “Glad to see you here, promptly, and even dressed as the Lord of Winchester Castle should be.” John plucked at one of the pointed corners of Sam’s black coat and brushed the wrinkle from the front of the black silk vest worn beneath it.

“Stop it,” Sam mumbled and turned from John, so he wasn’t within is reach any longer.

“Have you seen her yet?” John asked, unphased by his son’s show of rejection.

“No.”

“I’m surprised. I’d thought you would want to taste the milk before you bought the cow,” John scoffed, clearly proud of his joke at the expense of his future daughter-in-law.

Sam just rolled his eyes and limped about the room, gripping the pommel of his cane and preying it would absorb the growing rage he felt towards his father.

“Nervous, son?”

Turning sharply on his heel, Sam glared daggers at his father. “No. Please stop acting like you care how I feel about this.”

“But I do care. This… this is bigger than you, Sammy—”

“You don’t call me that,” he growled and turned away again.

Shuffling towards the table that held a decanter of wine and goblets, Sam poured himself a cup full and drank it in one gulp, relishing in the sting of it as it cascaded down his throat. He was about to pour another when approaching voices from the corridor stopped him.

Bobby entered, followed by a petite woman in a blood red dress that bore a high lace neck and flowing lace skirt. Her shock of red hair and bright red lipstick almost made her hard to look at, yet there was something quite beautiful about her. Sam wondered for a moment if this was the woman that he was supposed to wed. She looked to be around the same age as his nemesis, but witches… they could mask their true ages now, couldn’t they?

“Rowena MacLeod,” John said, half a smile forced on his face. “Lovely to see you again.” He bowed his head slightly and turned to Sam. “This is Crowley’s mother, Rowena. Rowena, my son, Lord Samuel.”

Sam took her hand gingerly and bowed his torso slightly as he shook it. The movement sent a bolt of pain down from his hip to his feet, but his face would never tell the others how badly he wanted to cry out. In turn, she offered a polite smile and curtsy before stepping back, leaving a great distance between herself and the rest of the Winchesters.

Bobby took his place at the forefront of the chamber where there were two small cast iron containers of wildflowers. Candles flickered around the windowless room. As Maester Singer cleared his throat, John and Samuel took their place on one side of him, as Rowena took the other.

“No Crowley?” Sam asked casually, though inside he was deeply disappointed. He had so badly wanted to look the man who murdered the love of his life in the eye.

“He should be here,” Rowena said, trying not to sound annoyed. “He said he’d arrive—”

“And so I have,” Crowley smirked, appearing in the doorway, red smoke dissipating in the air around him. “You know how I like to make an entrance.”

The room fell awkwardly silent as Crowley sauntered into the room, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his black suit pants. His dark eyes pounced from person to person, until they landed on Sam. That’s when he grinned. It was smarmy, a knowing type of grin and Sam resisted every urge to lunge at the man, tearing him limb from limb.

“Samuel,” Crowley cooed, approaching the boy and secretly wishing for him to act on whatever was hiding behind his blazing glare. “I hope you accept my sympathies. This can’t be easy for you. Marrying a woman that wasn’t… what was her name again?”

Sam towered over him silently, but inside, he was seething with rage.

“Enough, Crowley,” John warned, his head ticked to the side with frustration. “Can we just move this along, please? Then you and I have some things to discuss up in my chambers.”

“Right,” Crowley said, turning on his heel. “We most certainly do. Alright, let’s go. Where’s the girl?” he asked Rowena absently as he took his place beside her.

“She’s right outside, I’ll get her.”

Rowena scurried from the room, while the men stood in tense silence for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the echo of two sets of footsteps on the stone grew closer. Sam felt his mouth go dry and his chest tighten at what he was about to do. Marrying her was going to be the hard part. Speaking promises of love, caring and adoration for a woman he never met, who’s family he loathed with every bit of his being, would take every bit of strength he was able to muster up.

There was no music, no standing ovation from a crowd of weepy onlookers as there would have been, had Sam married Jessica as intended. A blanket of silence buried the room as (Y/N) walked in linked on Rowena’s arm. She looked to Crowley to come take his place to escort the bride to Sam, but he pretended not to notice.

Sam drew in a deep breath and finally had the courage to look at the woman approaching him. His heart began to pound the moment his eyes landed on her face. The dryness of his mouth extended to his throat, and he found it hard to swallow as he took her in, head to toe.

Her features didn’t resemble Crowley at all, she was nothing like him in the slightest. (Y/N) was beautiful, but Sam didn’t think that was the right word to describe what he was seeing. She was an ethereal being somehow manifesting in his presence. He felt his chest tighten, his hands grow sweaty and nervous. His tongue darted quickly over his lips, desperately giving them moisture that had seemed to leave his body.

Then, he saw what she was wearing, a black, strapless floor-length gown that was covered in tiny, reflective gems that made her simmer as if she were a dark angel straight from one of his childhood dreams. Quick flashes of lustrous blues and purples radiated from the wrap she wore over her shoulders, catching his eyes. When (Y/N) finally met him at the top of the aisle, he saw that the shawl was made from a flock of feathers… dark, iridescent feathers.

“Lord Samuel Winchester, Lady (Y/N) MacLeod, are you ready to be wed?” Bobby asked, holding his hands out, palms up, waiting for them both to accept. He watched as they both slowly nodded, barely holding the other’s gaze. “Great. Let’s begin, shall we?”

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 9

The Tiger and the Dragon by George deValier

Chapter saved by fluffchemy ♥

Yao arrived home late in the afternoon, already in possession of a replacement phone for the one he had dropped over the edge of the hot-air balloon. Brand new, complete with the same phone number and contacts information, Eduard had it waiting for him when the balloon finally set down a few hours after take off. Yao had no idea how Eduard had managed it, but he knew better than to ask. These things always seemed to work out all right around Ivan.

Yao bounced into his apartment, feeling like his feet hadn't quite hit the ground yet. The afternoon had made up his mind. He was letting all his concerns go. You can't choose who you fall in love with, he'd decided. He certainly didn't choose Ivan... but he was helpless to stop it. When they were together, Yao felt like he'd known Ivan forever, like he wanted to be with him forever. No matter what anyone else said or how they acted, one thing Yao knew… when he was with Ivan, everything was all right. It was perfect.

Yao threw his jacket and keys onto the kitchen table and headed to his bedroom to change, humming tunelessly as he went. His new phone rang in his pocket and he didn't bother to check the caller before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, yeah, I'd like an order of beef and black bean, a couple of spring rolls, and the cream of sum yung gi…"

Yao paused in his stride and clenched his hand around the phone. Gilbert. His face burned as he yelled, "That was NOT funny the first time and it CERTAINLY ISN'T FUCKING FUNNY NOW ARU!"

"Oh, man, Yao! I'm so sorry! Your number is on my phone as 'Chinese guy' right next to 'Chinese restaurant'…"

Yao hung up. The phone rung again. He ignored it. It rung again.

"WHAT?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, don't hang up."

"Why not?"

"What the hell did you do to Feliciano?"

Yao furrowed his brows in confusion. "What? Nothing!"

"Well he's over here freaking out and all we can get out of him is your name and something about some dude called Braginski."

Yao nearly dropped the phone. "What? Huh?"

"Look, we think we may have this figured out. As one who has connections to the dark underworld of organized crime myself…"

"Organi… What on earth are you on about?"

"Look, my brother's dating a Mafioso, as is my best friend."

Yao thought for a minute. "Feliciano and Lovino are not 'Mafioso's'."

"Alright maybe not. However, their grandfather definitely is."

"And just what has this got to do with…"

Gilbert sighed and his voice changed. "Look, I think maybe you should come over, Yao."

The phone went dead in his ear and Yao looked down at it, part angry, part upset, part completely and utterly confused. He resisted the urge to throw the phone at the wall and settled for yelling at it loudly. "SHIT DAMN SCREW IT ALL WHY DOES THIS KEEP…" He was interrupted as it rang again. This time it was Kiku. Yao didn't speak as he held the phone to his ear.

"Brother," began Kiku. "Not only do you decide not to inform me that you have a boyfriend, but you also keep quiet the fact that said boyfriend is in fact one of the most dangerous men in this city."

"I…" Now this was too much. "WHAT?

"I am currently trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to help calm down Feliciano as he is apparently terrified that you have been drawn into the criminal underground. And he keeps saying something about someone's spleen." Yao heard a high pitched shriek of "Braginski!" in the background.

"Look, I think Feliciano must be a little confused," said Yao desperately.

"Do you realize how hard it is to deal with him when he is like this? Get over here and sort it out." The phone went dead.

