#killing myself isn't saying enough. throwing up isn't saying enough. tearing my own throat out with my own claws and teeth isn't saying

[loveofastarvingdog]

i am.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard​

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[crowtrinkets]

A World Knowing You Aren’t in it

Prompt request from @mouselungs​ 

*forehead kiss* ty for that sweet sweet angst 

I wrote this at 1-2 am after watching a sad movie so uh yea I take my angst v seriously lol

Gender Neutral Pronouns for Apprentice, He/They Pronouns for Asra

Word Count: 2,208

I push my way into my shop, unwrapping my scarf from around my face. I take a deep slow breath of the not-so-fresh air mixed with dust and magical goods long since past their expiration. Wearing face coverings, just to go shopping in the market is necessary but I can't help but miss the days I could breathe in the fresh scents of spices and my favorite pumpkin bread without worry of getting sick.

"Asra? I'm back," I call out. I hear thumping traveling from the second floor and down the steps. A cloud of fluffy white hair pokes out from behind a curtain.

"Welcome home," he gives me a warm smile to which I return with my own.

"They were out of potatoes, something about merchants being scared of trade with Vesuvia," I follow them back up the stairs carrying my basket, sparse with groceries.

"I can't say I blame them," Asra mumbles to themself. I only hum in response, not wanting to push this topic further.

Asra has talked about leaving many times, but we had yet to do so, if we had the means we could but, there's no money in magic that can't heal a plague. Placing my basket on the counter of our kitchenette I pull out the food items I bought. Asra snatches an apple and bites into it but then grimaces.

"This apple is soft, like it's been left out," he goes to throw out the apple but I catch his arm.

"Don’t throw it out, if they're too soft I could make a cobbler or something out of them," taking the apple from Asra's hand I place it in a bowl with the other fruit I purchased.

"Oh, but they were out of sugar… maybe they're sweet enough on their own?" I mumble to myself.

"There's no need to go back out just for sugar, I'm sure we'll manage without it," Asra says with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. They grab the lettuce I pulled from the basket out of my hand.

"Why don't I put these away while you go take a bath hmm? Wash the city air off of you," I give Asra a short nod and head off to the bathroom to wash up.

Suddenly feeling the weight of my day, running all the possible errands I can at once, so I am exposed less to the outside. I grab a towel from our tiny linen closet and pass by to give Faust chin scratches.

"Have you been bundled up here all day?" I question. She only responds by slithering closer so she can lean into my scratches. Her movement causes a blanket to fall, revealing a pile of books under it. My curiosity is piqued and I pick one up to read its cover. "Nopal Desert" it reads. I pick a map that was underneath it, depicting the better part of Vesuvia and surrounding territories. Nopal circled in ink. I hear Asra humming while he opens and closes the cabinets in the other room. I elect to bring it up after my bath.

The water is hot, almost too hot for my liking, but its burn soothes me in a way. Making me feel something other than the heavy burden that lays on the whole city's shoulders. I let myself sink down until the water cradles my head. Curling up so my whole body is submerged. I stare at the ceiling, watching the steam from the bath slowly rise, allowing condensation to sit on the wooden beams. I didn't bother to open the window so the bathroom could stay dry. I'll do that afterward. The water cups my ears, muffling the already quiet streets outside. My mind travels back to the books and maps I saw earlier. Was Asra trying to get us to leave? I explained in the past that I can't afford to pay rent on my shop and pay rent in a whole new area. Vesuvia is unsafe but the shop is my home, my lively hood. I can't give it up. I lie there, pondering and contemplating until the water has become lukewarm. My body aches after laying in the tub for far too long. After drying off my body and getting dressed I exit the bathroom, not bothering to stop my hair from dripping all over me. 

I walk towards my bed, finding the books and maps, untouched, and staring at me. I let out a frustrated sigh and collect the items.

I walk into the kitchen to find Asra nursing a cup of tea, and gazing out the window. They haven't noticed me yet. His eyes stare longingly out at the night sky. Sad and distant. I quietly approach and gently place the items on the table. Asra looks up at me in surprise. Neither one of us talks for a while. I clear my throat.

"What are these?" I motion to the map with the large black circle around the words that very obviously do not say Vesuvia. Asra places his cup down and fully faces me.

"Well I thought we could… stay there, I've heard the plague isn't present there and we could go, we could be safe and not have to worry about wearing face coverings just to go shopping," Asra's demeanor becomes meek the more he talks. I let out a sigh and collapse into the nearest chair.

"Asra I told you, I can't afford to keep my shop if I'm not here to work in it,"

"I can help you!" Asra says, straightening a little. "I-I've been painting masks to raise money, and we could go to Nopal for a few months, I could sell masks out there and you can have a makeshift shop in the desert," Asra reaches for my hand, taking it and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. I give him a tired look.

"Asra, it's not that I doubt that you couldn't help me pay, it's just… Vesuvia is my home, our home, and I can't just leave at the drop of a hat like you," Asra winces and pulls away.

"Who knew you thought so little of me," he mumbles. I mentally kick myself for my choice of words.

"I'm sorry that’s not what I meant," I bring my head into my palm and lean my elbow on the table.

"What I'm trying to say is this is my home and I want to protect it so… I've decided I want to study medicine, to help with the plague," I look up to meet Asra's eyes. Their face pales and they sit back in their chair.

"Oh," is all he manages to say. I sit up fully and bring my hands into my lap, wringing them nervously together.

"I could use my magic to help too, and I want to be able to help the people, just like I did when I had people coming by regularly for magical ailments," I try to say something, anything to get Asra to stop looking at me the way he is. Scared, confused, frustrated, maybe even a little mad. He suddenly rises, his chair squeaking along the floor as it's pushed back.

"Asra please," I say barely above a whisper. Asra walks over the kitchenette and paces before turning to me, expression full of pain.

"That… That’s a terrible idea," he says. I suddenly feel taken aback.

"What wanting to help?" I say. Asra's face twists.

"You'll get sick, you'll… You will get hurt, you won't be safe!" he exclaims, starting to pace once again.

"There are people dying Asra I can't just sit around and let it happen! I want to do something, we can do something, we're both magicians!" I rise from my chair so I can fully face Asra as he frantically paces and runs his hands through his hair.

"How are we supposed to survive then, being exposed every day?" Asra looks me in the eye, his expression one of distress.

"Asra we're barely getting by as is," I motion to the bowl of fruit that I was organizing earlier. "The food isn't fresh, we have to go shopping all in one day so we don't risk exposure, and I am barely scraping by with my rent on the shop!" I let out an exasperated huff, folding my arms.

"I told you I would help you, I can sell masks, I can do fortune-telling just not here," Asra enunciates that last word by sharply pointing to the ground to make their point.

"I want to help, Asra… I want to be here," I shift awkwardly in place looking down at my feet. A lump begins to form in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Asra approaches me and places his hands on my forearms in an attempt to soothe me.

"Please, we can't stay here, let's just leave to where it's safe," He pleads, barely above a whisper. I slowly shake my head. Asra leans into me, trying to look into my eyes. His violet eyes, specked with tears in the corners.

"Why don't I help the people here? A-and you can stay home and make money off your painted masks," I say meeting his eyes.

"No, no no no," Asra begins to speak over me. He pulls away and faces his back to me, running his hands across his face.

"Asra I can't force you to stay here but you can't force me to leave," I say making my voice stern, hoping he understands my point. Asra quickly whips around tears falling down his face.

"Then how am I supposed to protect you!" he shouts. My breath hitches and I take a step back, my calves hitting the chair I was previously sitting on. The room grows eerily silent from his out burst.

"You can't protect me from everything, especially not this," I say, my own tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, I can! If you would just listen to me and leave! We could be safe," he approaches me, hands reaching out to me. I put my own hand up, stopping him from getting closer.

"Asra, I've made up my mind about this I'm not going anywhere," my chest aches, I want to leave with him, I want to leave because I'm scared. But I know I can help these people and I can't let my fears stop me.

"Please, you'll die," his voice cracks.

"If it saves the lives of even just a few people, then maybe was worth it,"

"No, you are too important to me!" they plead.

"Asra I have made up my mind! Nothing you can say will change it!" my volume begins to rise. Asra pleads my name and approaches once again gently grabbing my hands.

"Please it will kill you,"

"Asra..." my heart pounds in my chest.

"I can't live in a world knowing you aren't in it!"

"No Asra!" tears form in my eyes and my voice starts to crack.

"You will die-"

"Then death is better than this life we are living!" I shout. I didn't mean to. But I became so overwhelmed my temper flared-up. Asra takes a step back, releasing my hands.

"Is that how you feel," he says. I can't bring myself to answer, the lump in my throat has grown 3 times in size, swallowing my voice. "Very well," Asra turns away from me. Grabbing various clothing items as he goes. He disappears around a corner and I can hear him rummaging. I take in a painful deep breath. Wiping my tears as they fall. Asra comes back in with a bag, shoving items inside angrily, my eyes are too cloudy to fully see what he's doing but I can tell.

He's packing to leave.

"Asra," I croak. "Where are you going?" my voice comes out pathetically, as I try to compose myself. But my heart races in my chest. Asra ignores my question and continues to put items in multiple bags. All his clothes, his trinkets, their books. Anything they can carry.

"Asra please," I drag my feet as I try to follow him, but I can't stop the waterfall of tears escaping me. 

Asra finally stops in the middle of the room, passing me. He has multiple bags on both shoulders. I stand at the hallway entrance and watch him. Faust quickly slithers out from behind me, Asra crouches allowing her to climb up his arm. He takes his hat off the hook and places it on his head. I stumble towards him reaching out.

"Asra I'm… I'm so-" their eyes meet mine, cold, angry, pained. I stop in my tracks

"This is the grave you made yourself, I will not be there to watch you get buried," he says. His voice cracking. Without another word, Asra turns and goes down the stairs and into my shop. 

I can only gawk in silence, in disbelief that he actually left. The wall-shaking slam of the door breaks me from my shock. I grip the fabric of my top, just over my heart. Feeling as though it has broken in two. I sink to the floor and sob, harder than I ever have because a piece of my heart has left me.

[multi--kpop--fanfics]

There’s Blood On The Crown

prince!Xiaojun x queen!reader

genre: angst, horror, royalty!AU

warnings: heavy dark themes (blood, major character death, betrayal)

Part of THE CROWN - a collab call by @earth-to-that-asian​

Word count: ~1.7k 

Author’s note: The fic was beta read by @jaemotel and @intokook , who also made the header (thanxx bby💕). Inspired by the song Intro: Crown by Purple Kiss

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What do you say,

What if I ruled the world?

“Now, you may rise, Your Majesty, Queen Y/N”, the priest announces and you rise from your knees, the diamond crown resting proud but heavy on your head. You walk towards the balcony of the castle and look down, where the rest of the civilians awaited for you. You were their Queen now, the one who would guide them through thick and thin, especially after your beloved husband’s death, the late King Kun. 

“All hail the Queen!”, the crowd chants as you raise your hand and wave, the beaming smile on your face acting as a facade, masking your true feelings - uncertainty, sorrow and most importantly, fear.

Fear, because you trusted no one in the council. They never liked you in the first place, not only because you were the late King’s wife, but because you were also a very skilled fighter, one of your most valuable assets, hence why you were the Grand General of your kingdom before getting married to Kun. 

These weasels hated seeing a woman in power, simply because they wanted that power for themselves. But none of them had the guts to step up and claim the crown. They only knew how to scheme, bribe and conduct murders without ever getting blood on their hands.

There was only one person you could trust, the only one who truly recognized your strength and dedication to the crown - Prince Xiaojun, Kun’s brother and your brother-in-law. He was the only one who welcomed you with a warm smile and would always be respectful towards you. Everyone in the kingdom knew of his gentle nature and the civilians were always delighted to see the two of you take walks through the town. He treated you like family. And family is always there for you, just like Xiaojun today. You turn your head back and smile at him, an equal smile spreading across his handsome face. However, by the time you have turned your head back, his smile is instantly replaced by a clenched jaw and a stern gaze, burning with hatred and jealousy.

Nobody knows

It means nothing to me

Xiaojun enters the throne room, fully-armored, his sword sheathed on his back and his hunting knives strapped on his sides. You were seated in the throne, your white cape falling gracefully around you, the diamond crown and your silver chest armor shining from the sunlight that is creeping through the colored glass windows. Your image is a sheer contrast to Xiaojun’s, his armor being pitch-black, almost resembling an angel of Death.

“Ah, Xiaojun, what a delight to see you!” you state, smiling to him. “I haven’t seen you wear this armor in a long time. May I ask what’s the occasion?” you ask with curiosity. “I have decided to go hunting” he replies nonchalantly and you smile even wider, unaware of the true meaning behind his words. “That’s wonderful! Perhaps I could join you? I’ve been dying to leave the castle gates and get my blood boiling through some action” you slightly pout, albeitly tired from sitting around and letting your armor and sword get rusty. 

He chuckles at your reaction and he unsheathes one of the daggers from his arm and traces his finger along the edge of the blade. “I will not have to leave the castle to go hunting… In fact, my prey is right in this very castle” he states and takes slow yet steady steps towards your direction. “I-I don’t think I follow..” you stutter, fear starting to take over your senses. “What I am trying to say, dear Y/N, is that my true prey is not just within this castle - It’s right in front of me”. The realization then hits you.

It’s invisible but you know it’s mine

So where do you see yourself?

“You want the throne?”, you ask in shock, not wanting to believe that the one person you trusted ever since you stepped your foot in the castle was the one who wanted your fall. “I don’t want just the throne. I want the power that comes along with it”, Xiaojun admits, his ominous gaze fixated on you. The imminent danger awakes you and you yell with all your power towards the throne door.

“GUARDS!” and within seconds, your two strongest guards barge through the throne room, clad in heavy armor. “Prince Xiaojun has attempted murder against the Queen and is hereby guilty of commiting betrayal to the Crown. Seize him at once!” you yell and the guards point their weapons towards Xiaojun, who has seemingly raised his arms in surrender. “The accusations Her Majesty has made against me are completely false!”, he bites back, “Besides, I haven’t attempted murder..”, he adds and silently pulls out another dagger from his sleeve, “..Yet”. 

In a split second, he throws the daggers towards the guards and he hits them both in the blind spot of their armor, their cloth-covered necks, the sharp blades of the dagger cutting through the flesh. The guards are now flat on the marble floor, their lives slowly slipping away from their bodies that lay in blood. After recovering his daggers from the dead bodies, Xiaojun hears the familiar sound of a blade being unsheathed. He turns to you and he sees you holding your sword, your cape discarded on the floor, standing a few meters away from him.

“Finally, the queen has stepped down from her throne!” he spits, his voice dripping venom. "The Queen has a crown and she will do everything to protect it. Even if it means killing the prince", you prepare yourself and get into a fighting stance. "How ironic, to share the same goal at a moment like this", Xiaojun points out and unsheathes the sword from his back, "It's a shame you won't be alive to witness my success".

I am running for the crown

I keep breathing when you drown

You charge at Xiaojun with full speed, your sword in a secure hold. He throws a dagger at you to cut off your advance, but you duck down in the last second and you avoid it, closing the distance between you in the meantime. You fling your sword upwards, in an attempt to cut through his waist armor, but he is fast enough to parry your attack with his own sword. "You're fast, I'll give you that. But not fast enough", he mocks and pulls another dagger from his thigh, landing a deep cut on your forearm, making you cry out in pain.

The blood is staining your pristine blouse, but you don't care - you only want to stay alive in order to defeat Xiaojun. You kick his knee with full force and he groans, falling on his knees. "You know better than underestimating my skills, Xiaojun", you hatefully spit back and get up. You switch your blade to your intact arm and swing it towards his face, but he raises his arm and catches the blade mid-air. "I don't - I'm just reminding you how inferior your skills are compared to mine" he replies and holds the blade still, his fist now bleeding from the sharp edge. "You haven't even landed a proper cut on me, yet your arm is still bleeding from a mere dagger", he continues and stands on his feet, twisting his arm and the blade as well. 

You grit your teeth as you fight back the pain from your own arm being twisted and you lift your leg to kick him in the face, but alas, he's fast enough to swing his sword again and land another cut on you, this time on your leg. You feel the muscle joints being ripped apart and you scream once again, the blood gushing from the fresh wound. Xiaojun takes advantage of your vulnerable state and pulls the sword out of your grasp and throws it at the other side of the throne room. He then kicks you on the chest and you fall flat on your back, the diamond crown falling from your head. You try to stand your ground, but Xiaojun immobilizes you with his own body.

"It's truly a pity, Y/N. We could have been the most powerful and loved royals in the world… But you just had to fall in love with the fool of my late brother, didn't you?", he asks and caresses your cheek, the pretentious affection making you scrunch your face with disgust. "You will never be like Kun, you monster" you grit your teeth with anger, "Do you know why? Because he was always faithful to the people. Because the people are the true crown-" 

You never get to finish your sentence, as a dagger is piercing your throat, ridding you incapable of breathing. The stream of blood starts pooling around your spasming body, staining the marble floor, your clothes and the diamond crown that lays next to your head.

I believe myself no doubt

Xiaojun watches your last moments with a blank expression on his face, still on top of you. "Ironic, isn't it? The King and his Queen, dying by the same hand, clad in the same armor. Truly, the most perfect of tragic endings". You are unable to answer, the last of his words dealing the finishing blow to your form. You have stopped moving and a single tear falls from his face. "Even in death, you are still the most beautiful woman I've seen in my whole life, Y/N" he whispers and leans in to kiss your now lifeless lips. "Worry not, my love, you may meet your beloved husband now. The crown is in good hands".

He stands up and takes the blood-stained crown in his hands. He places it on top of his head, the blood dripping on his soft blonde locks. He slowly walks towards the throne, the edge of his sword scraping the marble floor and creating a line from the blood on it - your blood. He looks at the painting that rests above the throne, a painting of you and King Kun smiling fondly, wearing the same crown that now rests on Xiaojun's head. 