Yao immediately turned back around, picked up his jacket and keys, and raced out the door.

The walk to Ludwig's place normally took ten minutes. Yao got there in five. Ludwig answered the front door and immediately blocked it, staring down at Yao with his hands on his hips. "What the hell did you do to Feliciano?"

"Will everyone please stop asking me that?" asked Yao, trying to catch his breath. "I didn't do anything. Now either let me in or tell everyone to stop calling me and I'll go home."

Ludwig stepped aside. "You'd better come in then."

Yao walked into the living room to find Gilbert, Feliciano, Kiku, Antonio, and Feliciano's brother Lovino spread across the couches and the floor. "What is this, an intervention?"

Gilbert waved at him and grinned widely. "Hey Chinese kid!"

Yao didn't even have time to feel annoyed before Feliciano stood and threw himself at Yao, throwing his arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh Yao, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're seeing… that… that you're seeing Ivan Braginski!"

"I didn't think it mattered that much." Yao patted Feliciano awkwardly on the back and looked around for help. Gilbert seemed to find it amusing, Kiku was absorbed in a Nintendo DS, and Ludwig and Lovino just looked like they were used to it. Only Antonio looked slightly sympathetic.

"Hey, Yao, do you want a drink or something…" Antonio was interrupted as Feliciano shrieked again.

"Braginski, Yao… Braginski!"

"I can get you a coke or a…" Antonio continued.

"I, um, I…" Yao felt his head swimming.

"BRAGINSKI?"

Yao winced. "Okay, you need to stop screaming that."

"… beer or something…"

"Get him a tequila, he's gonna need it," said Gilbert cheerfully.

Feliciano leaned forward and hissed in Yao's ear. "Grandpa Rome says he once saw Ivan Braginski pull out someone's spleen." He pulled back and just looked at Yao. Yao stared back, unsure whether to be amused or terrified.

"Someone's…"

"Spleen!" cried Feliciano. "I don't even know what that is but it doesn't sound like something you should be able to just pull out!"

"Um…" Terrified seemed to be the winning emotion. "Must be a different Ivan Braginski I think."

"Big Russian guy? Scarf? Smiles a lot?" said Lovino, speaking for the first time. He spoke in a monotone.

Yao felt his stomach sink. "Yeah."

"If I were you I'd be changing my number, address, name, the lot. Won't help though. You're screwed."

"How do you pull out someone's spleen?" asked Ludwig.

"Well," said Kiku, not looking up from his DS, "You have to start with a really strong blow, and it helps if your nails are slightly sharp…"

"STOP, ARU!" cried Yao. A long silence followed.

Ludwig leaned over and poked Kiku on the shoulder. "You really need to stop watching those gore movies," he whispered.

Yao barely noticed Antonio press a glass into his hand. He tried to keep his thoughts in order but they were flying all over the place.

"Grandpa Rome says there's only one person scarier than Ivan Braginski," continued Feliciano.

"I… I think I might have met him," said Yao, his mind in a whirl of confusion.

"You've met General Winter?" asked Lovino, leaning forward in his chair.

"Yeah," said Yao in a small voice.

"Wow. You really are involved, aren't you."

"Involved? Involved with what? I don't… I don't have any idea what you're all on about!"

The room fell silent again. Feliciano shook his head, wide eyed, staring at Yao. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Oh Yao, you are not that stupid," said Kiku, still not looking up from his DS.

Yao didn't know how to respond. He didn't even know what he was thinking.

"For God's sake, Yao," said Gilbert loudly. "It's the Russian mafia, isn't it?"

Somehow it was not as big a shock as it should have been. But Yao still stood stock still, his eyes fixed on the back wall, feeling like he couldn't move. After what felt an hour, a hand touched his and pushed the glass he had forgotten about insistently to his lips. Antonio's voice spoke beside him.

"Maybe you should drink that." Yao did so, took a deep breath, and came to a decision. "Can someone give me a lift?"

Yao wasn't sure they were going the right way. He'd only been to Ivan's once, and that was being driven in a limousine with darkened windows. He was sure it would take all night to find the place but he didn't care. Yao was going to Ivan's, and he was sorting this out.

"Yao. Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Kiku as he drove at what Yao felt was a far too slow speed.

"Yes. Keep driving."

"You're positive."

"Yes."

"Yao. He's part of the Russian…"

"We don't know that yet," interrupted Yao before he could get any further. "This is all hearsay. I am going to ask him myself."

"Yao."

"What?"

"Do you realize you are still wearing your dirty work clothes? You have sauce all down your shirt."

Damn it all he was right. Yao had been so caught up in everything he hadn't even noticed. He spent the rest of the drive trying unsuccessfully to wipe the stain from his shirt and hoping Ivan hadn't noticed it that afternoon.

After many wrong turns and much bickering, they finally made it to the elaborate front gate that Yao remembered. Kiku rolled down his window and the intercom crackled as they stopped beside it. "Yes?"

Yao leaned over Kiku. "Hi. Um. It's Yao."

There was a pause. "Did Ivan send for you?" Yao recognized the voice as Toris'.

"Send for me? No. I came myself."

Another pause. "Ivan is very busy right now."

"I'll wait."

"You'll be waiting a while."

"Well then I'll wait a while."

Another pause in which Yao could hear voices talking softly but urgently over the line. Finally Toris spoke again. "Very well. Come through. Just you though… your car stays at the gate." A small door sized gate beside the main gates swung open. Yao turned and looked at Kiku.

"I'll be fine."

Kiku nodded. "All right. Call me if you need to."

Yao nodded back, stepped out of the car, and began the long walk up the driveway. He wondered what he was doing. As he passed the long flower beds full of sunflowers he thought how ridiculous the whole thing was. Organized crime? Mafia? Ivan? It couldn't be true. And yet at the same time it made perfect sense. Yet Yao was still here, still approaching Ivan's front door. Nervous, a little scared, but determined to find out the truth. He walked past two shiny black cars with drivers waiting inside and walked straight up to the door.

The door was unlocked and Yao had only taken a few steps into the entrance before a tall, terrifying presence loomed into the room. Yao froze and tried to back up but found he couldn't move. General Winter stared down at him with those cold, empty eyes. Yao shivered.

"Are you lost?" His voice was like ice.

"Uh… no… I was coming to see Ivan."

"Oh yes, the boy from the other night." Winter smiled but it just made him appear more terrifying. "Tell me. Just what business do you have with Ivan?"

"Um… no business… I just…" Yao had no idea what to say. "I'm a… friend."

"A friend?" That cold voice, those dead eyes. Yao's spine ran cold.

"Yes." Yao's voice came out as a whisper.

"What is your name?"

Yao tried to swallow. "Yao."

Winter just raised an eyebrow.

"Yao Wang." Yao could have kicked himself. Why am I answering him?

"Any friend of Ivan's…" Winter held out a hand and Yao paused before taking it reluctantly. It was freezing cold. Thankfully Winter only pressed it briefly and let go. "I am afraid I must be leaving. I am sure we will speak again."

Winter didn't wait for a response before breezing past Yao and out the front door. Yao breathed a sigh of relief, pulled himself together, and continued through the entrance into the enormous living room. Toris looked up from behind the bar that ran the length of the back wall and nodded at him. Yao began to greet him but was interrupted by an enormous crash from the next room followed by what sounded like Ivan and a woman yelling loudly. Yao's eyes widened and he immediately regretted his decision to come here.

"I'll… just come back, shall I?"

"No, no. Sit. Here." Toris reached behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of wine, pouring the yellow liquid into a glass. "The Russian wine you like so much." Toris pushed the glass over the counter to Yao and gave him a small smile. "Drink it slowly."

"Good idea," said Yao, taking a seat on a stool at the bar, which was cluttered with empty glasses and bottles.

"I apologize for the mess," said Toris, clearing the bar. "Ivan just had a quick meeting… he has nearly finished, however."

Yao started to respond but was interrupted by another large bang from next door. He froze, nerves attacking his stomach. Every word he had heard that afternoon was repeating itself in his brain. "Is everything all right?"

Toris nodded as he tidied up behind the bar. "Oh, yes. Ivan always gets upset when speaking business with his sister."

"Oh… the one who stabbed him?"

"The very one."

"A little… violent, is she?

"She once broke four of my fingers."

"Oh." Yao did not quite know what to say. He just looked around the room politely as Toris continued cleaning behind the bar. Yao found himself confused around Toris. He had no idea what the man thought of him, and it was rather unsettling. He wished it was Raivis here instead. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, Yao finally asked, "Does Ivan know that I'm here?"

"I informed him that you would be arriving shortly."

"Oh good, good." Yao kept looking around the stunning room. He had not really had time to take it all in the last time he was here. The room reeked of understated wealth. Now that he was here, it was becoming far easier to believe what he had been told of Ivan. Feeling uncomfortable, Yao took a long sip of the wine. Waiting like this was doing nothing for his nerves. Toris smirked at him.

"Careful there… you don't want to pass out again."

Yao hastily put down the glass and decided to see what he could find out from Toris. "You said Ivan was speaking business with his sister… what is this business that Ivan is involved with?"

The smile fell from Toris' face. "It is a good idea to never ask this question."

"Oh." Yao took a deep breath. "It's just that I've spoken with people who seem… familiar... with Ivan, and they mentioned the word maf…"

"This is nonsense," Toris interrupted quickly. He turned away to put away a glass. "I advise you to stop watching so many movies, Mr Wang."

Yao was not sure whether to feel relieved. "Oh."

"And I will offer you some more advice." Toris turned back, leaned on the bar, and fixed Yao with a piercing gaze. Yao unconsciously leaned back. "Leave. Get out now while you still can."

Yao's nerve riddled stomach turned cold. "What? But…" Yao waited, but Toris didn't elaborate further. "I don't understand."

"And it would be best for all concerned if you never do."

Yao sat silent, stunned, as the argument from next door filtered into the room. Toris continued to stare at him but he didn't seem angry, or cruel. Just sad… and even slightly concerned. "I… I like Ivan," said Yao finally. "Very much."

"You don't know Ivan."

"I'd like to," he said softly.

"No," said Toris, shaking his head. "I really don't think that you would, Mr Wang."

Yao didn't know how to respond. The tension in the room suddenly broke as the side door came flying open and a beautiful woman stormed out into the room. She was followed by Ivan, who sent Yao's pulse racing as usual. The woman shouted in Russian, which gradually turned into English. "… through talking about this brother, do you hear me, I am THROUGH! You never listen, do you, even after everything! If you don't consider joining us soon I'll…" she trailed into silence when she spotted Yao at the bar. Her look of fury twisted into a bitter smile. "Oh, Vanya. He is a pretty little thing, isn't he."

Yao narrowed his eyes. Ivan's sister was stunningly attractive, with long straight platinum hair and piercing blue eyes that reminded Yao of Ivan's. Her voice was only slightly accented and she seemed of an equally indeterminate age as her brother.

"Yao," said Ivan, smiling as always even though he looked slightly uneasy, "this is my sister, Natalia."

"Yao, is it?" asked Natalia, walking slowly over to Yao and offering her hand. It was surprisingly cold and gripped Yao's painfully. "How charming to meet you."

"Um, hello," said Yao, trying not to wince as she maintained the iron hold on his hand.

Natalia looked at Toris and asked something unintelligible in Russian. Toris shook his head and replied, "Nyet." Natalia smiled at Yao and released the handshake. Yao tried not to sigh in relief. "What is it you do, Yao?"

"I'm a chef," said Yao.

"A chef." Natalia's ruby red lips twisted into a smirk. She looked sideways at Ivan and raised one perfect eyebrow. "A chef?"

"I thought you were leaving," said Ivan. Yao hadn't noticed him walking up beside him.

"I am. We will speak again soon, brother." Natalia smiled again at Yao. With her teeth bared she reminded him of a leopard. "I expect I shall speak with you too, Yao." She turned to walk out, waving lightly at Toris, whose eyes followed her all the way to the door. She paused and turned back around to face Ivan. "Oh, and Ivan… Yekaterina sends her love." Natalia smiled cruelly, waved again and walked out.

Ivan's face contorted in a painful expression which he quickly blinked away. He looked down at Yao and was smiling once again. "What unexpected pleasure, Yao. What reason brings you to my house tonight?"

"I just, uh…" Oh god he shouldn't be here, why was he here, what the hell was he doing turning up uninvited. "I just had a few questions."

"Very good. Perhaps you can ask them in my parlour room? This way." Ivan gestured and Yao stood to follow him.

"Yao." Yao turned back to Toris. His eyes were wide and he shook his head. "Don't."

"Something is wrong, Toris?" asked Ivan pleasantly. Toris just shook his head and looked at the floor.

"No sir, nothing."

"Oh good. Are you coming, Yao?"

Yao looked from Toris to Ivan, his heart starting to beat faster. What if everything they said was true. He knew Ivan was dangerous, he'd known it all along. He'd been worried, known he had to get out, but it was too late for that now. So Ivan was dangerous. But he was also sweet and fun and hot and Yao just wanted to be around him and with him… was it wrong to just try and forget all the bad things? Surely it couldn't be that bad. And in the end, who cares anyway… Yao allowed himself to be convinced and nodded up at Ivan. "Yeah, I'm coming." It seemed everyone warned him against Ivan... but Yao wasn't going to listen to any of them. He was going to listen to his heart... and it was screaming at him that he was desperately in love with Ivan.

Yao followed Ivan through a long hallway into a large beautiful parlour room. This room also had a bar that ran along the back wall, plus leather couches that sat upon plush scarlet rugs, and a large pool table that took up the center of the room. The walls were decorated with stunning artworks and orchestral music swelled into the room from invisible speakers. Ivan turned and smiled down at Yao, who was already forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. He tried to focus.

"There is… I mean, there are a few things I want to ask you about…"

"Da?"

Yao leaned against the pool table and watched Ivan walk behind the bar. He realized Ivan was dressed in a perfect suit, immaculate, while Yao was dressed in the same dirty work clothes he'd worn all day, his hair still messy and slightly tangled from the balloon. He looked down at himself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess."

"No." Ivan smiled over at him as he poured two glasses of vodka. "You look lovely."

"My shirt is stained."

"Take it off then."

Focus! Yao took a deep breath and walked over to the bar. "How do you know… Feliciano's grandfather?" asked Yao, getting straight to the point, trying not to be thrown off the subject.

Ivan pressed a glass of vodka into Yao's hand. "Forget this. It is nothing."

Yao looked at the glass. Everyone seemed to want to give him alcohol today. "I mean, I was just wondering... you say you are business acquaintances, and I know that his business is…"

"Do you play snooker?" Ivan drained his glass of vodka.

So Ivan was not going to make it easy. "No. I play pool… well, only at pubs sometimes. I don't go often." Arthur was always trying to drag Yao to the local pub to play pool or darts or something.

"Hmm. This is a snooker table…" Ivan took two pool cues from behind the bar and handed one to Yao. "But we could play pool on this also."

"I haven't played for a while," said Yao, taking the cue hesitantly.

"Once you play pool, you never forget how. Is like the bicycle, yes?"

Yao laughed and tried to take a sip of the vodka as Ivan set the pool balls up on the table. When he finished he looked up at Yao and smiled. "You wish to break?"

Yao shook his head. "You break." Ivan leaned over the table, took a shot, and sunk three balls off the break. Yao raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

Ivan laughed, took another shot, then gestured to Yao. "Your turn."

Yao nodded, tried to remember what he could of playing pool in smoky pubs, and took aim. He was rather surprised when he sunk one off his first shot, but he just grinned at Ivan as he brushed past him to get into position for his next shot. "You're right, it really does come back to you." Ivan smirked.

Yao leaned over the table, aimed, and sunk the next ball easily. Ivan whistled. Yao suddenly realized he was bent over the table only inches from Ivan and wondered whether it was the shot Ivan was whistling at. Yao immediately shot upright and spun around. Ivan raised his eyes to meet Yao's.

Ivan raised his glass. "I like playing this game with you, Yao."

Yao narrowed his eyes. Just what game was that? "I know what Feliciano's grandfather does. I know what he is." Yao paused, surprised he had come out with that so suddenly. He took a very deep breath. "Are you… is that…. is that your business, Ivan? Is that what you do? And don't you think you should tell me if it is?"

Ivan paused, sighed and took a step towards Yao. "And if it is? Would you run away, Yao?"

Yao stood fast and stared straight into Ivan's piercing violet eyes. "No. No I wouldn't." And Yao realized he was telling the truth.

Ivan closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them they seemed brighter. "I think we should make this game more interesting. A little wager. You win… and I tell you everything you wish to know."

"And…" Yao swallowed, his heart in his throat. "And if you win?"

Ivan took another step closer. He was now as close to Yao as possible without touching him. "This I offer, it is very high price. So I must demand high price also. I win, Yao…. and tonight I make love to you." Ivan stared intently down into Yao's eyes. He was not smiling.

Yao's heart stopped, then started hammering. He felt his palm sweaty around the pool cue as he gripped it tighter. He breathed out shakily and managed, eventually, to whisper a response. "… okay."