"You know, both of you were wrong. I never betrayed the crown. In fact, I was the only one who did everything to protect it", he speaks as he sits down on the throne, "And I succeeded, my beloved family. All thanks to you. You may now rest in peace", Xiaojun says with a soft smile on his face, making him look like an angel. 

An angel of Death.

My Lord

How come I never lost my faith?

[a-mended-pact]

Unsteady keys: Chapter Eight

A/N: Hey everyone sorry for the wait on this chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts.

Warning: this chapter contains Smut. If you are not 18+ DNI

Word count: 2,320

Request are open

If you wanna be added to the taglist just ask!

I was the first one awake. I tried to go back asleep but the longer I layed there the more my mind filled with images of him and Ethan. I wasn't upset about them having been together.  Quite the opposite actually if anything I just wanted to know Spencer from back then. Was he happier? Did Ethan make him experience a happiness that I wasn't giving him?

This isn't jealousy right? I've never really had this emotion around Spencer before. He's never given me a reason to feel like this. It's a strange thing. 

I glanced down at his hand resting on my stomach. His silver band was shining in the sunlight that was peeking through the curtains. Even though my mind was a wreck, the atmosphere in our room. Our home was calming. I didn't want it to be shattered. Of course I knew that eventually it would. I only hoped just not right now.

I closed my eyes and kept trying to fall back asleep when I felt his arm tighten around me and pull me in. He nuzzled into my neck and started peppering it in kisses. A soft sigh escaped me.

'Good morning love.' His voice was hoarse and extremely dreamy. I knew we wouldn't be able to have our talk about Cat if he sounded like that the whole time. All I'd want to do is jump his bones and show him exactly who he belonged to. 

I rolled over to face him and groaned in small annoyance because of course he looked delectable. 'I can't tell if that was towards me or the thought of being awake with the sun in your eyes too.' While he spoke he was rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

'Oh it most definitely was to you. It's not fair that I'm supposed to be upset and you look like this when waking up. Derek wasn't kidding when he called you pretty boy all the time.'

As I spoke I shoved him on his back completely and straddled him. I watched as he closed his eyes and let out a small moan as my hands purchased on his chest. The longer I sat there feeling him beneath me the more my mind filled with ideas. Pleasant dirty ideas. 

I dug my nails into his chest and scratched him softly. I leaned forward and began kissing his neck, placing wet kisses up and down it until he started squirming beneath me. A moan left his lips as I bit his neck and started sucking. Sure I knew this wasn't a professional thing to do. Especially since everyone would definitely see it. That was the point though. I wanted everyone to see it.

Apparently the ring wasn't enough to show he was mine and I wanted to make sure the point got across this time around. 

His hand wrapped itself in my hair as he held me down to his neck and grinded against me. Making me moan in his ear and him shudder at the sound.

I pulled away and sat up completely on him. 'This wasn't how this morning was supposed to go.' I punctuated each word with a movement of my hips.  I could feel him through my panties. God it was a glorious feeling. 

A small moan escaped him as he rested his hands on my thighs watching me. 'This definitely isn't how I imagined it happening either but I'm not gonna complain. ' He met my motions on his own and I couldn't help but dig my nails into his tummy. 

'I'll only let thi-' before I could finish my sentence he bucked up into me and pulled me down to him by cupping my throat gently. I couldn't do anything but moan and whimper. Life definitely wasn't fair sometimes.

He kissed me hungrily at first until he pulled away and stuck his thumb on my swollen lip. 'Mark me.  That's what you want isn't it? You want to have more of a claim over me than the ring on my hand. You wanna show them that my body is yours just as well as my heart. Do it Y/n. I'm all yours.'

We both rushed off the bed quickly to strip ourselves of our clothes before I shoved him down to the mattress. He laid there with his hands behind his head with a smug smile. 

'I hate that you're right. I thought after we got married I wouldn't have to keep showing people that you're mine. I'd wipe that smile off your face though if I were you or else I'll make sure your breath smells like me when you interrogate Cat later, maybe even when you go talk to Ethan too.'

A small chuckle escaped him as he watched me climb up his body leaving bites and claw marks in my wake. 'Careful darling your possessiveness is showing.' I glared up at him from his belly before biting him there. He winced slightly but still held that blasted smile. 

I was already turned on just by seeing him nude. He always had that effect on me and he knew that. Once I made it up to straddle him again he pulled my head down to his neck. 'Go on sweet girl. I know you want to.' I moaned into his ear as I rubbed my wetness up and down his hard cock. I laced my left hands fingers in his hair as I latched onto his neck. He lifted my hips slightly and aligned himself up with me and made me slowly sink down on him. I gasped and let go of his neck as he bottomed out completely. 'F-fuck!' I sighed into his neck attaching myself to him yet again as I started to ride him. 

He felt amazing inside of me. Stretching me. I had missed this. We'd be so distracted with work and Diana and my mental health it's taken a toll on our sex life. I pulled myself back and rested my hands on his chest for leverage as I started riding him harder and faster.  'God, that's it. ' He moaned, throwing his head back in ecstacy.  

I dragged my nails down his chest to the end of his happy trail making him buck up into me. His hand moved to my waist as he pulled himself up to cup my ass. He started kissing up and down my neck until he made it to my pulse point and bit. A loud moan escaped me as our movements became more violent.  My hands began clawing at his shoulders and back. 

A whine left me as he pulled me into a gentle kiss. His other movements making me thrash on top of him. My legs started shaking and clenching.  He was the only thing keeping them apart.  'You're almost there sweet girl. Just let go.' I continued gasping and whining as his own thrust became a bit irregular.  My eyes brimmed with tears when he began covering my neck in kisses and bites. My hands caught into his hair as I held him there.

'I- I don't wanna. Not yet.' I was so breathless I wasn't sure if he heard me. He smacked my ass making me let out another moan. A few tears escaped my eyes as I fought against my own orgasm. I didn't want right now to end because the moment it does we will have to actually confront the storm around us. I wasn't ready for that.  

He cupped my face and caressed his thumb along my cheekbone.  'I'm yours. Only yours. All yours.' His thrust became sloppy as he kept kissing me each time he pulled back to speak and our lips were still touching. Caressing. I whined again and clung to him harder. I felt his other hand move between us. The moment his fingers touched my clit I felt myself come undone. He let me ride out my orgasm as he continued to thrust until he came too.

'I love you Mrs Reid. ' He said right before he tossed me off of him so he could get off the bed.  I could feel his cum leaking out of me and I could do nothing but shudder. I was going to yell at him for what he did until he grabbed me by my ankles and jerked me to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs wide. Before I could ask what he was doing his face was buried between my legs and he had me pinned in place by his strong arms and hands. 

'Oh! My god Spencer!' My hands immediately went into his hair as I squirmed from overstimulation. I was gonna cum within seconds. I'm sure he could tell too. It was always so easy drawing orgasms from me when he used his tongue.  

He pulled back and looked up at me, his face glistening with my essence. He kissed my thigh and smiled at me. 'Sweetheart you shouldn't threaten me with something I would enjoy and then not do it.' He buried his face back into my heat bringing me closer to orgasm with each stroke of his tongue.  

'There you go. Cum in my mouth darling. I'll be sure to talk to Cat and Ethan when we go into work first thing. ' I began shaking again as I grinded on his tongue.  With a couple of more licks I was a goner.  I climaxed into his mouth and he ate it up eagerly.  

'I'd say you thoroughly marked me my love. '

______________________________

By the time we made it into work we were late. I had no regrets though. I could see her smiling at me the whole way Into the building. Obviously admiring her work. She was giddy and to be honest I didn't blame her because I was too. Even if my neck was killing me. Y/N really did a number on me. I was certain I'd get looks had I let anyone see me before I strolled into the interrogation room. This was going to be fun. I could still smell her on my skin and on my breath. I had brought my go bag up so I could clean myself off properly after. As much as I loved having her state her claim on me like this. It wasn't work appropriate nor was it polite to the rest of the team.

I had no idea whether or not my wife followed me here or not. Honestly I didn't really care if she did. This would happen whether she were watching or not regardless. I had let Cat get to close for comfort in more ways than one. 

I sat down in the hard chair across from her and watched as she took in my new markings. Her face contoured from amusement to hatred back to amusement.  'Oh, Spencie looks like you've been a naughty boy. Are you trying to tempt me into ruining you too?' She went to reach up to touch me when the cuffs pulled her back into place. 

'I'm married Cat. Nothing I do with my wife is any of your concern. However what is my concern is where Lindsey is. Why don't you give me a little hint?' My voice came out monotone. I really just wasn't in the mood for today. I much rather be surrounded by someone that wasn't such a pain in my ass. 

She clicked her tongue at me as she let out a laugh. 'What like I'd just give you the answers? Please.' She scoffed. Her eyes never left my neck and I couldn't help but fight a smug smile as her emotions started getting the better of her.

I stayed silent as she thought of what to say next.  'Why don't we play a game first?' She smiled at me, her teeth showing. 'I think it would be more fun.' It was like she was reminding me she was still in control and that made me nauseous. 

'If I guess right to my own assumption I'm gonna need you to tell me what I want to know but if I guess wrong I'll tell you everything I know about Lindsey.' The smile never left her face. Someone like her shouldn't be able to get under my skin.  She was a killer and here I was thinking of how attractive her mind was as if she hadn't killed about 200 people. 

'I'm not playing your games Catherine.  If I heard right you and I aren't playing anymore. It's you and the misses.' I smiled as I got close to her making sure I blew my breath into her face. Her eyes widened as she Jerked herself away from me like I had burned her.

'You're a bastard spencie.' She looked away from me and down at her hands. If I didn't know any better I would say she's trying not to cry.

'What's the matter? You are showing signs of jealousy. Do you wish it was you that did this to me? I leaned away showing off my neck a little as I stretched.  'You love the idea of getting your claws into innocent men especially when they aren't expecting it.' A smile formed on my features as I watched her struggle to make eye contact with me. 

'Well I'm expecting it. I was from the moment we knew you were involved in this case. You are trying to taint me and Mark me as yours.' I pointed to my head and I watched as her eyes followed my hand movement. 'Luckily for me I've already got someone's claws into me and I wouldn't have it any other way.'

I got up to leave when I turned and looked at her

 'Have fun with the other Agent Reid, Miss adams.' I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as I closed the door behind me.

Taglist

@sassymoon @rainsong01 @onlyhereforthefanfics @itsdars @dreatine

[amethystpath-writes]

Revenge of The Two Weeks (3)- that's right. We named it, folks.

Continuation of this original story.

Continued directly from here!

@tears-and-lilies @whatwhumpcomments

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Heed the tags.

******

The flaps of Hero's tent flapped in the wind, distracting him slightly from the task at hand. The commander was testing his strategy; he was testing all of the mens' strategy, trying to figure out who might gain his own title when he retired- if he ever retired.

Hero picked the tip of his finger up off of the map, replacing it with another finger on his other hand while he moved his first to the right side of the parchment. The commander was wanting to expand to the eastern part of the lands. Problem was the number of geological obstacles: craters, hills, ponds, and mushy swamp-like areas galore.

Sighing, Hero threw his head back. It seemed impossible. He eyed the blue flag closest to his right finger, picked it up, and threw it over the shoulder. There, he thought, Get rid of the bloody pond. If only it worked that way.

There were three blue flags, all within several hundred meters- realistically speaking- of one another. Very little room for our legions. Hero debated whether or not to fight on horseback. As great and obedient as the horses were, they were large and clumsy in close proximity. With little space, there was too much room for error. So no horses. That fixes that problem.

One yellow flag. The marshes. A big ole stretch of hard-to-walk-through mush, at least for a human. So yes to the horses. Or no? God, I don't know. The swampish lands would result in more army and artillery men's deaths than if a few horses fell into the ponds. Keep the horses. And that would allow for the use of their bows, which would presumably be an advantage.

The horses will require resting breaks. What would happen if they exhausted a bunch of them? Men would have to walk, which would exhaust them. That was better than all of the men exhausting themselves at least.

Hero bounced a fist off the table. This was so frustrating. He thought, now, maybe he wasn't cut out to serve under the commander's- and certainly not the king's- name. But he had to. Because fighting was all Hero could do. He wasn't good at anything else, but if he failed in this test of strategy, he was done for. He'd be demoted, become one of those scavengers of the army who were responsible for picking up dismembered body parts and burning them. How disgusting. How lowly. How vile.

"You kept the dagger."

Hero gritted his teeth together, jaw askew. He didn't need to turn to know who that was. "Yeah? It's my dagger. Just because you stole it from me then gave it back doesn't mean it hasn't always been mine. Of course I kept it."

The tent flaps were quiet, Hero realized. Villain must have been holding them still. It was with this information that he began reaching for his dagger, saying as a distraction of sorts, "Do you remember Grandad?"

Villain laughed. "Don't try to settle me with your old stories. I don't care about them anymore."

"You used to." Hero swallowed, adjusting the handle of his dagger until it felt just right.

Spiders crawled up his spine to the base of his skull. He spun, dagger held with the blade outward. This hadn't been his plan. First, Hero's plan had been to launch the dagger at the wooden tent post, just close enough to scare Villain. But now he was in front of him.

"Cute," his younger brother commented, and pushed Hero's wielding hand aside. "But I have my own." He hummed. "You give into me so easily. You ought not to, for your own sake. To me it's fascinating, but who knows when I might actually decide to slit your throat?" It was with this that Villain brought his own dagger to Hero's neck. "And what would you ever do to stop me? You already had the chance to both throw a blade at me and stab me with it. You've done neither."

Hero rolled his eyes. Villain was shorter than him which only aided in the harshness of the sharp dagger on his neck. His brother was pushing up at a cruel angel, one that Hero had to avoid swallowing against.

"What do you want me to tell you? You're right, okay? You're right. I have guilt and I hoped that I'd never see you again because of it. But you're alive." He took a breath. "It's up to you what you do with your life from here. You can chase me around crazily as you have been, thus driving me to continue ignoring you every chance I get. Or," Hero ventured, "we can work on reestablishing what lost relationship we had."

The knife cut in. Hero squeezed his eyes shut, let his nostrils flare. A warm trickle slid down his neck into his uniform. "You might not want to maim a trusted person of the Guard and Commander."

"Oh, I don't think that matters much." Villain cocked his head to the side, peering at the map left on the table behind Hero. "If anything, I'd replace you. The Commander likes tough boys, isn't that still right?" He sighed. "I know I overstayed my two weeks in the woods, but well..." Villain laughed. "After a wolf tore my friend and a six year old child apart before eating them, the woods actually welcomed me. I'd tell you where I stayed, but I promised the boys I wouldn't compromise them."

Hero's breath caught. "Some of them still live in the woods?" He tried to pull back, away from the blade, but Villain pushed it forward as Hero pulled back.

With a shrug, Hero's younger brother- who had been gone, presumably dead, for five years said, "Sure. Not all of them felt like returning to a place that couldn't accept them as they were. They found new families, ones that fought to keep them alive. They became brothers to one another."

"How poetic." Hero scoffed. "They should be brought back. They're not safe out in the woods."

The dagger slashed through the air, away from Hero's neck, but not straying at all from his shoulder. Hero hollered out, but Villain clamped a hand over his mouth before anyone else could hear. Not that it mattered. Like Villain said before, the worst that could happen was Hero lost his position, which Villain certainly didn't mind. Still, he wanted to torture his older brother this way for a little longer before he did anything too drastic.

"Funny," Villain spat, stance like a cobra ready to strike. "You didn't say that when you led us all to the woods before. Do you know how old the youngest was?" His voice was venom.

"Six."

"No, that's just the one who died. My friend who was also killed by the wolf was sixteen- just to give you a little perspective."

"Five, then."

"Three or four." Villain explained, "He didn't even know his own age." And then he turned to blame, "You left him in the woods. You took him away from his family, and you are the reason he's going to grow up always overexerting himself to please others, only to feel like he's never enough."

Villain bit his tongue to stop himself, but then said it anyways. "I'll be surprised if he doesn't kill himself in three or more years. He feels like a disappointment to himself, Hero, because a man he was supposed to look up to told him he wasn't enough and then sent him off into the woods- where he watched every horrific image you can think up happen."

"I don't know what you want from me!" Hero roared, and this time he finally did move to fully strike a blow on his brother. He shoved his shoulders hard enough that Villain nearly fell on his bottom.

Lucky for Villain, he was able to balance himself out before that could happen.

"I'm sorry, alright! I'm sorry that I failed the four or five of you-"

"Seven of us."

"-and that I was too cowardice to see for myself if you lived or died. I'm sorry. But I can't do anything to fix it except offer myself to you now. So that's what I'm doing, Villain. I'll be a better brother this time around. If you're looking for something, some sort of closure though...you're not going to find it another way. Because no matter how much you torture me, you'll never be satisfied knowing that I left you. That I created memory after memory with you just to leave you to packs of vicious wolves and hungry, lonesome bears.

"I fucked up, Villain, I know I did. But I can't fix it now. I was- and am still- just as scared as you were in those woods. Different scenario, but same, same hot-coaled fear. I'm sorry I wasn't as brave as I made myself sound. I wanted to be a role model to you, but I- I don't know, brother." Hero sat on a cot in the tent, put his head in his hands for a moment before looking up again.

"The Commander is a daunting man and I found myself cowering. You haven't seen him, Villain, haven't endured the training he puts us through, or the screaming he does- like we're prisoners of an enemy kingdom and not soldiers of his own. I'm not making excuses for myself; I know I was wrong. I know what I did is unforgivable, but I'm begging you, brother, please-" Hero kneeled, throwing his knees to the floor, tilted his head to the ground with eyes closed "-please try to understand."

A hand landed on Hero's soldier, but he kept his head down. He wished he would have opened them before, for a new pain bloomed in his shoulder. His mouth became gaped and he choked on the feeling, especially as it spread.