It started out well enough. Yao sank two in a row, and was just starting to think that Arthur's drunken pub tuition had paid off.

"You are good at this, Yao!" Ivan raised an eyebrow at Yao admiringly.

Yao walked back to the bar and picked up his drink. He smiled slyly as Ivan surveyed the table. "You sound surprised."

"Not at all!" Ivan lined up the shot, focused on the ball, and hit it. It missed the pocket by inches and Yao grinned, starting to feel slightly relieved. He shook his head.

"You'll have to do better than that, Ivan."

Ivan just straightened up and leaned on his cue, smiling serenely across the table at Yao. Yao bit his lip, looked back at the table, and watched as the ball ricocheted off the side of the table and slammed into the opposite pocket. His eyebrows shot up and his stomach twisted nervously. He quickly looked away and took a burning sip of vodka as Ivan laughed softly. Yao slammed down the glass and narrowed his eyes. "All right, it's on now."

Yao managed to gain a slight lead and was slowly growing confident that he might be able to pull off a victory. Ivan seemed more intent on watching Yao than the table, and Yao found that he didn't mind at all. He was just starting to enjoy himself, brushing past Ivan as he edged around the table, trading small touches and tiny smiles, gentle sneaked caresses that were gone almost before Yao noticed. His spine tingled and he had never felt more conspicuous in his life. But damn, the way Ivan was looking at him, Yao was almost at the point of wanting to lose. Yao missed a ball and went to lean back against the bar, taking another sip of vodka. He was surprised at how the taste was growing on him.

"Watching you drink vodka… this is the sexiest thing I have ever seen." Ivan actually winked at him and Yao nearly dropped the glass. He managed to steady it at the last second but not before he spilled quite a bit of the vodka over his hands. Yao closed his eyes briefly. He had been doing so well up until then. But it never took much for him to lose his composure, and this was fast becoming too much. Yao had quickly forgotten the very reason he was there in the first place, entirely caught up in this game he was playing with Ivan, whatever it had turned into.

Thankfully Ivan missed his next shot. He joined Yao at the bar and, before Yao could move to take his shot, Ivan grasped him by the wrist. A hot flush ran through him and his breath caught. Ivan smiled at him and shook his head.

"Ah Yao, you always manage to spill my drinks, don't you?"

Yao opened his mouth to answer but couldn't quite think of what to say. And then he couldn't think of anything when Ivan lifted his hand to his lips and gently sucked his index finger into his mouth, lathering the tip with his tongue. Yao heart suddenly beat so fast he felt he would pass out and he was hit by a strong memory of the first night he had met Ivan. Yao took a deep breath, determined to stay conscious this time. Ivan gave Yao's finger a playful bite, smirked at him, and quickly drew back. "Your turn, Yao."

Yao nodded, dazed, and tried to focus on his next shot. It was hopeless. He barely managed to hit the ball. Yao dived for his glass again, concentrated on his breathing and was just trying to determine where he let it all go wrong when Ivan sunk four in a row, slam dunked the black, and immediately turned on Yao. Yao's eyes went wide and he gripped tightly onto the glass. He couldn't breathe.

Ivan gave a little shrug. "I win."

Yao swallowed past the burning sensation in his throat. He suddenly realized that there had been no chance he was going to win that game. "Um. Yes. I suppose you do."

Ivan rested the cue against the table and approached Yao slowly. "I assume you are intend to honor our deal, yes?"

"I… aru…" Yao's stomach turned itself into nervous knots as he looked up into Ivan's smiling face. He barely noticed he was pressing himself back into the snooker table. "Well, I…" Ivan finally reached him and took the pool cue from his hand, dropping it to the floor. He then took the glass of vodka from Yao's hand, drank the lot, then grasped Yao's waist and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Yao closed his eyes, gave up, and melted into it. He allowed Ivan to lift him onto the pool table and he grasped onto Ivan's shoulders as he kissed him deeply.

The kiss tasted of fire and vodka. Their tongues sparred desperately and every touch sent fiery shocks through Yao's spine and radiating through his skin. Ivan pressed down onto Yao, their hips melding perfectly together. Yao gripped onto Ivan with shaking hands and gasped as he realized he was thrusting against him, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He was lost in the feeling of Ivan, that strong, overwhelming, intoxicating sensation that he always invoked. Ivan ran his hands down Yao's sides and Yao shuddered at the feeling, Ivan's hands pressing so tightly into his skin, their clothed bodies grinding desperately into each other, grasping and pulling to be as close as possible.

Yao broke the kiss and threw back his head, gasping loudly, as Ivan thrust his hands under Yao's shirt and pulled it off. Ivan immediately grasped his neck and pulled him back into the kiss, and Yao could feel his hair falling sweaty and wild around him, but he couldn't care less. All he cared about was feeling this, feeling more of this, feeling everything that he possibly could from Ivan. Yao's breath came erratically as he felt Ivan's warm lips leave his and trail firmly down his jaw and suck on his throat, Ivan's strong hands grasping his neck and his hip, Ivan's large body still pressing him down into the table with that irresistible force.

Yao was already so hard it was painful. Unable to stop himself, he thrust his hips strongly up into Ivan's and Ivan responded by standing and fiercely pulling Yao with him. Yao barely managed to wrap his legs around Ivan's waist before he was lifted from the table, carried to the nearby leather couch, and laid down as Ivan lay down above him. This is really happening… Ivan leaned down and kissed Yao softly before whispering, "This is all right, yes?" Oh yes, this is all right…

"Yes, yes," said Yao, only able to respond in a whisper. "Please don't stop." Ivan ran his hand over Yao's thigh, squeezing almost roughly, as Yao pulled off Ivan's scarf. Yao tugged insistently on Ivan's shirt and tried to unbutton it with shaking hands. Ivan reached up and impatiently ripped it off. Yao froze, his breath caught in his throat. Oh God, now that was an incredible chest. Yao hesitantly reached up and ran his hand through Ivan's chest and over his perfect muscles. Again he thrust his hips and Ivan slipped his arm around Yao's back and pulled him up off the couch until their chests were touching, skin against skin. Yao's brain was only just catching up that this was really happening, this was real right now. Ivan turned them on their side and, feeling Ivan's arm still around his back, Yao felt Ivan's other hand pressing against the front of his jeans and he gasped at the sudden almost overwhelming wave of pleasure.

"May I?" asked Ivan, his eyes twinkling. Yao just nodded breathlessly and Ivan's fingers skillfully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans in one swift movement. Yao quickly slipped his hand inside the pocket and squeezed his Buddha statue one last time for luck before he lifted his hips and Ivan pulled the jeans swiftly down, along with his underwear. Yao's eyes widened and he gasped, surprised, and buried his head in Ivan's chest. He closed his eyes tightly and clutched onto Ivan's arm, feeling it flex as Ivan reached between his legs, took his cock, and started to stroke it slowly. Yao's hammering heart seemed to double in speed and he felt dizzy. Oh god Ivan was touching him… kissing him… how did it feel so good… how could anything feel this good. Yao was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that this was the first time someone else had touched him there… and then it was too much. Yao gently, reluctantly, pushed Ivan's hand away. Ivan immediately pulled back.

"I am sorry, I did not…"

"No, no!" Yao reached up, grasped Ivan's neck and desperately pulled him back down. "No, I just…," he panted, "I'm too close…" Ivan captured Yao's lips again, thrusting forcefully with his tongue. Yao wanted to get closer. Barely thinking, he reached between them and fumbled with the zip of Ivan's pants. Ivan lifted his hips and helped Yao push them down. Yao parted his legs to let Ivan lie between them and shuddered, almost stunned, as their bare hips suddenly melded together. Then he looked down and froze. Everything stopped as his mind went blank. Oh. Holy. Shit. Well what do you know. Francis was right. Yao just stared and didn't know what to say."You… my… you're gonna fu… I mean… " you're gonna put that thing in me? Before he could stop himself he blurted out, "It's not gonna fit!" and immediately burned red. "I mean… aru… oh god…" Yao covered his face with his hands. Damn it. He knew it wouldn't be long before he ruined everything. "Oh my God I'm… I'm sorry, I…"

Ivan chuckled lowly. "Ssh. Why not we just do… this…" Ivan took Yao's shaking hand from his face, kissed it, then brought it down and placed it on his cock. Ivan moaned softly against Yao's ear, sending tight hot shocks through his spine. Yao's breath came erratic against Ivan's chest as Ivan slowly moved his hand up and down, then let go and grasped Yao's cock, stroking them both together in an infuriatingly slow and irregular rhythm. Yao's stomach tightened and he felt his mind would explode.

"I… okay… I…" Yao gasped, almost unable to feel embarrassed through the waves of pleasure. He certainly couldn't finish the sentence.