Villain twisted the dagger with a sick satisfaction. "I'll understand when you walk yourself into the woods for two weeks."

Twist. A sharp gasp. Ragged breathing.

"When you hear the deep growl of a wolf- deeper and more impactful than thunder."

Another twist. A pained holler and cry.

"When you watch the person who did everything they could to make you feel at home dies as he's immobilized by razor teeth in their leg. And when the teeth finally rip into the throat of a boy who doesn't want to die after minutes of fighting."

A plunge of the dagger. A wordless scream. A limp body- still breathing, but in so much pain that it can't even think of moving- against Villain's leg.

"When you wake up with your own bloodied fists and two piles of bones and drawn out, tattered rags beneath you- because you slept on a branch in a tree to avoid getting eaten yourself. When you spill every ounce of fluid in your body out into a creek because you're so traumatized. When you suffer the way I did...when you spend just the first week in the woods like I did, maybe then I'll try to understand."

As a finish, Villain yanked his dagger from his brother's shoulder and said, "You don't get to keep this one." He wiped the blood off on his pant-leg and walked out.

******

@badthingshappenbingo

Original Work

Knife to the Throat

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Nine

Words: 4.1k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse

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I've never seen Nikki like this. I've rarely seen him cry, I've never seen him cry sober, and I've never even known it was possible for him to let himself cry like this. 

He's sobbing an excruciatingly painful cry, head between his knees, hands in his hair. 

Is this how he felt when I was locked in the bathroom for hours, screaming and crying and wailing out sorrow after learning about him and Vanity? Helpless and shitty, knowing he'd go back and change what he did if he could but knowing that telling me that wouldn't make me feel any better? 

I don't say anything. Amber doesn't say anything. We both just let him get it all out.

Minutes later, when he starts trying to calm down, he slowly wipes his eyes and glances up at me, before he starts up again, shaking his head, hanging his head low once again. 

"Vivian," Amber says softly over him and I look at her. "Go to him." She mouths, motioning to him and I raise my brows. 

Has she lost her fucking mind? He's probably pissed and distraught enough to choke me out, right now. He probably hates me, and I don't blame him. 

"Go." She mouths, sternly, waving her hand in his direction and I take a heavy breath and slowly get out of my seat and very carefully step to him.

"Nikki," I say weakly, getting on my knees,  my shaking hand rubbing his shoulder. 

He wraps his arms around me, tight, pulling me to him, burying his face into my shoulder. 

"I'm sorry." He tells me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, squeezing him. 

"It's not your fault, Nikki, it's not your fault." I assure him, holding back my own tears. 

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry, Vivian."  He argues through his tears. 

We just hold each other, and when he calms down a little bit, Amber calmly says, "Nikki, why are you so upset over this?" 

She knows why, she just wants him to confirm. 

He pulls away from me and sniffles and I wipe his stray tears with my thumbs before reaching to her desk where she's holding out her box of tissues for me to grab. 

"Because I know it's my fault." 

"Why do you think it's your fault?"

"Because I had an affair, first, and she went to him because she was really hurt." He shakily lets out, trying to bring himself back down from his hysteria. 

"Nikki, look at your wife." Amber says to him and he looks me in the eyes, obviously struggling not to look away. "Repeat after me, alright?" 

He nods. 

"Vivian, I'm sorry." She starts and more tears topple from his eyes. 

"Vivian, I'm--" He takes a breath. "I'm sorry." 

"That I made you feel," 

"That I made you feel," 

"Like you had no other choice," 

"Like you had no other choice,"

"But to go have sex with someone else,"

"But to go have sex with someone else,"

"Despite it being no fault of my own," 

"Despite it being…" He closes his eyes and sighs, as if trying to make this part engrain into his mind, "...no fault of my own," 

"Despite you being in charge of your body and what you do with it," 

"Despite you being in charge of your body and what you do with it," 

"I am so sorry."

"I am so sorry." 

"Please, forgive me."

"Please, forgive me." 

"Now, Vivian." Amber says to me, next, and I sniffle, looking at her. "Look at your husband." 

I look at him and rub my lips together, nervously. 

"Repeat after me." She adds and I nod. "Nikki, I'm sorry." 

"Nikki, I'm sorry." 

"That I made an irrational decision," 

"That I made an irrational decision,"

"After years of hiding hurt and pain and heartbreak because of your irrational decisions,"

"After years of hiding hurt and pain and heartbreak because of your irrational decisions," 

"But this is not your fault," 

"But this is not your fault," 

"I no longer want to blame my mistakes on others,"

"I no longer want to blame my mistakes on others," 

"You did not force me to get in bed with someone else," 

"You did not force me to get in bed with someone else," 

"You just made me feel like I didn't have a choice,"

"You just made me feel like I didn't have a choice,"

"Because the pain of learning of your affair,"

"Because the pain of learning of your affair," 

"Put an irrational thought and sought out decision in my mind and I could not help myself enough to extinguish it."

"Put an irrational thought and sought out decision in my mind and I could not help myself enough to extinguish it."

"Please, forgive me."

"Please, forgive me." 

"Okay," Amber nods, her voice soothing, "Nikki, what it is that you need to tell Vivian before you two continue to work on this relationship." 

It's clear that this is something he's already discussed with her, and I wait patiently as he exhales, very, very, heavily. 

I can't imagine what it looked like from outside the door of Amber's office. If a passerby happened to peek in the small little window of the door…

"Roxy, Vanity, Donna…" I shakily state. 

I'm not in a ball, pleading with God to kill me like I was when I first found out he had dared to see another woman, but now that I know better…

"...And some others." His tears are dry now, as if he's mustering up all of his macho manliness to brace for impact when I start trying to hit him. 

"Some others?" I clench my jaw, my nails digging into his jeans where they're resting over his kneecaps and he rubs his face. 

"A few others." He says next, avoiding a definite number. 

"How many is a 'few'?" I grit out and he looks at Amber. 

"Tell her." She encourages him, sternly. 

"Nikki," 

He lets out a breath and he clears his throat. 

"If a 'few' were to have a number, about how many would it be that you've had some exchange that would be considered cheating in your wife's mind, from the time you got married to now." Amber adds. 

"Around two-hundred." He admits. 

I think he's kidding at first, over exaggerating or being sarcastic because I can't fathom sleeping with two hundred people in four years while in a supposed committed relationship. 

"You're full of shit." I let out a terrified chuckle and he closes his eyes for a second. "Seriously, Nikki, what's the number?" 

"Why does it matter? You're staying with him after one, aren't you?" Amber asks and I look at her. 

"Maybe a little more than that, maybe a little less, I didn't try to keep count." He mumbles.

"Y-You've slept with…you…" I feel a prickling, scalding heat all over my skin. 

I get myself away from him to try to calm myself down, but I can't. 

It's like putting baking soda and vinegar together. 

"Nikki, why did you do that?" Is all I can get out that isn't about how much I hate him right now. 

"The same reason you went to him. Because I felt like I didn't have any other option and I was desperate." 

"Desperate for what?!" I demand, enraged, now. 

"Vivian," Amber starts but I completely cut her short. 

"I went to Duff because I had spent years in a marriage with a junkie that did everything he could to choose drugs over me and throw me to the fucking wolves!" 

"And I spent years in a marriage to an ungrateful bitch that I couldn't ever make happy!" He snaps next, standing up. 

"I would've been plenty happy had you sobered the fuck up!" 

"You'd lay in bed for weeks at a time and refuse to take your fucking medication and then wouldn't even let me try to touch you, Vivian, and God fucking knows the times you'd actually let me try to get it in, you'd lay there like sex with me was the most boring chore in the fucking world! And the times you weren't like that, you'd still manage to watch me break my back to make you happy and then spit in my fucking face and act like it wasn't ever gonna be enough, that I wasn't ever gonna be a enough!" 

"I was depressed, Nikki!"

"Trust me, I know, I fucking know!" He shouts back. 

An ear piercing screech makes us both shut up and wince, and I see Amber holding an airhorn. 

"I don't yell." She states, a brow raised as she looks at us. "Sit down. Both of you." She orders next and we both slowly sit down, taking deep breaths. "No wonder you're in such bad shape--neither of you know how to talk to each other. You just talk at each other and start yelling when the other person gets defensive over you talking at them." She snaps, shaking her head a little. "And quit cursing at each other. That's another reason you're in this mess. You're both bitter and poisonous and contaminating each other." She adds, sternly, and we slink down in our chairs. "Vivian, he has shot you, he has strangled you, publicly humiliated you, he has chosen everything under the sun over you, but you draw the line at the fact he's had sex with two-hundred other women?" 

I don't say a word. 

"Why is that the thing that's going to break the camel's back? When you come in here pregnant with another man's baby and got him on his knees crying and telling you it's his fault?" She goes in on me. "Go from crying and boohooing together to calling each other awful names and cursing and 'eff this' and 'eff that' and 'eff you'--can I tell you something? You can't stand each other now but once upon a time you must've really liked whatever it is that drives you crazy about the other person because you chose each other and married each other." She reminds us. "And I know it isn't just the drugs that cause fights because he's completely sober today and you're jumping on him for being honest with you when there's been times he has lied through his teeth to hell and back to you." She looks at me. "And you," she looks at Nikki. "I better not hear you ever call your wife a 'bitch' again. She's not a dog, even though you love to talk to her like she is one."

Again, we're both quiet.

"Vivian, how do you feel about Nikki admitting to you that he's been unfaithful?" She asks. 

"You can't tell how I feel?" I smartly ask. 

"Screaming and cursing isn't explaining how you feel. I don't specialize in translating foolishness--I specialize in helping people heal through positive communication--not verbal abuse." She replies. "Now, how do you feel about what your husband shared with you?" 

"I'm mad." 

"Why?" 

"Because…" I feel tears come to my eyes. 

"Because why?" 

I sniffle. 

"You two talk to each other like you've never had to walk through something and communicate peacefully and calmly about a situation." She says next, handing me a tissue. 

"We haven't, really." Nikki admits while I'm occupied with trying to stop my crying. 

"You've been together for six years, nearly seven, and you've never talked through a disagreement or bump in the road?" 

We both just avoid looking at her. 

"You just yell and scream until one of you finally gives up in the argument and drops it completely?" She asks next. 

"Basically." He says.

"Sex." I add, wiping my nose. "We usually just sleep together and then we're over whatever it is we were fighting about." I explain and she raises her brows.

"I promise you, none of it's been taken care of or gotten over. Anything you've fought about in the past that you tried to fix with sex has all been pent up and built up over the years and has been coming out within the last year, especially, in some form of abuse or neglect to the other person." She informs us. "And that's why you're so angry." She tells me. "Because that is a potent form of intimacy that you have on a pedestal and it's important to you. And while you've been using it over the years as a means to make things right with him, and to try to be intimate with him and reconnect with him while he's been closed off on drugs and not himself, he's been going out and giving it away to whoever." 

I nod because it's true and she nods with me. 

"I know why he went to so many other women and we'll get to that in a moment, why did you start your relationship with the now father of your child?" She asks me calmly.

"Because I was tired." I admit, my tears finally subsiding. "And I was hurt, and I just needed to be with someone who wouldn't hurt me."

"You needed someone who would protect you." 

"Yes." I agree, sniffling. 

"There's a theme that keeps reoccurring with you and it's overexposure and need of protection," She tells me and I nod, "Which is typically what fathers are in charge of in the household so tell me what your dad was like while you were growing up." She says and I lick my lips, smiling, thinking of my dad. 

"The best dad in the world. He'd help me get ready for recitals if my mom couldn't, he'd take me anywhere I needed to go, he'd help me sneak things past my mom like records or clothes she wouldn't approve of or whatever, he'd be there if I needed to talk about anything--with no judgement--he was really good to me, and he still is." I tell her and she nods, smiling. 

"What I'm about to say isn't meant to belittle all the wonderful things he's done for you or undermine the work he's put in to raising you the best he could, but with your incredibly abrasive mother," she starts, "would he ever step in when she was tearing you down or would he just try to keep the peace?" 

"He did a couple times but for the most part he'd just tell me to ignore her and wouldn't start anything with her while she was doing it." 

"So he didn't protect you when he should have?" 

I stop for a moment, and look at her, pointedly. 

"I'm not saying he didn't love you or care for you and didn't look out for you--but when it came to your mother, did he or did he not do everything he could to protect you from her mental, spiritual, and emotional abuse?" 

"No." I breathe out shakily. 

"So you went from a father who didn't protect you and allowed you to be exposed to things you should not have been exposed to, to a husband who didn't protect you and allowed you to be exposed to things you should not have been exposed to." 

I nod again. 

"Do you know why he's had sex with so many women?" 

I shake my head. 

I don't think, "because he hates me," would be an acceptable answer. 

"Do you know why you've had sex with that many women while you were with Vivian?" She asks Nikki and he thinks about it for a second. 

"...I was bored." He says and she chuckles humorlessly. 

"Just a second ago you were throwing in her face that you went where you were going to feel appreciated. So put your ego aside." She states, furrowing her brows. "'I did the drugs because I was bored, I slept with all those women because I was bored, I put my wife through a living hell because I was bored'." She mimics so he can see how he sounds when he says it. "I don't think the man sitting here, crying over his wife getting pregnant with another man, had sex with one other woman, let alone two-hundred just because he was bored." She states, matter of fact. "Put this tough guy persona away and just be honest." 

He gets really quiet, his leg shaking as his foot taps. 

"Do you know the situation with his mother?" She asks me, suddenly. 

"I know the gist of it, he hasn't told me much about it." I tell her and she looks at him. 

"You expect your wife to understand why you do the things you do but you don't give her the information to piece together why you are the way you were brought up to be." She tells him. "We're out of time, but at some point before we meet again on Saturday, I want you to talk about your relationship with your mother." She says and he nods, hesitantly.

I look at him and can't bring myself to even say goodbye to him before I'm getting up and leaving. 

I can barely make it to my car without nearly tripping, tears clouding my vision. 

I get inside and hold my chest, feeling as if my heart is breaking all over again. 

Neither of us know each other anymore. I don't recognize him, not even sober, and I know he doesn't recognize me. 

Is this even worth it after all we've done to each other?

I wrinkle my nose slightly as I put my big toe up the bathtub's water faucet, expecting a big spider or something to bite me. 

Dropping my foot back into the water, I let out a breath. 

I've been sitting in luke warm water that was hot once upon a time. 

Now my skin's pruned and I'm waiting to get the motivation to just get up. 

It's the first attempt at self-care in two days and it's only because Nikki's been wanting to fool around and I haven't felt like it. 

I'm hoping being clean helps me feel like it. 

There's two knocks at the bathroom door before he's barging in, giving me a smile that brings his dimples to life. 

"I have food in the kitchen whenever you get out." He tells me, stepping to the tub, sitting on the edge of it. 

"I'll be there in a little bit." I assure him. 

"That's what you said an hour ago, Vivian." He reminds me harmlessly and I look at him and force myself to smile a tad. 

"Oh." I reply. 

There's a pause between us and he rubs the back of his neck. 

"Vivian, are you okay?" He asks, and I look up at him, forcing myself not to cry, and nod. 

"I'm fine, baby," I lie. "Just tired is all." 

"Still? You've been in bed for, like, nearly three days." He points out. 

"I'm just tired, Nikki." I repeat in the same tone, trying to sound convincing. 

He's not buying it, and when drops of tears push past my lashes, I know I'm no longer selling it. 

"I think maybe you need to get back on your medication." He suggests very quietly, as if saying it too loud is going to cause me to have a meltdown. 

"I don't need to be on it." I argue, wiping my eyes, sniffling and trying to force myself to stop crying.

"Vivian, you're not fucking happy."

"You don't know that." 

"I know when you're happy and when you're not." He points out…"Do I need to get you something or buy something or--"

"--I don't want anything, Nikki." I state.

"Well, I do." He informs me. "I wanna see my wife happy, again, genuinely happy. Not that fake bullshit you put on for me." He clarifies. "So, just--"

"--Get out." I say, shutting him down, not wanting to hear about it. 

He rolls his jaw and nods, getting up and leaving. 

He's back with a glass of water and my bottle of Nardil, putting them both on the side of the tub and standing over me to make sure I take it like he wants me to. 

I look at him, hurt, my brows furrowing, my eyes cutting at him, anger coursing through me as more tears topple down my cheeks and tense up.

"Get out." I repeat. 

"I'm not leaving until you stop being stubborn and take the damn--"

The water is slung at him while the glass is thrown at the mirror as, "get out!" Screeches out of my throat as I open the bottle and try to ring it in the toilet, sending pills flying in all directions while the bottle with a majority of the pills plops into the water all while I'm repeatedly screeching, "get out, get out, get out!" as tears sting my cheeks. 

"Vivian, fuck--" 

I'm hauling myself out of the tub and he avoids my violent intent by finally leaving, slamming the door behind him, and I slip and catch myself on the door knob, making sure to lock it as waves of weight push me to the floor, my chest hurting, my body aching, my spirit crying out to God for mercy.

I should have told him then about my recurrent miscarriages, I just didn't know how to. I just let myself take it and deal with it on my own and he took it as me being batshit crazy and depressed. I was, truthfully, but I had reason to be. I struggled with my medication because I didn't want to have to take a pill to be happy, but I was also beginning to think it was ruining my body and skewering each pregnancy. It wasn't, but I didn't know that, so I'd take it for a while, wean myself off, and ease back into it whenever I felt like I needed to through the years. I don't think I ever went a full complete year without purposely getting myself off of it at least once.

I shut my car door as I get out, raising my brow at the site of Duff's car in my driveway, stepping to the front door. 

I haven't heard anything from him. 

Which I've been prepared not to. I can play the kid off as Nikki's if I have to.

He didn't say anything yesterday when I told him I was pregnant. I mean, literally, nothing. 

I sat for twenty minutes just waiting for him to try to discuss it but all he did was sit and stare off into space, his face ghost white while Mandy excused herself to their room and probably cried the rest of the night. 

I guess he's got something to say, now. 

I go inside, putting my kids on the little table next to the door, kicking my heels off and carrying them in my hand. 

I turn the light on when I get out of the foyer, and see Duff passed out on the couch. 

He's got a vodka bottle tucked under his arm and put my stuff down and go over to him, taking the bottle away before he spills it on the couch. 

He takes in a breath, waking up and rubbing his eyes. 

"Hey, Viv," he tells me, sitting up the best he can, trying to pry the sleep from his eyes. 

I sit on the coffee table across from him, sighing out. 

"Hey, Duff," I reply, looking at him.

"What time is it?" He asks me, next. 

"Four o'clock." I inform him. 

"Oh," he mumbles, being quiet for another moment. "You look pretty." He says next and I smile a little. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Which I guess that's what got us into this mess in the first place." He adds. "Well, not you being pretty--just me being a dumbass." He slurs, taking a deep breath. 

"Is Mandy okay?"

"Yeaaaah, she's not too happy with me right now." He admits. "I never told her about me and you when we got back together." 

"Oh." I say. 

"Oh." He repeats. 

"You know, Duff, you don't have to do all this…" I start, rubbing my lips together. "...If you're not comfortable with trying to make this work--because it's pretty unconventional--I'm not gonna be upset with you." 

"I had a shitty dad who left my mom to deal with bullshit she shouldn't have had to deal with by herself and I'm not doing that to you. That's fucked up. I did the crime, I can do the time." He states, tiredly. 

"I'm not gonna be by myself," I remind him, "Nikki's upset but he's not disowning me or anything." I add and he scoffs. 

"Of course he isn't." He sighs. "I think Mandy's still gonna stay with me. She hasn't thrown out her ring, so…" 

"Her ring?" I ask him, furrowing my brows. 

"I asked her to marry me yesterday morning." He informs me. 

"Oh, wow, tha-that's great, Duff." 

Was it completely stupid for him to propose to Mandy not even seven weeks after we broke up? Absolutely. Was it completely stupid of him to marry her three months later? Absolutely. Was I going to piss on his parade more than I already had? Absolutely not.

[yn-dere]

La sorcière • Y!K.TH

Synopsis: The goddess Ashtoreth seemed to have found her worshipper.

Ship/s: Photographer!Taehyung x Antagonist/seductress!Reader

Warning/s: Angst, Yandere/Dark themes, Manipulation, Mentions of killing, Bored and mean reader.

(Note: this takes place in the late 19th century)

'It is not the quality of the desired object that gives us pleasure, but rather the energy of our appetites'

~ Charles Baudelaire, The end of Don Juan

A dejected summer, that's what it was. The suffocating air that leaves you sweltering in your corset but I am anything but, naked on my cold feet with a cigar between those gentil fingers, sluggishly looking out from my apartment window into the florid affluent streets which were once quite and reserved. The sounds of playful squabbling, the occasional delightful squeals of children, the ecstatic laughter of women did nothing to soothe that covetous feeling throbbing at the pit of my stomach. Nor did the family of stars splattered all across the dark night sky with the dazzling moon nowhere to be seen. They seemed to be mocking me with every sparkle, impersonating my woe by disappearing this second only to come back and laugh at my face. Oh well. It hurts my chest as I exhale out the smog; I forgot that I even took a drag. Not even smoke can replace that void in my lungs now.

This moment is slightly pleasant though, accompanied by the crisp breeze that blows in through the drapes, strong enough to make my locks flutter and trigger my cigar to litter on the window railing (that I'm not bothering to clean anytime soon) but not enough to take the glum away with it. The only thing that found me pleasant enough to return. And... the troubled men that found home in my cosy and welcoming bed. Neither of them were guaranteed.

Thinking about men, I glance back into the dark room to spot the man I chose for the night. Blissfully sound asleep between my covers, with a small but radiant smile adorning his regal face. He really emulated the beautiful night sky, the baby constellation spreading across his portrait in the form of les grains de beauté. The way the light reflected off of his unblemished face puts la lune to shame, almost looking as if it is it's own light source. His beauty truly was bewitching and I would've felt envious of it if I didn't know any better.

If I didn't own an enormous dressing mirror in the corner which kept reflecting the street lights back onto my eyes; it was adorned with pink crystals, fresh roses and myrtles, white feathers and burnt out incense that left behind a soft but strong scent. It truly looked like an altar for venus herself, towering over me to have me take a look at the highly sexual, supremely confident, alluring female that offers endless pleasure and a bit of... danger. At least, that's what people men see. And I agree with it. I know the expression does sound like something that would come out of Narcissus' mouth as he stares into his reflection but can you really blame me?

It's the huge impact left on me by years and years of society misjudging me as just another pretty face in the crowd. No matter how hard I worked on something, it would always be de-emphasized. All the blood, sweat and tears only to be wasted because individuals couldn't see the nimble brain past the pleasant portrait. I wanted to stand out, and I did at times but.. not in the way I wanted to. But soon enough, I began to convince myself that maybe this isn't so bad at all, and wearily...

... I accepted it.

I accepted my place in the stupid community as one of those women, a blood sucking succubus is just how they saw me to be exact. Mind you, I've never stood sturdy in any of my subjects until I slowly started to abuse my power and it made me feel competent and sure enough I felt powerful enough to destroy families, to get someone to chase me so feverishly that they lose control but I guess I was never that valuable to keep nor was I important enough for someone to actually care about me. The only difference between your pompous narrator here and a poor mistress is that I don't have a fickle of hope nor do I really care enough about a particular visitor to be left heartbroken.

It still kills me to feel impotent at the end of the day (or the start of the day, when they leave me with nothing). I feel like THE FOOL, a frail dog chasing a car....

....But as the lonely sun finally decides to set to rest and the family of stars gets more discernable with every shimmer against the dark and misty horizon; I, once again find myself repeating history as if my life's a record on the phonograph. But as one get sick of listening to the same song over and over again, there's a momentary pause... and then an appalling revelation; it's seems as though you've been singing the most important part of the song, the chorus, wrong.

And suddenly I can grasp it all..

.

.

.

You see, lust is what makes one take a glance at you. Temptation is what makes them throw caution in the air, when they know they shouldn't. But is it really enough to keep the attention on you? Is the beauty really enough for the sirens who beckon sailors to their destruction? If that was the case, wouldn't mermaids be able to do the same? Love is-

"...h-hey?"

That deep voice...

Then suddenly, lean icy fingers grabbed my arm and pulled me back into reality just when I started inching through the darkness in my mind.

Oh God. How did I not see him wake up? Especially with the mess he made in an effort to get up from the bed? One of the pillows accompanied with the sheets are on the floor... those velvet covers are really hard to wash. I will never forgive him for that.

But my irritation soon turned into embarrassment when I pondered over how crazy I must have looked, naked while just staring into my mirror with a cigar in hand. Or what was left of it, the soft ash on my fingers, my bare breasts and one of my thighs.

"Is everything a-alright?" He questioned. I looked down to his palm which was still holding my arm with a firm grip. He followed my gaze, his eyes widening slighting as he quickly let it go. "I m-mean, you were kind of dazed off or something. I thought..." he muttered after clearing his throat in a futile attempt at ceasing the stuttering. "Yeah.. I was just thinking about something" I replied as I looked up at his eyes and his orbs that were just suffering with nervousness and uncertainty were now swimming in curiosity. I couldn't help but let a giggle get past my lips. He hummed in response as his brows furrowed. "about.. this." I uttered, feigning a bashful look. His brows furrowed even further, creating small lines on his otherwise smooth forehead. "What do you mean by "this" ?" He seems to have forgotten his tense stance and the risqué side of me wanted to bring it back so I tried. "Our liaison, everything we did and...." if it weren't for the pin drop silence in the room, I would've never heard his breath hitching as he waited for me to continue. "Us." I finished with a whisper...

... After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for him to answer, my patience wore thin so I couldn't help but gently poke his chest. It surely did broke the trance he was in and the cute timid man was back. "Uh- I- uhm" he stuttered, looking at everything but my presence. I slowly started to feel the disappointment building up in the bottom of my stomach. Why do I when I didn't even expected anything else? If this is the only way it can go for me, why not have a little fun? I couldn't help but let out a smirk which I covered in a second, hoping he didn't see it. "I might be quite racy at times but I don't just do this with anyone. I thought I told you in the tavern that if you are to leave, leave already..." as soon as I finished bluffing the sadness in my voice, I casted my eyes downwards at his feet as I anticipated the same white lies but they never came. I awaited the "I will never leave you", "you're the best thing that ever happened" or my personal favorite one " I have a wife and kids that I love very dearly" but he didn't say anything. And just as I was about to look up, the smooth dark honey voice cut me off.

"And I thought I told you that I didn't want to follow you back home for whatever fleshly pleasures you had to offer.." the hint of disappointment was evident. This was a new one to add in the book, eh? "But because my precious cameras are all in vain without your figure and your lively soul.. like an empty canvas to an artist with no references or muse." My ears couldn't help but perk up as he continued, " Sure, they might not be too good at capturing the enigma that is you as the films only render in shades of grey which evidently fails to recognize the different shades of your blush and the undertones, but this is all that I have..."

It's his time to wait as I, for the first time, didn't know what to say. He opened his lips once again "I would be lying if I said I didn't gravely fell in love the second I took my first glance at you months ago. Love at first sight was never my thing but you cleared all my doubts about the idea". I wanted to mock him and tell him about how lust in first sight is a thing, not love but I rather chose to humor him. "That's what they all said..." I slowly look up at his face, looking at each and every feature carefully leaving out his mors than intense eyes. "Who are "they"?" He asked with a slight fury in his voice and the sharp edge of the words spoken almost gashed my already tainted soul. I wish I didn't faked the courage and take a glance into his orbs since I saw the immense anger and hatred through his narrowed eyes as he scrutinized my very existence. I withered uncomfortably under his glare, already regretting opening my mouth without thinking.

"You seriously didn't just compare me to those men, did you? After everything I've done? After I got rid of those hideous women that had nothing else to do but spread nasty rumours about you because the same husbands that couldn't get it up for them were lusting after you? Because they couldn't hold their husbands accountable so they were threatened by you?" He took a sharp but shaky breath before continuing, "Or after I got rid of those men who bonded over their heinous fantasies about violating you?..." I cover my mouth, I feel like throwing up. Not because I don't want to/can't believe it but because this is alot of information to take in in a few minutes. I heard him sigh and his voice suddenly changed from being gruff to soft in a second as he saw my terrified look, "you see these hands, sweetheart?" He said in a slightly coaxing voice as he laid his large hand on top of mine, "They were only used to clicking pictures of everything beautiful and developing them but now, they're stained with shed blood of anyone who dared to lay a finger on you.... You made me this way. You made me so empathetically challenged. You did this."

Me? Me...

I did this. I made him this way.

"How could you have been so blind?"

How could I have been so blind?

Maybe I didn't give myself enough credit.

And as he continued to stare into my frame with such adoration that it reminded me of what I was thinking about before he startled me by waking up...

As I was saying previously, lust is what makes one take a glance at you. Temptation is what makes them throw caution in the air, when they know they shouldn't but it's still not enough to keep the attention on you. Love is. It is the greatest weapon of all. It's the most exceptional power that you can have over someone. Making them do what they never thought they ever would do, act in ways they might've mocked previous to meeting you, taking up any space in their mind that was left for rationality and instead plaguing it with sweet obsession. Not even fear dares to compete with love when it comes to power. If anything, they go hand in hand. It truly turns a mermaid to a siren.

Wow. It's not the family of stars that I envied, who would want to look like some aliens just jizzed all over the sky? I was made to be la lune, who with all her blemishes littering her skin still stood unfazed as her admirers wrote poems about her beauty. It's not the homely women that I envied, I have always been quite sophisticated but I just wanted to belong somewhere.

I wanted power over someone or something.

And the thought of me making this man do the most vile acts of crime that humanity cannot even begin to visualize in their brains flared up the familiar feeling of ascendency and competency but this time? It was about to stay. Why? Because he is to stay.

I softly smiled at that thought and slowly held my small hands up to his face to caress his cheeks. The shyness got to him as he squeezed his eyes shut to relish in the contact without having to look at my amused face. I could feel him slowly shaking under finger tips, his face was warm unlike the rest of his body. The effect that my small gesture had on him is unlike anything I've ever seen or experienced. This isn't vulgar, this is sensual. And sure, what I feel might not be love but it has one thing in common with it. It's a drug. A high we're both on, and not even my cigar, my only companion for so long can compete with it.

Let's see how long this lasts before I drain all life out of him... or maybe, this is forever but I doubt. Then again, he- wait a minute... what's his name, again? This is going to suck. As I was saying, he does like to surprise me so let's hope for the best.

"Okay, let's just forget we met like this... hello, my name's y/n", I reached out for his hand to shake with a small smile on my face. He erupted into giggles as he took my hand, "Nice to meet you y/n, this is taehyung." Taehyung. Oh taehyung. And suddenly the cheerful atmosphere turned into something sinister as I pulled him in.

"Taehyung, I am like a raging flame.. don't be a moth and get too close or I might destroy you" I whispered in my raspy voice, the smirk that played in my rouge lips being incredibly devilish along with that red unnatural glint in my eye.

"I want to be destroyed."

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over  way  too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't  bleeding  to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite.  I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was  so  scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did  care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die!  (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were  literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "-  And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!"  A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!"  The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!"  The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright  vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

...

...

Please save me...

...

...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Seven is here...

Chapter Eight: Dracarys

Chapter Nine is Coming Soon...

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, gore, fluff, mentions of beatings (may be triggering)

When you walk alongside Ivar and Hvitserk, you see the three guards that put you in that horrid cage. The other two that helped carry you, were behind them, waiting for their fate to be sealed. Hvitserk nudges and smirks at you.

"What?"

Hvitserk "Nothing, I just think that you are going to enjoy this a great deal."

"Oh I will. I didn't deserve what they did to me, so they deserve what they are going to get." 

Hvitserk chuckles and throws his arm around your shoulder, "I like you, princess. You are going to fit in very well here in Kattegat."

"Thank you, and I like you too Hvitserk. You've helped me these past two days and I cannot thank you enough. I owe you."

Hvitserk "Don't worry about it, Y/n. It was my pleasure to help you. Ivar would have done it himself if he could."

"I know. I feel for him."

Hvitserk "As do I, princess. But he is Ivar, he does not like pity."

"I understand how he feels. My people in Wessex, they know how my father is. And yet they don't show me pity, they just simply look the other way when I come out of my chambers with fresh bruises."

Hvitserk "He beats you-?!" He gets cut off by Ivar starting the ritual. 

You whisper and lean into his shoulder, "I will tell you after, but yes he does. It is a very long story."

Hvitserk "Okay, I am sorry. Just know that as of right now."

"Thanks."

…

Ivar takes a seat right in front of his people and reaches out for you to join him, to which you gladly take his offer.

Ivar "Are you ready, princess."

"Yes, my king. Thank you for giving me justice. You don't have to if-"

Ivar "Nonsense! I care for you a great deal, Y/n. These three deserve what they are about to get. You are not the first person to be treated that way."

"Really, who were the other's?"

Ivar "Hvitserk's late beloved, and two others. So yes, I am happy to do this."

"Okay." He kisses your knuckles and then looks at his people.

Ivar "My good people, you all know these men very well! You know how they have tendencies to take their power a little too far, don't we?"

"Yes!"

Ivar "What you do not know, is that these three guards threw princess Y/n into a cage we keep for intruders! People who disobey and people who defame my image! Not innocent women who simply came for help, for a better life! They also did that to Thora, my brother's late lover. She also did not deserve that. Two others were also thrown without my word, without my ruling! Now do we allow that?!"

"No!"

Ivar "So what should we do, my people! Because surely princess Y/n, among others deserve justice for what they have done to them, do they not?!"

"Yes!"

Ivar "So, what shall we do to them huh?!"

"Hang them!" Some shout.

"Sacrifice them!" Another shouts.

Ivar chuckles and then looks at you, "What do you wish for me to do, princess?"

"I do not care, just kill that one first." You point to the man in the middle. 

Ivar "Yes, my princess. Question...ax, dagger or sword?"

Him asking you that question, gave you a tingle that you couldn't ignore. 

"Dagger, my king. Make him suffer." You see his jaw clench in excitement. He kisses your forehead and then gets up and walks right up to the man you pointed at. He turns around one last time and takes out his dagger.

Ivar "Your future queen, has decided that I do this personally! To which I am happy to do. Do any of you object?" No one objects, making Ivar look at his brother in amusement. 

Hvitserk "Do it, brother! Make him scream-" when Ivar is about to do it, Ubbe and Torvi arrive back from their travel's. 

…

Ubbe "What is all of this hmm? And who is she?"

Ivar "This is my soon to be queen, Ubbe."

Ubbe "Oh is that so? Well, what is your name little sis?"

"I am Y/n, princess of Wessex."

Ubbe "Oh how nice. Now Ivar, why are three of our personal guards waiting to be killed, hmm?"

Ivar "They threw Y/n into our cage, Ubbe. I did not command it, I did not even know that she was here! They kept her in there without my knowledge for over eight hours."

Ubbe "Are you serious?"

Torvi "Are you certain?"

Hvitserk "Yes, they admitted it."

Ivar "I won't allow another woman to be thrown in that horrid cage that isn't meant for them. First it was Thora, then it was two of your allies, now Y/n. I won't allow it...surely you would agree, yes?"

Ubbe "Yes, it was just a shock is all. But it must be done. Y/n, it was nice to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you shortly, hmm?"

"Yes of course." 

Torvi "How long is your stay?"

Ivar "Indefinitely."

Torvi "Oh how wonderful." They walk away, not even mentioning the emerald green dragon that sat calmly by your side. Which you thought was strange. 

Hvitserk sits down next to you, waiting for Ivar to get the job done as much as you are. 

Hvitserk "Continue Ivar." Ivar clears his throat and turns around to face the man. 