"Ssh…" Ivan kissed Yao strongly, rubbing his back with his free hand. "We don't do anything you don't want to. Trust me?" Ivan whispered against Yao's lips.

Yao looked up into Ivan's smiling violet eyes. He wondered how he had ever thought of them as cold. "I trust you," he whispered. Yao once again thought he would come at once, but Ivan's uneven stroking kept him just hovering before the brink.

Ivan smiled as Yao arched into his touch. Just to lie there in Ivan's arms, that body against his, touching each other so intimately like this, all sweat and gasping breath and this wonderful feeling of being beyond control. It was not enough. It was too much. It was everything. "Is this all right?" asked Ivan softly.

Yao fought to answer. "…yes…"

"And this?" Ivan stroked faster.

Yao could only whisper a response. The smell of Ivan's sweat was intoxicating. "Yes… yes…"

"And…." Ivan stroked faster, evenly, clutching Yao so tight against him it was almost painful. "This…"

"Y… ye… ahhh…" Yao rocked his hips helplessly against Ivan, trying to keep up with his strokes. Yao was vaguely aware he was panting but was unable to stop it. He was too far gone now. The incredible pleasure between his legs was mounting to a level he couldn't take. "Oh God…. I can't…"

"Let me see you come, Yao," said Ivan, his voice rough and low

And that was it. Everything narrowed to a point and Yao gasped, his breath and sweat mingling with Ivan's. "Ivan… I… I…" I love you. Yao came harder than he ever had in his life, clutching onto Ivan's shoulders, his head pressed against Ivan's neck. Ivan whispered unintelligible words into Yao's ear and only seconds later he gasped, clutched Yao's hair and Yao felt his hot release run across his thighs.

Yao tried to bring his breathing and his heartbeat under control, and tried to grasp what had just happened. After weeks of dreaming about it, it suddenly seemed so surreal. He was overcome by a wave of tiredness and he lay his head against Ivan's chest, feeling Ivan's arm still holding Yao tight against him.

"You are all right, Yao?" asked Ivan, his voice low and breathless and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Oh yes. I'm all right." Yao had never felt so comfortable, so safe, so happy. So content. He yawned loudly, unable to stop it, and heard Ivan laughing softly. He felt Ivan kiss the top of his head and he smiled. He could feel the beginnings of sleep pulling him under. "Ivan," he said sleepily, his eyes heavy as he rested his head against Ivan's chest and breathed his scent, "What did you say before?"

"I asked if you were all right," said Ivan slowly.

"No, before that, I didn't understand… it was in Russian, I think?"

"Ah," breathed Ivan, kissing Yao again and holding him tighter. "It means, My Soul."

"My Soul," sighed Yao. "That's pretty."

"Yes. Very pretty," said Ivan, slowly stroking Yao's back.

My Soul. Yao thought he had heard that somewhere before. But he could no longer keep his eyes open. He fell asleep, the sound of Ivan's heart beating steadily against his ear, and with the vaguest feeling that he had forgotten to ask something very important.

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

THANK YOU FLUFFCHEMY FOR SAVING THIS CHAPTER!

[caramelcat303]

Crenny Week Day 2: Games

Kenny’s POV

I hum softly leaning down besides a beautiful dandelion. They were so beautiful yet they were considered a weed. I gently pick the flower placing it behind my ear. I could relate to the flower more than one would think. After all I am the beautiful princess Kenny, fairest in all the lands. Though despite how beautiful I was I had dark origins. It was no matter though, I had the humans under my finger tips.

“Find that mother fucker!” Eric yells from Kupa Keep. “I want you to find that fucker and banish him!” Eric was screaming so loud I could hear it from the other side of the street. Sure this was nothing new but someone must have really pissed him off. Just as I was about to head over a hand covers my mouth. Just as I was about to fight or scream the strange person shows me the stick of truth.

“Sleep.” he demands waving the stick. I fall unconscious right away. I fall limp into my attacker’s arms and he carries me bridal style. Where we were going? I had no idea but it was a rather long walk. Once we arrive at our destination I hear the voice speak once more.

“Awake Princess Kenny.” I whimper opening my eyes and looking up in surprise to see my hands were handcuffed to a pipe, kinky. My eyes land on my attacker who steps into the light so I could see him. Feldspar.

“Feldspar what is the meaning of this?!” I yell struggling against the handcuffs. He let out a dark chuckle.

“I am no longer Feldspar I am Dark Mage Craig!” He yells holding the stick up proudly.

“I only used that name as I cover for my real purpose to steal the stick and you my dear princess.” He runs a finger under my chin and I pull away.

“Why did you want to steal me? I have done you no wrong.” Craig laughs and leans down forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“That’s exactly why I stole you. I was a level 13 thief princess. So why, why is it that I couldn’t steal your heart?” I feel my cheeks flush and I stare at Feldspar I mean Dark Mage Craig in surprise. Did he really mean it?

“So that’s why I stole you princess, if I can’t have you no one will. Not that stupid Paladin that follows after you like a love sick puppy or anyone else!” He hisses angrily. Did he mean Butters? He stands once more turning to the door.

“Now excuse me why I go deal with your rescue party.” Before I could ask what he means I hear a shout from outside.

“H-Hang in there princess! Were comin’!” It was Paladin Butters. Did Craig really mean what he said? I bite my lip shifting to try and be more comfortable being handcuffed wasn’t exactly the same as laying in a soft bed. I listening to the fighting before I hear running over to the door. My heart is pounding and Craig slams the door open. His nose was bleeding and he had bruises all over his face and body. They really fucked him up. Craig ran over and gets the handcuffs off of me.

“Princess… They don’t appreciate you for who you really are. I know you’re half elf half orc.” Craig whispers into my ear. My breath stops and I hear Eric and the others running up.

“He’s raping the Princess save her!” Eric slams the door open and my handcuffs fall. I rub my wrists in pain watching wide eyed as Craig turns quickly holding the stick out.

“Stay back!” Dark Mage Craig hisses angrily and let out a dark growl. The others freeze and butters throws his hammer into Craig’s head. I go wide eyed watching Craig fall to the ground out cold. Blood was dripping from his head.

“We did it!” The others celebrate and cheer. I get up looking at Craig’s body. His face was twisted in pain and he was completely still. I place a gentle kiss to his head where the wound was and take the stick from his hands.

“Princess Kenny?” Paladin Butters asks worriedly. I raise the stick up and hum softly looking at the rest of the group.

“That’s Dark Princess Kenny to you.” I smirk making the others stare at me in shock.

“Oh god damn it!” Eric yells angrily. I use the sticks power to fling the entire group to the wall and chain them up. I place the stick into my cleavage and carefully lift Dark Mage Craig into my arms.

“Princess Kenny! Y-Ya don’t have to do this!” Paladin Butters calls to me. Craig wasn’t as heavy as I thought he’d be, or maybe I was just stronger due to the stick.

“I know I don’t. It’s my choice.” With that I make my way down the tower holding onto Dark Mage Craig. Some of his hair moved to his eyes so I carefully sweep it to the side like how he always had it. His face seemed to relax a little at that motion and a soft smile crosses my lips. I place a gentle kiss to his lips before heading out. I needed to get him to a doctor, and a makeup wipe. If Craig woke up and found my lipstick stained on his lips he’d freak out. I laugh softly at the idea carrying Craig off to the hospital. This wasn’t exactly a perfect fairy tail ending but then again he wasn’t perfect either.

[themurphyzone]

Haunted Ch 2

Now that Aspects is finished, I decided to make Haunted my new project!

Ch 2: A Place Between Two Worlds

Someone loudly rapped on the door, each sharp knock causing Heinz to flinch. Mother paused her soothing lullaby to Roger, hurrying downstairs as she gently shushed him. 

“Who’s at the door, Mother?” Heinz asked as she passed by him. 

She looked over her shoulder briefly, her mouth open in surprise. But she dismissed it with a shrug, balancing Roger with her body as she opened the door. 

Heinz giggled at the oddly-dressed elderly woman with so much jewelry hanging off her arms that he thought her limbs would fall off from the sheer weight. She was stooped over like a bird, and only her eyes peeked out from a dark red veil. 

“Soothsayer Maria,” Mother greeted. “Would you mind having a look around?” 

The old soothsayer rolled her eyes impatiently. “That’s what you called me for, is it not? Now, stand aside and let me work.” 

Mother nodded, slightly taken aback by her rudeness. “I need to put Roger down for a nap. I’ll be back.”