"Please my king...I will not do that again. Give me another chanc-"

Ivar "YOU HAD CHANCES! I GAVE YOU FOUR, AND YOU STILL DISOBEY MY ORDERS! I told you, when we have visitors you send them straight to me. And what do you do? You put them in the cage for hours on end!"

"I AM SO SORRY, IVAR! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!"

Ivar "Mercy? MERCY?! DID YOU GIVE Y/N MERCY? HUH?"

"N-no."

Ivar "Let me ask you something. Did she tell you who she was, hmm?"

"Y-yes."

Ivar "Huh? I didn't catch that."

"YES!"

Ivar "Yes. That is what I thought. What else did she say to you huh?"

"She..she told me that you knew that she was coming. She told me to just talk to you."

Ivar "Mhm..and did you? Did you come tell me that?"

"N..no. I didn't trust her! She has a fucking DRAGON!"

Ivar "I KNEW THAT SHE HAD A DRAGON! YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!" 

"Please Ivar."

Ivar "You threw the woman that I have grown insanely close with in a dark, isolated and cold cage for over eight hours! She could have starved to death, she could have died from hypothermia! It is beyond freezing in there, for a reason!"

"Please, i-i am not ready for Valhalla!"

Ivar "Hmm..strange. 'cause I can hear the Valkaries wings coming down to bring you home right now!" The man screams out one last time before Ivar digs his dagger into his right eye. Hvitserk cheers and throws his horn of ale in the bastard's direction. Ivar doesn't stop there, he digs his other eye out and then slits the man's throat. To everyone's surprise, he is still gurgling. Ivar looked at you and then at Ryuu. You know what he is asking of you and you think about it for a moment. He didn't just put you in that cage, he also put your dragon in there with you. You make up your mind and rise from your seat. You walk over to Ivar with Ryuu on your shoulder. 

"Dracarys." Ryuu blazes the man from head to toe while the people of Kattegat cheer. Ivar stood there in amazement at your dragon. After he was dead, it was the two others' turn. 

"What about them?"

Ivar "I will simply hang them."

"Good, the two behind them don't deserve to die, Ivar. They followed his orders, nothing else."

Ivar looks at them kneeling on the floor, begging for mercy and then back at you. 

Ivar "Okay princess, if you say so. I will allow them to live."

After the two others were hung, Ivar had his people clean up the bodies. 

Hvitserk walks over to the two men that you saved, uncuffing them from the floor. 

Hvitserk "You owe her your lives, do you understand that?"

"Yes." They both said. 

Hvitserk "Because of her, you both live to see another day." That is when you walk over. 

"Th-thank you! THANK YOU!" They practically chanted.

"You are very welcome. I know that you simply followed orders. Now if you ever betray me, I will burn you alive."

They swallowed deeply, "Yes. Yes princess."

"What happened to not using your dragon's to kill?" One said.

"I will allow them to kill for me if it is justified. If you betray me or your king ever again, I will burn you alive. Do you understand?"

"Yes." They both said.

Hvitserk "You can leave." They both ran for their lives. Ivar was behind you and Hvitserk the whole time. 

Ivar "I have never met a woman so powerful before you, princess."

"I-I don't know where that came from." He walks towards you, cupping your cheeks.

Ivar "Your rage came out, my sweetheart. Your pain from your father, your pain from your past came up...that is why you said those things." 

"You are right. I am not usually like that."

Hvitserk "But you have a reason to be, Y/n. Don't feel bad for setting rules, you are a princess."

"Okay."

_____________________________

Ivar had matter's to take care of with his brother Ubbe and his wife Torvi, leaving you and Hvitserk alone. 

Hvitserk "Hey."

"Hey."

Hvitserk "Do you want to tell me now? If you are ready.."

"Sure, Hvitserk." 

He sits down next to you and listens to you tell your story of your past. You explained to him your father's ways and his behavior. When you get to the beatings, you can see Hvitserk's behavior change abruptly: tears filled his eyes and his jaw was clenched. But eyes never left yours. 

"So that is why I understand how Ivar doesn't like being pitied. But for me, I have never experienced empathy, sympathy or pity. I just had to fight my own little battle by myself because no one else would dare go against my father."

Hvitserk "I don't know what to say."

"Yeah."

Hvitserk "Well you aren't there anymore, Y/n. You don't ever have to go back if you do not wish to."

"I have to eventually, Hvitserk. I have two dragon's at home waiting for me. Oh my gods MY DRAGON'S!"

Hvitserk "Y/n, what is it?!"

"My dad, he...he will change my dragons! I trained them to be loving unless told otherwise! His dragons were much different."

Hvitserk "What do we need to do?"

"I need to get my dragons."

Hvitserk gets up, "So let's get ready to get your dragons and bring them home. Where they belong."

@hvitserkmarcosource @ivarsgoddess @youbloodymadgenius @a-mess-of-fandoms @ivarzeitgeist @kaitieskidmore1 @fadedprincess @more-stuf-f @herestherealproblem @heavenly1927 @saldelys

[peacockwinchester]

Mairon/Sauron x Misha

Remembered that I have literally never posted a oneshot of my most hammered out story. I have been in love with Mairon for a couple years, he is my comfort character and this story is probably my most well-developed and longest running one. Anyway, I hope it is good!!

Warnings: Relationship issues, general LOTR things, heights, angst with happy ending, actually no curses (Wow, Misha what are you doing?!)

..

~Misha~

I had been invited (more like summoned) to Imladris by my niece, Galadriel. I had already been made aware of the stirrings near Mordor, and I had had many dreams of my husband, even though he would still be without a body for a long time. Beleg had come with me, since he liked the company of Elrond's sons and Glorfindel.

We were greeted at the entrance by Lindir.

"My lords," he greeted us.

"Lindir," I nodded.

"To what do we owe the pleasure? We had not expected you," Lindir asked politely, though I could sense his unease.

"We were asked here by my niece," I replied. "We won't overstay our welcome."

It was always icy with our kin, even after all these centuries. Such was the curse of my family. Lindir nodded briskly and stepped aside so we could enter. We were almost immediately greeted by Galadriel.

"Welcome," she smiled at Beleg and I, speaking in Sindarin, "I hope Lindir didn't give you too much trouble. He is... untrusting."

"Who isn't untrusting of us?" Beleg scoffed.

"There are many, myself included," Galadriel assured us.

"Why did you ask us here?" I inquired.

"A party of dwarves is coming our way. They are led by Olorin, who I believe has worrying news for us. I was summoned here by Saruman."

"Worrying things are beginning across the land. I assume you and Elrond will want my observations?"

"Yes, but you will not speak to Saruman?"

"I feel evil in him, much like my Atar," Beleg explained.

"He has been acting strangely, but we must not jump to conclusions," Galadriel frowned.

"Perhaps," Beleg pursed his lips. "I will leave you to the talking, I am going to look for Glorfindel."

"Alright," I nodded.

Galadriel led me to the council room, where Elrond was discussing the tidings with Saruman. I felt a similar feeling to Beleg's. Saruman had been striking me as off for a while, but I also understood Galadriel's desire to keep the peace.

When we arrived, Elrond stopped what he was doing.

"Lord Misha," he nodded, "Galadriel."

"It is good to see you, Elrond," I smiled.

"Why have you come?" Saruman frowned.

"Galadriel asked for me. It would likely be beneficial to have my experiences. She also tells me Olorin is coming with a party of dwarves," I narrowed my eyes at the white wizard.

"Very well. What have you seen?" Elrond cleared his throat.

I sat down across the table from my long removed nephew and sighed. Galadriel also took a seat at my side.

"I have been having dreams," I steepled my hands under my chin.

"What sort?" Elrond frowned.

"Troubling for our cause. I have seen my husband many times in my sleep. He speaks to me often. I know he will still need time to regain his full power, but his progression is worrying."

"Do you mind telling us what he says?"

I pursed my lips and looked at my hands. To tell the truth, most of what Mairon talked to me about was insignificant. It was the sort of conversations one has with roommates or after one gets home from work. Just like the old days... He sometimes reminisced about times we had shared together, like the weeks he spent healing me or our time in Valinor. I didn't think any of that was vital to our cause.

"I... All I know is that despite all his sentiments towards me, he isn't going to stop," I shook my head slightly.

Elrond and Galadriel seemed to pick up on my unease and quickly dismissed the council.

..

There was almost always a feast at Elrond's house, and tonight was no different. Afterwards, Beleg and I spent some time in the Hall of Fire, before I decided to go to bed. Beleg and I had been given rooms close to each other. I entered mine and put on my night shirt. My bed was comfortable, and I fell asleep relatively quickly.

..

I opened my eyes to see that I was still in my guest room. However, I knew I was dreaming because on the end of my bed sat Mairon. He looked over at me, smiling slightly.

"I always look forward to visiting you," he said.

"I know," I sighed.

"You're troubled..." Mairon frowned at me.

"Of course I am, Mairon!" I scowled. "How could I not be troubled?! You're trying to take over the world and basically kill my people, not to mention everyone else!!"

"Misha- I don't want to kill everyone! I just want to show everyone that we deserve respect, and order!" Mairon argued.

"Mairon, no one will ever respect us if you keep this up! I'm sorry, but I just can't keep acting like you've done nothing wrong. Because you have done so much... and I don't know if we'll ever be the same..."

Mairon sighed and looked away from me.

"I know..." he said quietly. "But they listen to me... The orcs truly listen to me, not like Aule or Melkor who pretended to. Misha, I'm finally important, and I'm not going to stop, because everyone in Middle Earth needs to know how important I am. How important my family really is."

"Mairon," I stopped him by putting a hand up, "Until you stop and you face the consequences of your actions and the actions you're planning on taking... I can't see you. So, please leave me alone..."

Mairon looked stunned at my words, like I had just physically impaled him. But I knew he understood, or he would in time, and he left.

..... Continuity? We don't know her. Time for the destruction of the Ring.....

I had never actually been to Mordor, even after all these years. It was a barren, volcanic wasteland. Looming over everything was the volcano itself and Barad-dur, which was a replica of my own home. My whole head was a hurricane of emotions. I was scared, scared that we would fail, scared of what would happen if we won... Scared to see him.

Frodo and Sam were at my side, disguised in orc armor. But everything was deserted. I swallowed my fear and hesitation and put a hand on Frodo's and Sam's shoulders.

"You two do what we came here to do. I believe in you," I smiled at them.

"What are you gonna do, Mx. Misha?" Sam frowned.

"I'm going to see him," I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Good luck then," Sam shook my hand.

"You too. I'll see you on the other side," I saluted the Hobbits, before jogging up to Barad-dur.

I stopped just short of the gate. Would he come with me? Would he be too proud to admit defeat and serve time for his crimes? Would everything be too much for our relationship? Almost shaking, I pushed open the giant black gate.

Centered with the door was a large, dark throne, on which sat the person I had been waiting for and dreading seeing simultaneously. I knew it was him by the shock of golden hair and the way he sat. When he saw me walk in, he stood immediately and descended the throne. He didn't come closer yet, probably in fear of my anger. But after all these centuries, I just wanted everything to be over and to heal.

"Misha," Mairon said.

"Mairon," I replied.

"Why did you come?" my husband asked.

"I want to offer something."

"Oh?"

"I want you to come home with me. We can work through everything and you can begin to mend what you've broken. I spoke with Manwe in my dreams, and he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I just... I just want all this to end..."

Mairon sighed, finally coming closer. He stopped just in front of me.

"You came with the Ring, didn't you?" he said.

"Yes. Surely you know you can't win," I crossed my arms. "My friends are taking it to the mountain now. There isn't time to stop them."

"I know," Mairon sighed, "Eru, you always were smarter..."

"So?" I held out my hand between us.

Mairon looked at my hand for a long minute, and I almost though he wouldn't take it. I convinced myself he wouldn't and began to prepare to deal with that. I was pulled out of my wormhole by the warm weight of Mairon's hand in mine.

"I'll come with you," he affirmed. "Nothing will ever erase the damage I've done, but I want to start over. I want... to be a family again."

I felt tears slip out of my eyes unwittingly, and as I looked at him, I saw Mairon was crying a bit too. The weight of all the years without him and all the years of wondering whether we would ever be able to be something again finally hit me and I let go of Mairon's hand to throw my arms around him. Mairon held onto me as tightly as he could.

We just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, before Mairon's grip loosened. I let out a gasp, like the air had just been knocked out of his lungs. His knees buckled and I struggled to keep him upright.

"Mairon?!" I asked, panicking slightly.

"Misha... The-the ring's gone..." Mairon breathed.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked fearfully.

"I mean.... Probably??"

"Are you sure?"

"Meh."

It was clear that he was a bit loopy right now. I felt a shower of dust fall onto me and I started coughing. I looked up to see the ceiling begin to crumble.

"Mairon!!" I cried.

My husband, clearly out of it, barely managed to throw up a shield to protect us. When the dust settled, we were under a mountain of rubble. Mairon used what little power he had at the moment to burst the shield and throw rubble off of us. When I could see the sky, I hauled Mairon to his feet (he could barely stand and he ended up leaning heavily on me) and began dragging us out of the ruins of Barad-dur.

Once on top, I let out a string of Quenyan curses. The volcano was erupting and lava was pouring out of it, heading towards us. Overhead, I saw large birds circling. Two swooped down on teh side of the mountain and another began descending towards Mairon and I's position. I had only enough time to yelp and squeeze my eyes shut as the giant eagle picked us up.

"Misha?" I heard Mairon ask.

I let out a strained panicked noise and kept my eyes shut. I happen to be deathly afraid of heights, and I did not trust Manwe's eagles one bit.

"Netya hanu, you're ok, I think. I might be dying, actually, um....." Mairon tried to reassure me, despite him being completely out of it.

"Did... did you just call me... pretty boy?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Did I? Oh... Didn't mean to say that out loud. Did you know you smell nice?"

I laughed, though it was somewhat strained. We were finally done with the Ring and all of that nasty stuff. It was over. Mairon was going to begin mending the hurt he'd caused Arda and we could finally begin to talk through everything. Despite my issues with my current altitude, I was elated.

.....

Hi. Did you like it? I've never actually written down how this all goes down, so I hope it was good. Anywho, if you want more Mairon content, I can be persuaded to write it more frequently :)). Have a great day/night, and take care of urself!!

[whatiftwilight]

“I have to leave...”

Jasper Hale x reader

My breath catches in my throat for what feels like the thousandth time today, my ears deceiving and tormenting me with the sounds of movement in my room, someone at the door or the window, none of which reveal themselves as real as I sit in almost complete darkness at the end of my bed.

I hadn't thought to turn a light on when I assumed my spot here an hour ago, and now that the sun has gone down completely, my stress has seemingly inhibited my ability to move from my frozen state.

Every few seconds my eyes will dart to the clock, simultaneously willing the time to go faster and wishing the time I'm waiting for will never come.

Anyone who saw me would think I'm going crazy; hands fiddling unrelentingly in my lap, knee bouncing at a speed I thought could never be reached, teeth chewing mercilessly at the inside of my cheeks and my whole body  jumping at every single sound my ears can pick up.

My usually calm persona flew straight out the window the moment I sat in my car to drive home from school, seeing a note written in my boyfriends perfectly cursive handwriting: we need to talk, I'll be at yours at seven.

That sentence would never usually trigger this response from me, but when your boyfriend is a vampire who has a somewhat "brother" with a girlfriend that clearly has a hard time avoiding catastrophe, he could be on his way to tell you anything. And given the escapade that happened not too long ago with a psychotic vampire who went by the name James, my mind had learnt to assume the worst.

Ten minutes.

For about an hour and a half when I got home from school I was able to distract myself to a certain extent, doing the laundry for my mother so she doesn't have to do it when she gets home from working a late shift at the hospital and cooking a meal for myself that she can easily heat up when she gets home; but there's only so much television you can watch that will keep your mind occupied when something so big is weighing on you.

"Y/N?" I almost scream, jumping to my feet at lightening speed as Jasper appears through my window.

I must have been worrying too much about how much I was worrying to notice him even coming through the window. That, or his speed as a vampire is just too superior to my human eyesight.

"Jasper" I breathe quietly, only really noticing now that I had been holding my breath.

He doesn't say anything for the moment, just approaches me slowly and reaches out for my hand, taking it from where it hung limp at my side and bringing it to his lips for a second before tangling our fingers together.

"What's wrong, Jas?"

My feelings of worry solidify after watching his behaviour, if what he wants to talk about isn't bad then why hasn't he kissed me like usually does? Why hasn't he made a joke about how messy my room is? Why hasn't he made an excuse to call me "ma'am" in his perfect southern accent?

"You're going to hate me" He says after a few minutes of silence, my heart clenching at the thought of him thinking I could ever harbour that strong a feeling against him.

"Jasper you know I could never, just tell me what's going on"

He sighs and for a moment, just a moment, I let myself get lost in his honeycomb eyes that usually make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world when they're focused on me. Now they're just filling me with dread.

"I have to leave"

My eyebrows raise immediately, my first instinct being to accuse him of lying or trying to prank me, before I really look into his eyes and see no trace of a lie, no trace of him trying not to crack a smile.

"Excuse me?" Is the only thing I can seem to muster at this point, needing more explanation before my brain can even begin to comprehend what he means by that.

"Edward wants to leave. He doesn't want this life for Bella, he thinks if we leave for long enough she can learn to live without him and be happy"

His voice is monotone, no emotion to it whatsoever as he apparently tries to avoid meeting my eyes again as I glare up at him.

"Okay? So let him leave what does that have to do with you?" My stubbornness is coming out, playing naive when I know full well the Cullens are a family and would never let Edward leave indefinitely on his own if he didn't have to.

"Baby you know I can't st—"

"So you're telling me you're leaving me because Edward can't get over himself and let Bella choose what life she wants to live?" I interrupt, panic flowing through my body at the thought of losing the one person I don't think I could survive without.

I know he can feel it, but I know he knows better than to try and influence my emotions at a time like this.