Heinz gasped in shock as Maria suddenly yanked Mother’s arms downward to get a better look at Roger. She murmured gibberish under her breath, sprinkling Roger with a yellow powder from a small pouch around her waist. “Extract of milkweed,” she said. “The smell is undetectable for people, but it’s extremely foul for evil spirits. They won’t get your precious boy now. You may put him to sleep.” 

Maria waved her hand dismissively, and Mother composed herself as she headed upstairs.

“What do you think it smells like?” Heinz asked as Maria uprooted the couch cushions. “Is it like a skunk where you need to take a bath in tomato juice after you get sprayed? What if it smells like Kenny’s shoes? Cause Dieter passed out once he got a whiff of that stuff, and it was pretty funny!”

“Ah yes, there are echoes off the walls,” Maria whispered. “A past buried and hidden, but it lives on. The truth always finds a way to come out. And when we reach that day, peace will be achieved.” 

As she sprinkled Doonkleberry juice over several cracks in the wall, Mother rushed into the living room. “Roger is asleep. Did you find anything?” 

Maria nodded sagely. “The foundation is unstable.” 

“Well, Hans didn’t buy this plot from the most reputable merchant-” 

“When one only thinks of physical needs, everyone suffers,” Maria said, her eyes narrowing behind the veil.

This woman made no sense. Mother hired her to ward off evil spirits, not spout confusing riddles! Heinz didn’t like her at all. 

“Now, the foxglove flowers will block a poltergeist’s sight. Keep these away from the baby, dearie. They’re poisonous,” Maria continued, placing several bottles of various objects on a broken table. “A feather from the tail of a dominant rooster will ensure that the poltergeist cannot hear you speaking ill of him. And lastly, a wad of mice tails so that he may not harm you. I believe this should suffice.” 

“Yes, it will,” Mother said, holding a hand to her chest in relief. “I’ll tell Hans when he comes back.” 

Maria’s jewelry rattled as she drew an envelope out from the folds of her dress. “My payment. Some of my materials aren’t easy to procure, you know.” 

“Yes, I understand,” Mother said. “Wait here. We made sure to save a few coins after...you know.” She opened a cabinet, digging around the various trophies Only Son had won for the money. 

“Denial can be a powerful thing,” Maria mused. “Avoid it at all costs.” 

Heinz froze, realizing that she was staring straight at him. Just his luck that the creepy lady was the only one who actually paid attention to him.  Since he didn’t want to stick around anymore, Heinz decided to see what Father was up to.

Father wasn’t at the tavern. Which was odd. He always went out with a few neighbors at this time. It was surprising that he managed to escape the notice of the large man who stood guard at the entrance since he always yelled at kids who got too close. He was tempted to make some noise to draw the man’s attention. 

Then he heard a commotion at the edge of the village. Father barked orders to two other men, who carried a lumpy bundle completely swaddled in plain black cloth. Only Son trotted proudly between their heels, occasionally snapping at their exposed skin. 

Curious, Heinz followed them. He remained hidden from sight, so he didn’t provoke his Father. 

Several onlookers watched the group make their way to the edge of the forest, where all sorts of creatures who wanted to prey on humanity dwelled. They whispered and turned away, refusing to get involved. 

The bundle was dropped at the base of a large, gnarled tree. Father removed the cloth, tossing it at one of the men who carried it there. Then he marched off, snapping his fingers at Only Son to follow. 

But Only Son paused, stopping to scent the air. Then his hackles rose, a growl erupting from his throat. 

Heinz ducked as Only Son lunged straight towards him, his jaws snapping together. He covered his face with his hands. Then Only Son suddenly yelped. When he peeked between his fingers, he saw Father dragging him back by the collar, swearing profusely at his sudden disobedience. Only Son whined and growled, but received a curt blow to his muzzle. 

Heinz watched them disappear over the hill, waiting for the other men to leave before he approached the bundle. 

Except it wasn’t a bundle of objects like he first thought. 

It was a child’s body. 

A stiff, lifeless body. 

It was dressed in a tattered, black robe that swallowed its entire body. Its curled fingers reached for something that wasn’t there, its face buried in the dirt shamefully. 

His heart pounded out of his chest, and his brain told him not to look. But his curiosity overtook him. 

Heinz needed to know who this child was. He crouched next to the head so he could get a better look at his face. 

Then a chorus of purrs sounded from the tangled underbrush, and several ocelots surrounded the body. Mama and Papa Ocelot, the two wildcats who’d taken him in after he’d been disowned, were among them. Their heads were down, their ears flattened as they gently shook the body in the vain hopes of waking it up. 

When it didn’t stir, Papa Ocelot threw his head back and bellowed to the sky, Mama Ocelot brushed against him, her tail intertwining with his own. 

The other ocelots had turned the body over, gently pulling it deeper into the woods. 

There was no mistaking that mop of brown hair and the beak-like nose.

It was him. 

The ocelots were dragging his corpse into the forest. 

Heinz desperately tried to rack his memory. He remembered being a lawn gnome on the cold, lonely nights. He remembered the warmth of the ocelot’s fur. He remembered everyone mocking him for not being a man. 

He heard them scold in harsh voices. He saw them maintain a stony silence when he failed to meet their expectations. 

But he didn’t remember dying. 

As an experiment, he tried to touch Mama Ocelot’s fur. But his fingers passed through her, dissipating like mist when they contacted her body. When he withdrew, his fingers reformed.

Mama Ocelot lowered her head, a mournful purr coming from her chest. Her tongue swiped the air several times. 

She was trying to lick him, he realized. 

Papa Ocelot managed to stand at long last. He padded after the others. Mama Ocelot flicked her head, gesturing that he should follow. 

Heinz obeyed. Mama Ocelot trod at a pace that was easy for Heinz to keep up with. The roots didn’t trip him, nor did his feet hurt even though they were walking on rough ground. 

The ocelots gently placed the body (his body) in a small, freshly dug hole next to a flowing stream. Papa Ocelot dropped something into the grave, then stepped back and allowed the others to kick dirt over the hole. 

When Heinz opened his hand, an ocelot’s curved claw laid in his palm.  

[imaginethewitcher]

You know I love fluff but it's time. Time for a bit, a teeeeeeny tiny bit of angst. Dettlaff just has to get one angsty request or else it wouldn't make any sense. SO. I think it should play during the DLC somehow? Maybe. Aaanyway. How about the s/o gets... kidnapped? And Dettlaff and let's say... Triss? are super worried and idk? First how do they react upon finding out about the kidnapping and second finding their s/o. :D Which shape their s/o is in is up to you! I hope this is okay!

First time angst! :DThank you for requesting and doing a mervellous job on editing!

Dettlaff: The party at Orianna’s estatewas well visited. Elegant dresses, exquisite masks, expensive wine, enchantingattractions, visionary painters and poetic bards gifted this most splendidsoiree. You wore a red mask accomplished by golden embellishment, a gift fromDettlaff, together with a lovely invitation. You arrived too early so you satdown by the snacks. From the rich variety of delicacies, you chose a chocolatesoufflé. The warm core of oozing chocolate tasted like the best thing you’veever eaten. While you took the next bite happily, you felt a hand on yourshoulder. In expectation of Dettlaff, you looked over your shoulder, a smilealready forming on your face, only to realize it was a complete stranger. Helooked like every other guest, dressed in silken clothes and an extravagantmask.“Is something to your concern? I’m just a guest here, if you have questionsthen it would probably be better to ask a servant”, you said.“I was looking for someone”, he replied.“I’m sorry, but then you better turn to one of the servants or Lady Orianna. Idon’t think I can help you in that case”, you said slightly annoyed. Youweren’t in the mood for conversation with strangers today.“Actually, I think you can help me very well with my concern”.“Excuse me?”. What was the problem with this guy? Why was he so persistent? Youhoped Dettlaff would be there soon.“I’m looking for someone you seem to know very well”.“And who is that someone, if I may ask?”, you started growing suspicious. Therewas something strange happening.“Are you familiar with a man dressed in a black coat wearing a golden brooch ofan insect?”.It was Dettlaff he was talking about, but what did this person want from him?Dettlaff’s impulsive side might have made him some enemies, however, most of themwere too scared of him to take action, so it mostly stayed by a mere harmlessannoyance.“You must confuse with another person. If you may excuse me, I need to go”,just as you stood up he said something in your direction, something that heshouldn’t be in knowledge of.“His being may deceive most laities, however not everyone. His true appearanceshould better stay hidden, don’t you think? It would be a shame if thisgruesome truth would spread in Toussaint”.“How do you know about this?”, fear started to grow inside of you. The knightswould hunt him and humans would avoid him, seeing nothing more than a beast.“That’s nothing of your interest but if you want him to stay unharmed youshould come with me”.You were hesitating. This was an obvious trap.“What is it you demand from him? Is it money? We don’t have much of it”.“I’ll repeat myself, it’s none of your concern. And now come with me. A soireeis a wonderful occasion to spread the word”.There was no other choice than to follow the stranger. Reluctantly you camewith him to one of the alcoves to wait for Dettlaff.