"What happened to not being able to stay away from me? To me being the only thing that makes you sane? Did all that just go away?" He doesn't speak for a long period of time so I do it for him, challenging him with his own words that he's spoken to me more than once.

I can tell that this hurt him, whether it was the insinuation that he lied to me, or the accusation that his feelings for me were so weak that he could just turn them off and leave. Deep down I know neither reason is true,  but at this point I don't care. He knows he's hurting me beyond what I've ever felt before and my instinct is to fight back.

"You know that's not true..." His voice is just a whisper when he finally speaks, his eyes closing for a second before he looks at me again. My heart falters at the sadness in his eyes, wanting to reach out and fix it. But I can't. He's the one leaving.

"I can come and visit...you can come away with me for a while in the holidays I promise" He lifts his hand to tuck a piece of my hair away behind my ear but I step back, refusing to look at him.

I'm being stubborn and slightly unreasonable and I'm fully aware of it. Part of me hopes that if I throw a tantrum he'll stay, but I know it would kill him to stay away from the family he's been with for so long.

"It's only until graduation and then you can join us wherever we're staying!" I can hear the desperation in his voice and it makes my heart break a little bit.

I don't know when he did it, but he'd reached over and turned a lamp on at some point, possibly when he got here, which allows me to see his pleading eyes, begging me to be okay with the situation he's laid out for me.

"I can't lose you" He steps towards me again and reaches out his hand to cup my jaw and this time I let him.

"Then you won't"

This is me surrendering to him. Accepting the fact that  he will leave and I can either throw a tantrum and shut him out of my life completely or accept that I'll have to make do with seeing him when possible until I graduate. It would kill me to go on without him. So i'll have to make do.

His hands slide around my waist to take their place on the small of my back, pulling me into him as I slowly place my arms around his neck, aware that he still has problems with his thirst from time to time and not wanting to trigger anything.

"Come on, you need to sleep" Jasper speaks after a long period of silence, neither of us wanting to let the other go.

He sits on my bed while I change out of my jeans and into an oversized shirt, pulling me on top of him as soon as I climb onto my bed. This is something he wouldn't usually do, scared that his control would slip and he'd do something to hurt me, but he underestimates himself hugely and I trust him with my life.

"Please don't cry" He lifts a hand to my face to wipe the few tears that grace my cheeks. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until he acknowledged it.

"I love you" I whisper in the dark, taking his hand from my face and intertwining our fingers together.

Jaspers lips are soft against mine as he pulls me down gently to kiss him, his free hand holding my body against his.

"I love you more"

[iamknicole]

Just the Two of Us (12)

HAHN AU

After lunch Melissa rode with Benny and Lainey since Marcie was headed back to Maxine. Despite her telling them they didn't have to, the siblings walked her up to her apartment and stepped inside.

"Your place is very," Lainey paused looking around, "Put together."

Melissa snorted plopping down on the sofa, "Wasn't any of my doing. It was his mom."

Before they could go any further, Jeffrey slid his feet into the main area of the apartment with a scowl on his face. He walked over to toss a card to her and turned back around not caring that it fell on the floor. Melissa started to pick it up but Benny got to it first.

"Aye, don't throw shit at no woman. Fuck is wrong witchu?"

Lainey politely stepped out of her brother's way going to sit beside her friend. Jeffrey turned back around, the scowl still on his face.

"How about you mind your got damn business and get out of my place."

Benny held the card up between them, "Don't throw shit at no woman. Hand it to her."

"I'm not handing shit to her. You can if you want to and then get the hell out."

Laughing a little, Benny's free hand went to his throat. He squeezed then lifted the smaller man off the ground. Lainey had to stop her friend from getting up, her intervening wouldn't make Benny let him go and Lainey knew it.

"You heard what I said. I don't fuckin repeat myself," Benny said through gritted teeth, "Do what I said or Ima toss you the way you tossed this card."

Benny held him up a few seconds longer then let him go and held the card out. Jeffrey took it for him and went to hold it out to Melissa with a shaky hand then left the room quickly.

"Hes gonna be so mad when yall leave," Melissa laughed.

Benny shrugged. "You got my number, call if you need me to break his jaw."

"Break his jaw?"

"Yeah," Benny nodded a small smirk on his face. "I break jaws and I break backs. Depends on my mood."

Lainey stood up quickly groaning, "See, uhn uhn that's nasty. Let's go, Benjamin."

Benny laughed at both females reactions. Melissa sat there looking stuck, just staring at him. He winked at her ignoring his sister pulling his arm.

"Ima get outta here and get my lil baby home. But you call me, aight?"

Melissa nodded. "Alright, Benny."

"Your lil baby is ready to go," Lainey sassed, "Bring your ass on, Romeo."

Benny dropped her off at the house then went to his office to check on the paperwork the secretary said he needed to look over. To be honest, he had been avoiding going to his tow yard. He was still extremely angry with Mitch but he didn't want to get carried away and kill him. He was ruthleess but he wasn't stupid.

Seeing the old Honda made him roll his eyes but he got out anyway and went inside the office. He stopped by the secretary's desk to pick up the folder with his name on it then headed back to the larger office. Mitch got up from his desk when he saw his friend wall into their shared office.

"Benny, I been callin you. I wanna talk and make this right." Mitch sputtered out quickly.

"You wanna talk," Benny scoffed tossing the folder onto his desk, "Talk about how you groped my lil baby in the one place she's supposed to be safe?"

Mitch sighed, "You have every right to be pissed, I get it. I was drunk and not thinking I'm sorry."

Benny swung at the slightly taller man, hitting him in his mouth. "Keep that bullshit ass apology. You thought she was gon let you do it and give in but my sister smarter than them females you be dealing with."

Mitch doubled over and held his jaw, "Dammit, B! Chill!"

Ignoring him, Benny charge at his former friend knocking him over and started to assault him. Though Mitch was bigger in stature, Benny was much stronger and it showed. Mitch was pretty much powerless in the fight. Satisfied with what he'd done, Benny got up and dusted himself off. He went to his desk to sign the paperwork leaving his unconscious ex friend on the floor and left when he was finish. Benny knew he didn't have enough money to buy Much outta his half of their business but when he did, Mitch was a good as gone.

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

Three months later and things were going smoothly. Fortunately for Jeffrey's jaw, he had been cordial with Melissa so Benny didn't have to make any visits. But that didn't stop her from talking to him on the phone almost every night, and taking him lunch a few times a week. Mitch's brusies had finally healed and he came back to work full time but he was rarely in the office with Benny. Caleb had moved into the house, Benny and Lainey didn't protest it, they were trying for the sake of their mother to have a better relationship with him. Lainey had spent those months getting her salon prepared and decorated, finally she was finished. It was time for her party to celebrate the night before opening.

"Girl, you did a good ass job in here," Marcie exclaimed hugger her friend.

"Thank you, girl. I couldnt have done it without Benny. He was actually pretty helpful."

Marcie looked around. "Where is he anyway? I figired he might have been with Melissa but she's over there with your mom."

Lainey shrugged, "He said he had to pick up my gifts. He should be here in a little while though."

"Aaah, okay. So how does it feel to have your own salon? Its all yours, girl."

Lainey laughed, "Its not mine till I pay for it completely but I'm excited. I've wanted this for forever."

"What do you mean? Girl, I already know about it being paid off."

"What? No its not," Lainey frowned. "I haven't paid for this."

Charles crept up behind her smiling and spoke softly. "But I did."

Jumping, Lainey turned around with a smile on her face. She accepted his hug enjoying his arms around her then pulled away and hit his arm.

"Charles, did you really pay for this?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am, I did."

"But why? Charles, that's a lot of money."

"To you it might be," he replied moving a piece of hair from her face, "But to me no amount of money is too much. Think of it as a gift from your man."

Melissa came over at the end of his statement and nudged Marcie.

"Ooop, don't let Benny find out his lil baby got a man," she joked.

Marcie laughed, "That vein in his neck gon burst open in here."

Lainey flipped them off the turned back to Charles. "I dont know what to say but thank you. I'll pay it back."

Charles kissed her forehead, "Pay me back by letting me take you to dinner tomorrow after you close."

Lainey agreed just as his phone started to ring. He let her know he was going to step back into her office to take the call. While he was gone the ladies talked amongst each other and the other party goers. Tilda went to grab her niece's hand and led her over to her parents.

"We are so proud of you, babygirl. You've wanted this since you were young and you got it." Caleb reminisced. He moved in to hug her and for the first time in a while she didn't reject him.

Hanna was next, she squeeezed her daughter tight and rocked them from side to side before letting go. "You just don't know how happy and proud I am of you, little girl. And I didn't forget about my trip to Aruba either."

Lainey laughed and nodded. "Yes ma'am. You know Ima still take you."

Thirty minutes went by before Benny walked in with a big smile on his face. He cut the music down then gathered everybody around excitedly.

"You ready for ya gift, Lainey?" He asked.

"Yees! I been waiting all night for it."

Benny laughed, "Its only been an hour since the party started, drama queen. But I got you something that will make this evening feel complete. You ready?"

Lainey nodded wondering what her brother could have possibly gotten her. He had already made sure she had everything in the salon and then some. Benny told her and their mama to close their eyes then went to open the door.

"Aight, on the count of three open your eyes. Yall count with me."

....1

......2

........3

Mother and daughter opened their eyes and screamed. Cameron and Zion stood before them smiling. Cameron had to catch their mama from falling and pulled her into a hug. Lainey jumped on Zion holding onto him for dear life. Both women cried happy tears.

"My babies," Hanna called out. "Oh thank you, Jesus! My babies are all here!"

"We home, Ma," Cameron told her pulling away. "We home for good."

Lainey switched with her mama and hugged Cameron tight then went to hug Benny thanking him. The brothers hugged their father and aunt as the the party went back to normal. Melissa and Marcie stood off to the side watching the reunion.

"I see you," Melissa said filling her cup with punch.

"You see me what?"

"I see you looking at her brother. You over there undressing him with your eyes. For shame," she teased.

Marcie laughed nervously. "Oh whatever, I was just watching them hug. It was beautiful."

"You don't gotta lie to me."

"Look here, Ms. He said he breaks backs and I want him to break mine," Marcie spat playfully. "I'm married not blind."

"Mmmhmmm...not too much longer it looks like."

Finally done with his call, Charles rejoined the party and went straight to Lainey. He kissed her cheek letting her know he was back.

"Hey hey whoa. Who is you and why you kissing on my baby sister?" Cam asked quickly pulling his sister towards him and his brothers.

Zion wiped her cheek off and glared at him.

Benny laughed and he folded his arms across his chest. He told everybody he was nice brother, now they were about to find out one by one.

"My apologies, I'm Charles Frederickson. Nice to finally meet you two," Charles said with a genuine smile on his face.

"You the governor, ain't you?" Zion asked.

"Yeah," Charles nodded with a slight laugh, "That's me. And no I don't have more important shit to do. Your sister takes priority as long as it isn't life or death."

"Mmhm," Cameron mumbled. "So why are your lips on my sister?"

Benny jumped in, "He call himself with a thing for her. She been talkin to him a lot."

"Hmm, is that so?" Zion asked.

"Benny's right, I definitely have a thing for your sister. I asked her to make things official bit ahe said I had to go through the three of you first. So," Charles chuckled, "This time is as good as any. I'd love to date your siste, make things official. Can I have your blessing?"

Cameron and Zion stared at him and Benny answered. "Give us some time to think about it. We'll let you know, man."

"Fair enough," He nodded. "I'm gonna go grab some food and let you yall catch up. Lainey, come find me when you're done."

Charles smiled at her before walking off. Lainey started to follow him but Cam pulled her back.

"Bring ya lil hot ass back here. Where he come from?"

Lainey shrigged still smiling. "I met him when I did the Firat Lady and her family's hair. Isn't he sweet?"

"No," all three brothers answered.

"Look at you all giddy and blushing," Zion said, "Uhn uhn, we gotta check him out first. Aint no fool taking advantage our our baby."

Lainey pouted looking at her brother. "Don't run him away like yall did the other boys. That's why nobody wanted to date me, they was scared of yall."

"Anybody that got scared by us being normal big brothers ain't good enough for you," Benny assured her kissing her head.

Lainey folded her arms, "Yall always threatened to shoot them."

"Okay and?" Cam asked shrugging.

After the party was over, Lainey and her siblings stayed behind to clean everything up. Charles, Marcie and Melissa offered to help but were denied. The clean up was almost finshed when the door chimed and opened.

"Who the fuck," Benny's voice trailed off seeing their estranged sister standing there. "What is your ass doing here, Candace?"

"Nice to see you to, B." She laughed. "Ooh Cam, Zion, yall are out. Good to see yall too. It's been years."

Lainey stepped forward, "He asked you a question. Why are you here? You know you're not welcome around us."

Candace sucked her teeth, "No need for the attitude, Alaina. I jist wanted to come see my family and congratulate you."

"Uhuh, you've seen is and said your peace. Leave." Lainey demanded.

Candace looked around the salon and whistled lowly. "This is nice. I wonder what or who you had to do to get this."

"I'm not you, I worked legitimately for this, Candace."

"You're right about one thing. You're not me and could never be me, little girl. You're just a reject."

Benny pulled his little sister behind him knowing she was about to pounce. His older brothers watched the scene unfold, they wanted to see how Benny handled it. They knew he'd grown into an even better man than he was before he went to jail. He'd been handling everything in his own for years now and they were proud.

"Leave and don't bring ya ass back here or anywhere near us. You know I don't repeat myself, now go before I let her beat ya ass lies she did last time."

Candace scrunched her nose up at him and started to back away laughing. "No need to be so hostile, I just wanted to give yall a gift "

"Leave," Benny barked loudly.

Candace noddee and headed towards the door. She stepped out then stepped back in with her son. She pushed him towards them with a scowl on her face.

"Since yall moved out the hood and doing better figured yall would want that. Have him," she shrugged the turned to leave.

Lainey rushed to the the five year old and picked him up. "Lil Q, baby. Where have you been?"

He looked at her stragely for a second. "I dont know."

"Do you remember me?"

Taking a few moments to stare at her, he slowly started to nod and smile formed on his face. "Auntie!"

The brothers watched the moment with mixed feelings. They were glad their nephew was back with them nut they knew Camdace wasn't just giving him to them to be nice. She was planning something and they were going to figure out what.

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Set Me Ablaze

Words: 3643

Genre: smut, slight angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Kai x reader

A/N: Part 2 of Playing With Fire

And happy Birthday, cousin (part 1)

"What--" You blink, gaping at him like a fish. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

Jongin stands at the open door, a bucket hat pulled low over his face that was covered by a mask. You can only see his eyes but it's enough as you demand, "How'd you even find this place?" 

He rolls his eyes. "We may not be in technologically advanced Korea but I can pay someone to find out your friend's flat, Y/N." 

He pushes past you and enters, leaving you to close the door in bafflement. You turn towards him and cross your arms.

"Stop lying," you say, blankly, noticing how he wasn't meeting your gaze, a tell-tale sign. "You know I live here." 

He looks up at you then. "I know. I just said that so you wouldn't freak out and run away again." 

"You lying freaks me out, Jongin," you admit wryly. "Don't lie for my peace of mind. In all our years together, it was the one thing you never did. Don't... don't change that too." 

"Too?" He was silent as he listened but at the last statement, he raises an eyebrow. "So you think I've changed?"

It's your turn to stay silent now. 

Jongin steps forward, eyes trained on you. "How have I changed? In a good way or a bad way?" 

At this, you raise your eyes to glare at him. Your tone is sharp as you snap, "I don't know, Jongin, all we had was a quick fuck and not exactly a heart-to-heart conversation so how the hell should I know about that?" 

A shuffling noise sounds to your left and you turn in that direction to see Sera tossing on your couch where she had passed out last night in a drunken heap.

"We can change that," you hear his voice say softer now, your gaze shifting back to him. Jongin's eyes search your face as he says, "We got the quick fuck out of the way so now let's... have a heart-to-heart." 

"I don't--" You started loudly before stopping and glancing at Sera who whined in her sleep, throwing the blanket over her head. Sighing, you mumbled in exasperation, "I don't have anything to say to you, Jongin. I'm too exhausted to even see you to the door so please just leave." 

You don't wait for a response and turn to head for your bedroom. You push the door open and make a beeline for the bed, climbing on top of the pillows.

"Y/N." 

You look up to see Jongin standing at your door, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes watch you. You curl your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the oversized tee that you were wearing to cover whatever you could although it was pointless--if you pulled anymore, you're sure the material would rip. 

Your eyes absentmindedly rake over Jongin, a similar plain tee hanging over his frame. You couldn't see the bucket hat and mask anywhere and you assumed he'd left it on the table or somewhere else in the living room.  

In all the time that you'd spent together, you'd always loved seeing Jongin's bare no-makeup face. After all the hectic schedules and the few days that you got together--fewer still when you two didn't argue--it was one of your favourite things: to wake up to his sleeping natural face. You'd always felt lucky to be one of the few that got to see it.

And now, after last night, you felt that same feeling as you see him now without all the eyeshadow, lip tint and blemish-free makeup. 

Still so beautiful.

You swallow thickly. "Aren't you going to leave?" 

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. "Are you going to leave? Which country will it be this time?" 

You don't say anything, suddenly feeling small at the way he was glaring at you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

"I hate that you did that," Jongin admits, his voice sounding strained with pain. Your eyes are focused on his as he continues, "It hurt more than anything you ever said to me. I'm not a stalker, Y/N, you don't... you don't have to be afraid of me. I stopped searching for you after the second time, when I ran into you at Thailand and you left that night itself. That wasn't even intentional, by the way. I had a photoshoot and running into you at that market was the last thing on my mind." 

Your eyes blur at his confession and you blink quickly, feeling a lump form in your throat. There was a dull ache in your chest as you imagined all the things that could have run through his mind at your antics. 