As Dettlaff showed up to the colourful soiree, the event was already at peak.The melodic music, the scent of various perfumes and flowers and the magicianshowing luminous illusions were admired by many guests. Dettlaff, however, didn’t look out for the different whimsical attractions, butfor his rendezvous this evening.  Knowing you he first went to the tableswith various appetizers, but to his surprise, you weren’t there.‘They wouldn’t be late, they are mostly way too early’, he thought, ‘and Iwould have met them on my way here would they have left the soiree’.He looked around, but couldn’t spot you in the crowd. The mask would have stoodout from the others. Suddenly a servant approached him.“Are you Dettlaff van der Eretein?”, the servant asked.“What if I were?”.“Lady Orianna wants to speak with you. I will bring you to her”.Dettlaff looked up to the large balcony of the estate. Orianna was staring athim with her aloof eyes. There was something wrong, he felt that and had tothink of you. All this seemed odd.“Welcome to my humble establishment. Of all the visitors I expected at such anevent are you the least. Do you enjoy it so far?”, she greeted him in her coldvoice and gave the servant a sign to leave the of two them alone.Dettlaff was never entirely sure what to think of her. He only visited hertwice with Regis but she always had that ominous presence veiling her. Asidefrom her questionable taste in blood.“I don’t have much time for small talk. Why did you call me?”, he saidimpatiently. He wanted to keep looking for you and not waste time with asenseless chatter.“You shouldn’t be too uncouth, especially on such an occasion”, she chuckled,“I know something of your interest”.Now she had his attention.“Your lovely companion seems to be in trouble”.“Did something happen to them?”.“Who knows? It’s one of these spotters of monsters, who are just too motivated.I would have taken care of him myself, but I attract too much attention and itwould be much more romantic when you save your damsel in distress”, she saidwith dramatic gestures.Dettlaff ignored her little play and said through gritted teeth: “I will killthis scoundrel”.“Do what you must, just don’t ruin the evening and the alcove. It’s the secondone on the right side”.

You were waiting now for what felt like hours. The curtain opened.“Finally!”, the stranger said.Dettlaff’s nails grew into sharp talons. He pressed the stranger against thewall with his talons on the man’s throat.“If you hurt them, I will hang you and let you bleed out slowly”, Dettlaffthreatened.“Well, if you kill me everyone will know what a beast you are. I told others tospread the truth should I die this evening”. While his voice still soundeddetermined his eyes said the opposite. Insecurity and fear started to show.“For what? For money? No one will say anything. They are probably already inthe next tavern or town wasting the money”.The stranger gulped, looking at the deadly talons and teeth with despair. Theidiocy of his, previously thought to be glorious, idea became more and moreconscious.“Pl-, Please don’t kill me”.“I’ve heard enough”, Dettlaff replied and swiftly cut the throat. Blood wascoming out of the wound. He turned to you.“Are you alright, my dear? I’m sorry I kept you waiting”.“I’m alright. That guy really seemed ambitioned to receive the glory of aknight, most of which are dead needless to say”.Your words of assurance calmed Dettlaff, “I was worried about you. Most of themare pathetic, some, however, are like merciless monsters”.“Then I’m glad to know, that you will be there to save me”, you smiled, “Let’snot waste the rest of this evening. I still want to dance with you to the musicand enlighten a lamp. They bring luck some say.”

Triss: Today they would do it. Every sorcererwould get imprisoned, killed or worse. You didn’t want any of this. You may notbe a sorcerer, but Triss’ lover - a main target of the fiendish hunt and leaderof the escape. You knew you could be valuable blackmail material and it couldruin the whole plan. She shouldn’t worry that something could happen to you,but you knew her too well as that she would just leave you behind.You were sneaking around the corners of the crooked houses at the Bits. It wasalmost time for your meeting with Triss. The escape plan would soon be broughtto realization.Just as you wanted to creep around the next corner, someone grabbed you frombehind. The person held a tissue soaked with a strange smelling liquid. Youwiggled around and tried to scream, but it was of no use. Suddenly you lostyour sense of sound and seeing. You had to think of Triss and the plan.Everything turned black around you.

Triss pounded her fingertips on the old table in continuous motion. ‘Where arethey? They should be here by now’, she thought.She knew it was dangerous outside, but she also knew your abilities when itcame to sneaking around and not getting caught. That’s one way to survive inthis city after all. Still, she had a weird, almost bad feeling about this.Radovid had patrols in the whole city, while they build the pyres and preparedthe hellish fire. Triss shook her head to chase away these dreadful thoughts.No, she didn’t want to think of this, she didn’t want to think about what wouldhappen to [your name] if you would get caught.Triss waited minute after minute, but no one came. The plan would start soon,she felt insecure without you. She knew it was foul and kept hope you just gotdistracted or needed to take another way. Time was running out, however. Theytold her not to look for you if something would happen, but how could she leaveher most important person behind? She dressed in a brown cloak in order to stayhidden and sneaked out of the house.‘Maybe they are somewhere nearby?’, she asked herself. But there was no one.‘Then maybe in the mages’ hideout. Yes, there they must be’. Everyone else wasthere, but not you.“Did someone see [your name]? I was looking for them the whole time but theywere nowhere to be seen nor met up with me”, she asked in the crowd, hopingsomeone could clear her worried mind.“I saw them”, a voice said. Triss turned around hoping her fears wouldn’t come true, “Where? Where did yousee them?”.“Triss, I’m sorry, but these bastards caught them. They didn’t go to yourhideout, so we should be safe here for now”.“What are we supposed to do now?”, a frightened voice said.Everyone was looking at Triss. Her head generated a million scenarios but whichone was the right one? She couldn’t leave the ones behind who saw in her abeacon of hope, who trusted her. On the other hand, she would lose her beaconof hope. Her legs trembled and on her forehead appeared wet pearls. Whatshouldshe do?“We can’t risk the operation for one person. We will continue as planned”, sheproclaimed. Her voice seemed steady, yet she felt like it was about to break.The mages cheered on their leader. She knew what must be done.“I’m sorry”, she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I will come back to you, please holdon a little longer”.

You woke up in a dark humid room. You were bound to a chair, the tight rope cutin your wrists. You couldn’t see a thing. Where did they bring you? SuddenlyTriss came up in your mind. She should already be in the hideout, at least youhoped so. The escape needed to succeed. What is one life against the lives ofthousands and a victory against the oppressors?You heard heavy footsteps, someone entered the room. You turned your face awayfrom the garish fire of a torch and caught sight of a table next to you full ofcruel instruments.A filthy hand grabbed your face in a rough manner. The man before you wore acoarsely woven mask. You knew these masks from the past when they held executionson the market. The executioners always felt like hollow shells to you, neverlike more. What would happen to you now laid in their hands. They would neverreject an order. This time you wouldn’t be able to talk your way out of this.You wanted to scream but no sound came out of your mouth.“Where are these abominations?”, a rough voice said.You didn’t answer.“Where are they?”, he yelled and slapped you. Your cheek burned.After he realised he wouldn’t get his answer this way, he turned to the abhorrentcollections. You heard a metallic clanking.‘Please don’t act careless, Triss’, you thought to yourself.

“We need to hurry!”, Triss cried to the crowd of mages behind her.They were almost at the harbour with their ship waiting to bring them to a safeplace. The escape proceeded with no complications, but it was still not over.‘They will finally be safe’, Triss thought. She wouldn’t go with them.“There we are. Quickly, go on the ship. There is not much time”, she said.The sails were already set, ready to glide in the water away from the danger.Everyone was on the ship, Triss, however, stayed on the harbour.“What about you?”, someone asked.“I still have something to do here ”, Triss turned around and stretched herhand out in front of her, trying to concentrate her sorcery on finding you. Shefelt a tingling in her hand. She spat out a swear, she knew where you were.Her shape was veiled by prancing lights, letting the silhouette soon fade awayand materialising behind a crude looking figure. The figure turned aroundsurprised by Triss’ emerging from sparks of light. She spotted your unconsciousbody marked with red fresh wounds. A raging fire appeared in Triss’s eyes. Fearappeared in the executioner, his body was shaking.“So we are the monsters and you are the saints”, Triss spoke slowly, “you shallburn”.She cast a storm of fire. The executioner screamed in agony while the hotflames consume his flesh. The humid room turned to a purgatory.The smoke and heat woke you up from your unconsciousness. The flames didn’tscare you, they were familiar to you. The ropes loosened from your burningwrists.“[Your name], are you okay? We will be out of here soon!”, Triss tightlyembraced your body. A feeling of safety awoke in you.“But what about the plan?”, you said in a weak voice.“The plan was a success. Everyone is safe now”.“But you are…”.“We can discuss this later. We need to get away from here first”.Gleaming light wreathed around you, transporting you to the suburban. Triss’firm embrace kept you from falling to the ground. A heavy pain filled yourwhole body, trying to press you down.“I didn’t leave because I couldn’t bear to lose you. If only you could havebeen there sooner, if only…”, you felt a tear dropping on your shoulder.“It’s all right, it’s over now”.You stood there in unison under the shining moon and the glistening stars.