"I didn't--" You stop, clearing your throat. "I didn't do it cause I was afraid of you, Jongin. I did it cause I was afraid that I would run back to you. I needed time... and space. It was all I could think of." 

"Besides," you added, glancing at him. "The reason I left that night itself was cause I'd only arrived a few days prior. I hadn't even unpacked yet so it was easier to leave. It's not cause I was that adamant to leave. Or cause I was afraid of you. Or thought you were a stalker." 

The words hang in the air between you two uselessly and you want to say something to make it better but you know there isn't anything much to say. Tears prick at your eyes at the realisation that you had hurt him by running away. You'd never given him an explanation, not when you left your shared apartment nor at Japan or Thailand. As much as it hurt, he deserved at least an explanation. Some form of closure. 

Jongin was watching your face and as if he could read your mind, he asked softly, "Did it help?" 

You blink. "What?" 

"All the running you did. Did it help? Are you happy now?" He hesitated. "Happy over me?" 

Your heart crumbled. You felt your lower lip quiver and Jongin immediately strode forward, grabbing your hands as you tried not to cry.

"No," you choked out, shaking your head as you stared at your joined hands. "I'm not, you idiot. It killed me everytime I saw you plastered across some magazine and billboard but seeing you at the concert last night was hell. I thought it wouldn't hurt but it did and it only got worse after I left the club."

You felt Jongin still at that, his fingers tightening around yours. "So you regret it then?" 

You raise your head to look at him and he prodded, "You regret what happened last night at the club?" 

You sniffled, your voice soft as you reply, "Only cause I had to leave." 

"No one asked you to," he defended. "You didn't have to leave, Y/N." 

You're already shaking your head, starting to say, "You know I had to--" 

"No." His tone is firm and final that it stops the words at your throat as he continues, "No, I don't know if you had to. What I know is that I hated you for leaving. I always imagined you leaving that day, how much you must have despised me that you left me with an empty apartment to come home to, no explanation or even a note. And yesterday, I saw it." 

"Jongin--" 

"I'm not over you, Y/N," he admitted, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know you're not either. I thought I was fine but when I saw you last night, I wanted you. Not just for a 'quick fuck' either. I need you."

You're already shaking your head. "Jongin, we can't--" 

"I know," he cut you off yet again. "I know I wasn't the perfect boyfriend. I know I hurt you more than I loved you and I want to fix that, Y/N. I'm sorry that I made you run. I know that's on me. I regretted all the words I said, all the things I did and didn't do, all the times I made you cry and I still do." 

His hands clasp yours tightly, long fingers intertwining with yours. 

"Just give us another chance," he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. "We can make this work. I know we can. I can't let you leave again, Y/N. Not without trying, at least." 

"We're too toxic," you breathed out weakly. "We can't keep hurting each other." 

"You only hurt me when you left. You only left when I hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you again." 

"You're like fire, Jongin." You look up at him then, teary eyes meeting his. "I burn when I'm with you and I yearn for you when I'm away. I can't keep doing that to myself."

He's silent as he stares at you. "Give me a chance to make it right and I promise you won't have to burn or yearn for me. I'll be right here."

You feel the tears roll down your cheeks and before they can fall down your face, Jongin's lips are on them, soft feather kisses to wipe away the pain. 

You feel the last of your resolve slip away as your hand reaches up to gingerly touch his cheek, turning his mouth to yours. You can taste your tears on him as he presses his lips to yours, hand snaking to the back of your neck. You grip his sleeve tightly, the light cotton bunching up in your fingers as you sit up on your knees, leaning forward into him and kissing him fervently. You feel your heart swell as if it was your first kiss with him and you realise that in a way, it is--a new beginning.

Jongin takes your shoulders and gently pushes you, making you fall back onto your pillows. You close your eyes and sigh softly as he makes a trail of kisses from your forehead down your nose, to your cheeks and finally your lips. Right as you arch your back to kiss him harder, he pulls away to bury his face in your neck. You moan softly as you feel his mouth suck on the soft flesh under your ear, his circling tongue sending pangs of arousal straight to your throbbing core.

You grab his shoulders and with a burst of strength, roll him off you. Jongin falls back in surprise, eyes wide as you sit up and throw your leg over his waist to straddle him. 

He breathes your name in a soft whisper as you press your chest against his, hands cupping his face. His fingers are gripping your sides, feeling like fire on your bare hips where they've slipped underneath your shirt. 

Your own hands are tugging at his collar and he sits up slightly, helping you yank it off his head. Your eyes immediately fall on the darkening hickeys, scattered across his throat, collar and down to his chest. You raise your hand to it and freeze as he hisses when your nail slightly scrapes over a particularly purplish-looking one right at the crook of his neck. 

"Proud of yourself?" Jongin asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

You shake your head, running your fingers over them lightly. "I didn't think they would become this... purple." 

"Well, you weren't exactly gentle last night." 

"Oh shut up, you bruise like a peach." At Jongin's chuckle, you smile before saying honestly, "I'm sorry. You'll probably get into trouble with the staff when they notice it--" 

"Y/N," he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and he grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your neck. You blink at him as you feel the cool air of your room hit your bare torso. 

"It's fine," he reassured you, kissing you softly. "Mark me as much as you wish cause I'm not going anywhere." 

You loop your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him flush against your chest as you feel his warm skin on yours. He grips the back of your hair tightly and you push him back down on the pillows so that you could lay atop him.

Jongin's fingers grip your hips, your own lightly and teasingly tracing a path down the side of his face to his neck and over his chest. He moans into your mouth, grabbing your hand to stop the torture and you can't help but smile into the kiss as you roll your hips against his, feeling that familiar bulge poke into you. The thin material of your panty sticks to you as you grind harder against him, greedily wanting more. 

Jongin's hands fly back up to your hips and in a second, he has you rolled back on the bed until you're up against the headboard and he is kneeling in between your spread thighs. 

"I think that's enough teasing for now, babe," he said, dropping his head to your neck, licking up to your ear. You grip his arms and arch your back into him, throwing your head back against the headboard to grant him more access. You close your eyes, moaning as you feel his fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the bud in between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand slips under the side of your panty, curling his finger around it as he slowly drags it down your thighs. 

Your hands wrap around the back of his head as his lips latch onto your breast, his wet tongue and warm mouth making you a writhing mess under him. You don't realise you'd moaned out 'Kai' until you feel him smirk against your chest, raising his head to you. 

"I love that you still switch to Kai when we're having sex," he murmurs, kissing your chin. 

You grip his purple locks tightly in your fingers as you kiss him. 

"You know its cause you get the same look that you do when you're performing," you mutter against his lips as your hands move down his chest to the waistband of his shorts, already unbuttoning and yanking down the zipper. 

Jongin starts moving his head lower, his lips at your navel now and you grab his face, shaking your head at him. 

"Not now," you say, kissing his nose. "Later." 

"Impatient, are we?" 

"Jongin, I swear--" 

He chuckles, finally taking off the panty from around your ankles and flinging it across the room along with his shorts. He kisses you deeply then and you sink back into the pillows, feeling him poke at your entrance, no more barriers this time. 

You moan softly, spreading your legs wider around his hips and he groans as he slides easily into you.

"God, baby, you're so wet for me," he breathes, his lips near your ear as you feel him stretch you out. 

A soft breath escapes your mouth and you place your hands on his back, rolling your hips into him as he fills you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you use your feet to pull him into you as close as possible, wanting to feel every single inch.

"Fuck, I love it when you do that," Jongin groaned as you clench around him, hot breath hitting your neck. "Fuck, babe, Y/N." 

Your name leaves his mouth in a draggy moan that makes your stomach twist in an all-too familiar way. You raise your one hand to the back of his head, holding it in place as you kiss his ear. 

Your hips move with his, both of your bodies connected in a way that you didn't know where he started and where you ended. You could feel the sweat on your back as his warmth smothered you but you didn't care--you loved how your body was burning underneath him, how his scent that you'd missed so much was engulfing your senses, how his purple hair brushed your face, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose onto your face, plush lips meeting yours occasionally as he thrusts into you. 

He may be fire but right now, he was setting you ablaze. 

And you loved it. 

Jongin moves his hands from your sides and places them on either side of your head. Your eyes are hazy as you watch him hold himself above you, hips thrusting into you deeply. 

You maintain the eye-contact as you arch your back, pressing your breasts to him and gripping his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin while you roll your hips into him, meeting each of his thrusts with your own. 

Hr groans again as your bodies move together like a perfectly synchronised dance and you hear his breaths get shorter, your heart pounding dully in your ears as the sound of skin slapping and moans echo around you. 

With nails that are certainly leaving crescent-shaped marks into his skin, you close your eyes as you feel him thrusting faster and harder. You hear the sound of the headboard banging against the wall echo as he pounds into you and he latches his lips onto your throat when you clench around him. 

Jongin's hips stutter against yours, and you moan aloud, eyes snapping open as your head spins with the orgasm that crashes over your body. Your legs are numb around him and he thrusts twice more before you feel him flood inside you, coating your walls with his warmth.

You fall back on the bed, Jongin collapsing on top of you, hand finding yours and intertwining with your fingers. Sweat sticks to both your bodies and as he shifts, you feel the cum seep out, dripping down your slit onto the sheets. 

"Y/N," he breathes your name in the softest whisper as if he doesn't want even the air around you to be disturbed. 

You hum in response, feeling it reverberate between your chests pressed together and its only then that you realise your hearts are probably pounding against each other's. 

It makes you smile but not as much as what Jongin says next,

"I'm sorry for burning you. I promise you that the only time I'll set you on fire is when we do what we just did." 

You start giggling then, unable to control it and he raises his head to grin cheekily at you. 

"I'm serious, though," he mutters, booping your nose cutely with his. "I'm sorry. I won't burn you anymore. I'll make it right this time, I'll burn you with only my love." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, shaking your head at him fondly. You trace his lips with your forefinger and he kisses it gently, his eyes shining with a silent sincere apology underneath the jokes.

And in that moment, you know that it'll be okay even if it didn't turn out well. Because with Jongin's subtle confession, you knew that you wouldn't go anywhere. 

Not without giving this a second chance. 

Because he was a fire that you couldn't help being drawn to. A fire that you loved. 

And this time, like he said, you'd try to make it right. 

You smile and open your mouth to respond when you suddenly hear the familiar sound of a doorknob turning. 

Your eyes shoot wide open and your hand reaches out, grabbing the covers just in time to throw it over the both of you as Sera pokes her head in. 

"Okay, I don't remember a lot of last night," she announces, walking in and holding her hand to her head. "But I do remember you going missing and a few bits and pieces of us getting home but--" 

She stops talking when she's right at the foot of the bed, her eyes trained on Jongin who's staring at her. 

Sera blinks once, twice and laughs, "Wow, what the fuck did I drink last night, I'm clearly still drunk, haha--" 

She cuts herself off by slapping her own face and Jongin takes this moment to roll off of you onto the side, pulling the covers over his head. 

Sera watches in silence, eyes wide as she gawks at you. 

"Was that--?" she stops, blinking. "Did you just fuck Kai? EXO's Kai? Kim fucking Jong--" 

"I'll explain later," you reassure her, holding the covers to your chest as you plead with your eyes. "Just please leave for now, I swear I'll tell you everything."

Sera hesitates before nodding in a daze and turns, retreating to the door. You wait with bated breath and its only when the door closes that you turn to Jongin still hiding beneath the covers. 

You yank the sheet down from his face, rolling your eyes. "You can come out n--"

"Hey!" 

You whip around as Sera pokes her head inside.

"We've established that you just slept with EXO's Kai," she announces chirpily, smiling widely at Jongin who is frozen beside you. "I have just one question for you: is Baekhyun single?" 

Jongin blinks. "Um. As of for now, yes." 

"Fantastic," she comments, grinning. "I'll leave now. You kids can get dressed and then we can discuss my date with Baekhyun that you two are going to help set up if you want me to be quiet about this after some coffee and breakfast, all right? Don't take too long!" 

She closes the door again, and Jongin turns to you with a fearful expression.

You shake your head, laughing. "She's just joking, she's my best friend. Don't worry about it. She loves Baek, is all." 

"He'll kill me if she's a crazy fan or something." 

"Nah, she's great. They'd be cute together." 

"They better be or I'll tell him you're responsible," he grumbles as he starts to get up. 

You laugh and just like that, you feel as if the entire world has been reset, Jongin back at your side and you by his. 

It's a new beginning.

And you wouldn't burn out this time. 

[kay-is-krazy]

Literally No Title

Please help

Idk what I’m doing

This is a fanfic

Deanxreader kinda

It needs work sorry

I will hashtag

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Damp. Everything that surrounds you is damp. As you start to come to, you smell the stench. Sulfar. Confused, you try to open your eyes, brows furred as the light tries to chase away your sight. Your adrenaline pushes you to figure out where you are. Looking around weerily, you notice the familiar iron door. Your parents old farmhouse storm cellar. Opening and closing your eyes making sure this is what you're actually seeing. It's been years. Decades even since you've seen these walls. Theyre different now. Moldy, but with cobwebs. You start to realize you're strapped down on the old iron table you used to eat spaghettios on when the tornados hit. No use in trying to squirm your way to topple over. Your father bolted it down in the cement. How did you get here. As you push and strain yourself to remember, the door opens. A tall red flannel emerges, and you go cold...

Life wasn't always fighting monsters, and saving people. You had a family of your own, until the vampire mafia ripped in to town destroying everything in their path, including your home and everyone in it. You still remember their screams as you fled into the woods. Revenge is a choice you have to make, and it sure was a hell of a ride. In this life, you run into auhtorities, but very little hunters like yourself. After bumping into the Winchesters working a werewolf case, they sort of took you under their wing. Noticing you needed guidance, before you ever could. You were in constant rage, before meeting the boys. Searching for answers, and never being satisfied with the kill. It all blurred into a blood bath of vengence. A lot of trust, losses, and whiskey, but you found a new family. You need them as much as they need you. And just recently, it was Dean needing saving.

The mark had completely consumed him. Being the hero, the guinea pig, has led him to be desperate in saving the world. You knew he was always staying strong, putting on a good face for Sam, but deep down, he is slightly broken like the rest of you. His hope depleted as the mark's strength took over his judgement. He was like you were before they saved you, scared and fuming with anger. You're just trying to return the favor before he hurts anyone else, especially his brother Sam.

After months of research, you found something. Slight chance of hope in fixing Dean. Confiding in Sam, he decides to look for it himself. The word of God. Once touched by a demon, it is said to purify them. No one has seen it in over 100 years, but you got a lead. The only thing that's near impossible is finding Dean. So time to draw him out... He wants a fight, you'll bring him a fight.

Scrounging up as many demons as possible, making sure they're alive but bleeding, you make a devils trap and wait. You heard through demon grapevine, that Dean can sniff them out. He's the big bad now. Being a demon himself, he hates them even more, if that makes sense.

But your plan didn't work. There have been plenty of close calls while working on the job, but this wasn't just a regular monster case. It was so much more, and there's a lot at stake. You realize why you're scared. You're in a situation even you can't get out of alive. Fear sets in as Dean walks closer. Each step like a predator closing in on it's prey. That red shirt, being even more red than usual.

He smirks, “Welcome back sunshine. Thought I killed you too soon”.

Your head is pounding as you try to look at your body. Realizing its broken, bruised, and bloodied, you must have put up a fight.

“Oh that, sorry, I couldn't help myself. After I knocked you out, I had some fun.” Your heart is beating so fast as if it is going to jump out of your body. The last thing you want is for him to see you afraid. You try to muffle out his name, but your voice is hoarse. “Please don't speak, I don't want my ears to bleed as you plead with me.... or on the other hand, I'd love to hear you beg for your life”, he whispers the last part in your face.

Wincing at his words, you turn your head, and say “You're not you right now. We'll fix this, Dean.”

He puts his hands on your chin, for a second you think it's him. His oversized, warm strong hands that wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was unnatural.The ones who taught you martial arts, and the ever so famous air guitar. But looking into his eyes, noticing they are lacking the softness, they flicker, and those green eyes are no longer. Black eyes, and his hands smell of sulfar. “There's nothing to fix sweetheart, I'm better than ever.” he jerks his hand away making your head turn to face him. As he walks to the door to open it, you yell out, “Just get it over with and kill me already!” He stops, turns his head just so you can see his profile, and scoffs. Walking out, and leaving you alone once again.

Wondering where Sam is, you try to squirm free from being tied up.Your fastens on your wrist have some wiggle room. Using the pointiness of your sister's ruby class ring on your left hand, you try to cut the leather bands. It's going to take hours, but you're not giving up yet. You know there are only two ways out of this, and you'll be damed if you don't fight.

'Pour some sugar on me' plays from your cell phone. Sam's calling you, the signature ringtone for drunk, fun Sam. Reminding you of the nights at the roadhouse, playing the same G43 on the old jukebox driving Dean insane. While Sammy and you sang until your voices were unrecognizable.

The door opens, and you straighten up, not making a move to let Dean know you've been trying to break free. There's a cart that he's pushing inside, full of old kitchen utensils, some tools from a shed, and a few of Dean's things from the trunk of his Impala that have been missing since the mark took him over.

“I know you and Sam have been looking for me, trying to save me. I'm going to show you how much I don't want or need you two around. Lets send Sammy a message, hm?” He walks over to your jacket with your cellphone in it. Dean throws it in the air and catches it. Holding it like a gun, making fake noises pretending to shoot you. “Glad to see you havent lost your adolescent behavior”, you say, “I know you're still in there Dean”.

He puts your phone down on the cart, picking up a rusty knife used for cutting fish. “But I'm not, and I'm going to prove to you just how wrong you are about me.” He cuts your cheek, and you feel the skin break open, stinging.

“You can hurt me all you want, you'll just be hurting yourself.” You say and spit in his face. The dark smirk scurries from his face, and you know what's coming next is worst.