[cheez-ka]

LOVE YOURSELF 轉 Tear 'Singularity' THEORY

*mentally prepares self*

BTS THEORY- after watching it like three times so it doesn't explain _everything_ but-

(IMP NOTE: THIS WAS DONE WITHOUT PROOFREADING VERY LATE IN THE NIGHT)

BASICALLY, Taehyung knew/found out/can feel Jin controlling him (specifically when Jin made sure Taehyung didn't commit murder by sending Hoseok to stay with him) and now he's calling out for Jin, who he knows as some weird force thing making him do things he didn't originally plan on doing, to stop doing that.

random stuff I've noticed: - the room Taehyung is in is the one in the Japanese MV of I NEED U in the exact spot Jin kind of fell apart in - 2:33 SMERALDO FLOWER (remember Jin's tweet) *read more on it here: https://aminoapps.com/c/k-pop/page/blog/the-meaning-of-the-smeraldo/02Ik_uQr53QkR66PnzBRwGmDz45on the smeraldo is a fictional flower- it's literally just a white flower painted blue- but here, and in all the music videos you see a flower in, it's white, the original color. This may mean innocence, with the lack of color, or this may signify (in this video at least) Taehyung's untainted memories (in other words showing that Taehyung realized Jin was controlling him, thus chasing out the blanket Jin put on Taehyung's mind, or the artificial blue dye put on the white flower). (more on this later- just remember it)

*lyric analysis* (crap this'll be long)

"sound of glass breaking/I awake from sleep" Taehyung didn't know that Jin was controlling him to avoid murder until after a while (given as he successfully didn't kill anyone) because of the brainwashing (yeah I'll just call it that) Jin did that put Taehyung in a haze was strong, but that was shattered by Taehyung's stronger feelings of hatred, vengeance and the like.

"a sound full of unfamiliarity" Apparently, Jin had continued to control Taehyung's actions even after the whole murder thing was avoided, something Taehyung never really noticed but now-

"try to cover my ears but can't go to sleep" -he can consciously feel Jin taking over.

"the pain in my throat gets worse/try to cover it/I don't have a voice" Taehyung realizes that he can't do anything that the "sound" (which is Jin) doesn't approve of.

"today I hear that voice again" more mind-control from jin yay

"it''s ringing again, that voice" Jin's apparently strong af because he has the power to control a guy's actions daily while also trying to deal with five other people's problems as well as functioning daily. mulitasking level 1000000000000000

"a crack again on this frozen lake/I dumped myself into the lake/I buried my voice for you/over the winter lake I was thrown/a thick ice has formed/in the dream I shortly went into" bOIIII he didn't pass natural science did he bc he threw himself into the fckin oCEAN or was it a sea

BUT metaphorically speaking this may show that Taehyung willingly let Jin inside his head. Most likely Jin had promised something like "oh all your dreams will come true I'm your fairy jinmother and you're princess cinderatae" and that's why Tae went into a "dream", aka a dream-like state where Jin had complete control over Taehyung.

*OH AND THE ICE IS THE CONTROL JIN HAS OVER TAEHYUNG- this is important for later **the lake is control over Taehyung or the place Taehyung is held captive while Jin's doing his reform work on the boy.

Jin told Tae that all his burdens would be gone if he "jumps into the lake" or hands the controls of his life to him but-

"my agonizing phantom pain is still the same" -despite all his problems seemingly resolved, Taehyung still felt pain. He just felt hurt no matter how much Jin tried to foolproof his whole plan to rid Taehyung of anything murder-related, hence the words "phantom pain". Hatred is too strong an emotion.

"have I lost myself/or have I gained you?" Now Taehyung's wondering if it was better with Jin in control or if it was better when he was on his own. Though it's true that with Jin his life goes a different path away from the blood and killing, that life that goes the better way isn't his own. It's a glass half-full or glass half-empty situation.

"I suddenly run to the lake/there's my face in it" Taehyung slowly starts to realize that he can gain back control of his life.

"please don't say anything/reach my hand out to cover the mouth" He tries to actively stop Jin from controlling him.

"but in the end, spring will come someday/the ice will melt and flow away" It was there he knew that Jin's hold on him will not last forever.

"tell me if my voice isn't real/if I shouldn't have thrown myself away/tell me if even this pain isn't real/what I was supposed to do back then"

*he probably says it in an accusing, pissed off tone

Taehyung remembers the actions he was supposed to take before Jin intervened (murder basically) and questions Jin's right to force his hand. Though his actions were obviously wrong (don't kill people kids) and he could've literally thrown himself/his youth away by being sent to jail, he felt strongly about them; he had the undeniable will to kill his father. That will still hasn't been shaken, in fact, it's been intensified now that he knows the whole truth about what he was supposed to do and what Jin forced him into doing instead.

WITH THE ANALYSIS FINISHED-

The whole scene probably went a little like this:

[in the flowery room with the pool in the middle]

"I had to take over Tae," Jin says, trying to get Taehyung to stop glowering in the corner. His power over the boy is slowly fading, Taehyung's dark, ugly feelings and unshakable will pushing him out. "It was the only way you wouldn't get hurt-"

"Hurt?" Taehyung laughs humourlessly, and turns to face Jin. The boy's eyes seem the same as they've always been since the older one took over, a haunting grey that shows he belongs to Jin.

But flecks of brown creep along the corners of his eyes, a dark, dark brown of his former self.

It scares Jin.

"Hurt?" The boy repeats loudly, scoffing with a cynical grin on his beautiful face. "If you didn't want me to be in pain back then, why are you hurting me now?"

He takes a step towards the one who owns him, the one who's locked him out of his own head and controlled his every action, the voice constantly whispering into his ear that's finally quiet. His crazed smile turns down into a disgusted look.

"Is my voice useless?" He yells and the other flinches. "Am I nothing but your doll to play house with?"

The other tries to open his mouth to say something but nothing comes out; this has never happened before. The flowers usually kept him happy, expelling their sweet aroma and putting him in pretty fantasies that would keep him occupied for weeks on end.

"You keep telling me that these feelings of mine aren't real, that it's just my imagination," he continues, tone increasing in intensity, his deep voice climbing higher, "but why do they hurt so much?"

Jin inches closer, slowly putting an arm around the despairing boy. With a flick of his hand the flowers around them bloom, setting the room in a pale pink haze as Taehyung slowly relaxes his tense muscles, his drawn up eyebrows falling.

"What was I supposed to do with them, if not kill their source?" He asks, softly, eyes fluttering closed.

He falls into the other's arms and they both sink down to the floor, his head on Jin's lap.

"What am I supposed to do..." He whispers before he escapes reality once again.

A tear falls out of his closed eye.

Jin sits there for a while, softly stroking Taehyung's overgrown black hair. It used to be a light brown, neatly cut above his ears, but the darkness has returned. It's taking over him again.

He lays him down on a bed of rose petals on the side and stands up. With a snap of his fingers the room loses its bright, comforting color. The pastel spectrum that painted the flora around the room have turned into all sorts of sickly, rotten colors from asphyxiated purple to dead black. Others simply looked bleached, traces of bright blue or pink showing up on the tips. Without really knowing it, he glares at the room, and the flowers seem to hang their heads in shame with how close they were to the floor. Even the walls, once tiled with lively colors that were easy on the eye, are now just newspaper pages stuck to grey cement and the wide windows that show nothing but the demons outside the room. It's getting harder to maintain everything.

His power is fading.

In the middle of the pool in the middle of the room is a small Smeraldo, just one indistinguishable piece taken off the many growing from the wall, save for one thing; it's not blue anymore.

It's white.

-

yea I write and I theory- I mean theorize

*cue shameless self-advertising*

[ wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/cez_ka ] [ tumblr: https://imnotkhael.tumblr.com/ ] [ youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-tcXpwDQzcESvThpCEN4bA ]

*dead laugh*

ok i’ll go to sleep now mom