The torture that he tortured you with only stems from Hell. Picture after picture taken and sent to Sam. The laughing, the darkness, and the insults coming from him, you start to lose hope that Dean is even in there. You keep reminding yourself that demons lie. Not believing anything DemonDean says, even though you desperately want it to be true. The remarks about how he used to think about you like a little sister until a couple years ago when you got stood up on a date with some guy named Brett. Thinking back from a different perspective now, you realize Dean was the one there who saved you from getting kicked out of the restaurant for using up a table. Waiting for some loser you met online, but seeing Dean sitting down across from you, feeling a sense of clarity and sureness. But now ever since he's turned into something evil, he doesn't feel a thing at all for you or Sam.

In and out of consiousness, you decide you wouldn't give up on him. Even though your body is mangled, you keep pushing.

“Dean, this isn't the path your mother would have wanted. You have to know that. You don't want to let her down or she'd died for nothing.” You plead and try, but he slaps you hard in the face. The hit seemed personal, as if you were getting somewhere with him. You reason, “Isn't family what brings people together, it's what brought us together. Aren't we family, you could let me go, and Sam and I can help you see the light again. Just like your mom used to say right? The light will guide you home. Come home Dean!” Another blow to your head. He knocks you out again.

As you come to, Dean is reaching for the blade. He's actually going to use it on you, kill you. Coming to terms with your fate, you start to hum and mumble 'simple man by lynryd skynrd'. It was always your favorite. It was everyones favorite. You figured it was a good enough song to go out to. You peek open your eyes as much as you can. Throbbing and seeping blood, you're finally able to see Dean stop and stare at you. He drops the blade, looking down at the mark and then back at you. His face twisted, unsure of what is reality. You don't stop singing. Second verse, he's closer now. A single tear rolling down your face; knowing if he ever came back, got the mark off, he wouldn't forgive himself. Even when he's unable to save someone on a job, he's hard on himself. You can't imagine what he'll feel like, so you pity him.

He's closer now, hands around your throat. He's trying to fight you and himself. The pain and anger in his eyes turns black, then normal again. You look him straight in those familiar faint green eyes, and say your final words, “I forgive you.” The world goes dark.

Heaven was always described as 'your own personal paradise'. You're wondering why yours is in a hospital. White walls and curtains. The coldness in your nose suprises you. Who knew paradise would be so cold, gray, and foggy. Nothing was easy to make out, but you could definitely tell it was a hospital. You hate hospitals, confused as to why you're heaven isn't what you expected, you look around to see if there is a recognizable face. Hoping for maybe your Dad, Mom, or sister.

No one. There's a loud beeping noise and you look up to see a monitor. Looks like the vitals of a dead man. You start to wonder maybe God put you in the wrong paradise. So you pray. But words don't come out, and you drift back into the dark.

Blinking once, then twice, then several times. The light is bright. You can tell it's daytime. Still the same Heaven as before, but this time you feel everything. The pain, the tenderness. You remember, and know that you're not dead. Relieved, but still uncertain, you try to move. Expecting straps to hold you back, your right arm goes flying in the air. Not used to being free. You look down at your body. It's bandaged and braced. A mountain of a man peeks through the curtains. You have instant relief when you recognize Sam. He has the 'poor puppy eyes' look, and you put your hand on his. He grips it tight, but gentle enough. The gentle giant. Trying to let out a smile, a shadow lurks behind Sam. Instant fear as you realize it's Dean. Panic sets in, and your body cannot handle it. The monitors go off, you see Sam try to calm you down, and Dean sneaking away, head down, disgraced with himself. Nurses rush in with the Doctor to make sure you're okay. Tears well up in your eyes. You somehow cannot forget what Dean has done to you.

Weeks in the hospital, the only visitor you had was Sam. Trying to keep your spirits up, he shows you all of his research following up on possible cases. Between playing cards, reading books, and making fun of the new Taylor Swift song, you ask Sam, “How is he?”, and each answer is the same. “No better, no worse,” Sam replies. After the panic attack, Dean thought it best if he didn't show his face anymore to you. Once healed, you were allowed to go home as long as you didn't saw off the leg brace, and practice using the crutches. Knowing how stubborn you are, Sam rolled his eyes, and promised to watch over you.

Happy to finally break out, you laugh as you fumble with the crutches. Sam lets out a worrisome smile. “I'm fine Sam. Really.” You look up to him and give him a carefree toothy grin. Throwing all of your things into the impala, because Sam refused to drive “that stupid pink truck”, you beg Sam to let you pick the music.

Pulling up to the bunker, your stomach sinks a little. You know you'll have to face Dean eventually. Fogiving is easy for you, but forgetting is a whole other learning curve. Never being the one to admit you're wrong first, or facing real problems, you know it's somehting that needs to be worked on. Staring off into the distance a bit, Sam pulls you out of it as he opens the door. “We're stocked up on all your favorite foods, drinks, and even have Netflix!” He says, nudging you arm and attempting a playful laugh.

Weeks of healing, you finally are able to get up into your truck. You need some air, and desperately needed to get away. The outside world was calling your name, so were the pink wheels on that old ford. First hours, days, then weeks went by, and not a single glance from Dean. No words, no contact. Ignored you completely. Anytime you tried to reach him, asking to grab a drink at the dirty bird bar, to researching a simple ghost job, he pushed you away. You spent so much time in your room with your thoughts. Trying not to think about the event that almost ended you, and most importantly the relationship with Dean. Even Sammy has started treating you differently like you're broken. After Sam telling you to stay home again, while they hunt monsters, you'd had enough. Weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods. You leave your phone on your nighstand and decide you need some peace to clear your mind.

“Fill her up,” you say shutting off your truck to get gas. Getting out to grab snacks from inside, a long lost friend appears. Not able to look away from the light, he shields your eyes for you. You forgot how enchanthing the bright white was. “Cas what are you doing here?” You ask as you looks at you stearnly.

“I was told to keep a tab on you, and you left the bunker. So I'm here to bring you back.” He says reaching for your arm.

“Under who's orders?!” You demand. Not letting him answer you back away and say, “The boys? Really can't even get some fresh air!” Clearly angry, you hit your tailgate. Cas immediatley lays his hands on you to heal you. Being an angel has it's perks. But you wanted to feel something, Cas didn't exactly understand what being human was really like.

Brushing his hand away, you try to reason with him. “Go back to the bunker, grab my phone, and bring it to me. That way I have it on me in case I need anything. I'm still going on my very needed trip. What I don't need is a babysitter” Before you could blink twice, Cas had your phone in hand. “Do not turn this off and always keep this on you.” Rolling your eyes you respond sarcastically, “Thanks Dad. Can I leave now?” Clearly unsure of his decision, Cas side eyes you, but finally nods, and leaves you to your road trip snacking.

The cabin is the same as you left it two summers ago. A couple empty beers scattered, but the rest of the place in neat tidy order. Your mom always liked everything in a specific spot, and you try your best to remember that while staying there. Picking up the bottles to recycle them, you smile and remember the good times spent here with your family, both families. Thinking about the boys, you let out a sigh of relief. Thanking the angels that Sam showed up when he did in the storm cellar that day. The word of God being forcefully put in Dean's hands, purifying him instantly. A bright gold light shining through the brick like object, blasting Dean into Sam. His brother holding onto Dean as he comes to and realizes, he's saved. Sam's words will stay with you forever, that story will stay with you forever. You smile as you remember, you were the one who stalled Dean as Sam had come to the rescue.

“Oh shit!” You say as your line tugs and gets stronger. You were too busy admiring the cotton candy sunset to see your fishing line got a bite. It was a warm afternoon, but turning brisk fast. Fall was settling in, you could tell as the wing picked up every now and then. The trees leaves turning the auburn colors. Setting your beer down, you reel it in, but your bait is completely gone.

“You never were good at fishing.” You quickly stand from a lousy folded plastic chair, and turn around to find Dean, smiling at your loss. Clearly shocked, you ask “What are you doing here? Cas told you didn't he. Lousy friend.”

You put your pole down, and open the cooler to offer Dean a beer. He takes it and slowly sits down on the edge of the dock, feet dangling. You sit down next to him, opening your own beer. “Where's Sam?” you ask.

“Working the case still.” He notices your cocked eyebrow from a side glance. As if he would ever leave Sammy alone, he continues, “It's easy, just some pyscho vengeful ghost.” He sips his beer, straring at the now setting sun.

Getting straight to it, you ask, “Why are you here Dean?” Staring at him, you notice the weariness.

He lowers his head, gripping his beer tight. You see his shoulders move up and down slowly. Sighing heavily, he looks at you, completely looks at you for the first time. It catches your breath, because you have never seen a man so broken, Dean so vulnerable. You can tell he's been fighting with himself, beating himself up over the events that took place. Defeated, face full of hatred for himself, he doesn't say a word. You see his jaw tighten, his temples twitching. Reaching for his shoulder to show trust, but he pulls away shaking his head. “I don't trust myself with you” He musters, as he stands up to walk toward the cabin. Thinking about chasing after him, forcing him to talk, but you can't move. Like cement, you stay planted in your spot. The sun finally sets, but you still sit there, listening to the sound of the frogs.

Grabbing your things from the dock, you head inside. What could you say to make him believe you. Would you believe yourself if you said, “Everything is okay.”? Is it? Inside, you notice Dean is cleaning up what seems to be like the bathroom mirror. Understanding what just happened, you bend down to help and he stops you. Gripping your hands tight, he says “No. You don't need to clean up my mess. Any of my messes.” With a dustpan, he walks to the trash to dump the shards of glass.

“What's that suppose to mean? Am I not allowed to care? To try to save you from yourself?” He winces at the last part.

Turning around to face you, but leaning against the kitchen counter, he looks at you cold and promises, “You will never have to save me again. I will never hurt you or anyone else again.” He looks down and then back up into your eyes, moving towards the door, “You wanna know why I'm here? I came here to say goodbye.”

Stopping him dead in his tracks, you look up at him wondering how you and Sam could even survive without Dean. You start to cry. It's not like you to let anything out, but you stand there, tears pouring out of your face. “No.” was all you could muster up. Very stearn, you said it again, “No.” He grabs you and pulls you in close. Hanging on to eachother, as if it's the last time.

You both stay like this awhile, not realizing it's way over due. “You're not leaving us. We won't let you.” you say confidently, and at this he lets go. He tenses again, trying to be strong, and insists “You and Sammy have to let me go. I've been nothing but trouble. I'm bad. I'm not worth your lives.” Clearly needing reassurance, but not knowing how, you yell, “I went through all of that for nothing?!” Talking with your hands like usual, brows furious now, you continue, “After everything, you still think you're not worth it? Sam and I have done everything for you, for us, for this family.”

He turns his back on you holding back tears, but instead letting out his frustration, “You don't what it's like to need constant saving. I need control of myself, I don't have control.” He yells as he punches the wall. It startles you.

“Oh, I don't know what it's like?” you start, “You don't think that I was ever at a low in my life. What losing my family did to me, the things I did in return. It wasn't until you and your brother, that I finally found solace!” you scoff, “Please you're not the only broken one around here.” Realizing that anger isn't the route to go down, you quietly move toward him. Pushing back the fear that has been dormant, you hold his hand. “We are family.” you say softly. “Family doesnt end in blood.” You wipe away the blood trickling from his knuckle with your shirt.

His hands are shaking now, as he holds them up inching closer to your neck. You flinch, and he tries to pull away. You immediatley grab his hands, and put them to your cheeks, making his squish them together a little. Tears welling up in your eyes, you let out a low, “i'm a little guppy...” It was something you two always did to cheer eachother up. Getting the other to laugh when you're both at a low point has been almost like a game. So far, he's beeing in the lead. Before you can finish, his lips are on yours. Waves of heat roll from your head to your toes, your wet cheeks brushing his scruff, and you give in, even being scared and uncertain. Dean pulls away, looks at you stearn, and says “I'm going to miss you.”

You're still standing not sure of what just happened, and you hear the door slam shut. It seemed as though your feet wouldn't move, but then you finally took a deep breath, turned around and bolted out the door. He was getting in the impala, but before he could jet off, you opened that door and ripped him out. Standing toe to toe, you slap him. That bottled rage unleashes. Then you connect your fist to his face. Unprepared, Dean fell against the car. Shocked at how hard you hit, he starts to realize you're not going to stop, so he holds your hands down. Red in the face from anger, and him red because well there's now blood pouring from his nose, you finally relax so he loosens his rains on you.

“What was that?!” You ask. “Who do you think you are? That is not okay. I am not okay.” Turning around, hands on your hips, shaking your head. Instantly defensive, you gasp, turn to face him, and make sure he knows, “I am not like every other girl. I don't deserve to be treated like any other girl.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you immediatley talk over him, “You're going to have to kill me.” Dean looks at you clearly confused. “Why do I have to kill you?”

Walking back and forth now, you respond, “Over my dead body...You're not walking out on us. Not Sammy, not me. Not our future. People need us, they need you.” Stopping, and turning to face Dean, you say, “I need you. And if you get in that impala, you better have shot me first because I won't stop looking for you.” Walking toward him now, pointing your finger in his chest, you end with “I refuse to give up on you.” At that, he looks down at you, smirks, and responds, “You're stubborn, you know that?” You break a smile, and say “I learned from the best.” Throwing you over his shoulder, he walks into the cabin.

Completely surprised as to what took place last night, you turn around and look at Dean's green eyes. Understanding now, the feelings that were dormant for so long. Realizing now that DemonDean only told the truth to hurt you.You put your hand to his face, brushing his cheek with the back of your finger, and he closes his eyes to just feel your touch. “You're not allowed to leave.” He nods, reaches for your hand with his, and lightly kisses your fingers. “I will never forgive myself...” He says, and you respond instantly, with your pointer finger shooshing his lips, “I forgive you, and will continue to remind you that you're the good guy.” Closing your eyes, thinking about the first time meeting these boys, not knowing how they would change your life for the better, you smile. He rolls you over with ease, and tucks you in close to his warm naked chest. Deep, and grunting, he says your name into your hair. You lift your head a little to let him know you're listening, “hm?” “I don't deserve this” he says, “I don't deserve you.” You respond while picking his hand up moving it closer to your chest, “Neither do I.”

[eachainn]

prompt for toz tob au Michael and Muse get in a loud argument over what he did and blows up into saying that Mikleo isn't his nephew and just a damned malak. Mikleo is distressed.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TALES OF BERSERIA.

“Michael, wait!”

Michael tensed his shoulders at his sister’s shout. He was tempted to turn around, it was a familiar pattern after all. She had always been the one that he had turned to, even when he had gotten back from his failure to change the world. It didn’t matter that he had never been able to tell her everything, but Muse seemed to understand him. Outside of Lailah, his sister was one of the only people he could confide in.

But that had been ruined, because she knew now.

“Michael!”

He rolled his shoulders forward, focusing on walking through the earthpulse. It didn’t matter where he was going, because the earthpulse could theoretically go on forever. He could get lost in the twists and turns and no one would be able to find him. Michael didn’t even care that there were creature lurking in the earthpulse. He was sure that they would avoid him to.

“MICHAEL!” A hand landed on his shoulder, Michael surprised as he was jerked around.

His eyes widened as he found himself staring at his sister. He glanced down at the hand on his shoulder, fully expecting to see her monstrous hand clamped down on his shoulder, ready to devour him.

Some of his shock must have shown on his face because Muse pushed him away roughly, disgust on her face. “Like I would do that. You’re my brother.”

“I deserve it.”

Muse raised her hands, looking like she was going to reach forward and strangle him for a moment before she dropped her hands to the side. “I want to…” She took a deep breath and a step back. “I need to you explain.”

“You saw it.”

“I know what I saw. And know where it comes from. This is Innominat’s body. And I want the truth.”

“You saw the truth.”

“I SAW A LIE!” Muse raked her hands through her hair, not seeming to care that the motion made the bandage flutter away from her left arm. “I saw something that I can’t make sense of and I need you to tell me-”

“Muse-”

“Please. You’re my brother. You’re one of the few people I can trust. And we don’t…we don’t have too many people left. And I just need to know…why?”

Michael glanced up at her face, unable to stand the tears in his sister’s eyes. He dropped his gaze, finding himself staring at the red and black of her left arm. His stomach turned, Michael tasting bile at the back of his throat.

He had thought that he would never forget that night, he had tried not to over the last three years. But there were parts that he had managed to forget despite himself. The way that both Muse and Mikleo had screamed as they had fallen. How his sister’s severed arm had felt in his hands.

The horror and anger at himself he had never forgotten, but that had mellowed with time.

Michael curled his fingers into his palm, digging his nails into his skin. The sharp bite of pain was enough to keep him focused, and he needed that. 

The last time he had let this slip away from him in the rush to get out of Titania and the bright smile on Muse’s face when she had found him alive. 

He’d almost managed it when he had seen the malak that had trailed after Sorey because there was no mistaking his sister’s eyes or why that malak in particular had been allowed to Sorey. Or why Sorey had been punished so harshly for letting him escape. Even the name had been a mistake, but he had wanted to see something that wasn’t there, not anymore.

Michael sucked in a deep breath and met his sister’s gaze, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke. “It’s all true.”

He expected anger. He would have deserved anger. But Muse’s wail made him flinch. 

Michael jerked forward, wanting to gather her in his arms and comfort her, but he didn’t have that right. Instead he swayed in place, watching as Selene ran forward to wrap an arm around Muse’s shoulders.

He stood steady under her angry glare, keeping his mouth shut no matter how much he wanted to shout at her that he’d saved her son at the price of his own nephew. But he wasn’t on trial for that, just for the one sin that he wouldn’t let himself forget.

He used the lull to look over at Lailah, surprised to see the malak on the verge of tears.

Michael shook his head, taking a step towards her. “No…don’t. Not for me.”

Lailah shook her head, wringing her hands in front of her. For a moment, it looked like she was going to speak but she dropped her gaze.

Michael wanted to reach out for her, but the motion was arrested when Muse finally got herself back under control.

“Why?” She looked up at him, wiping the tears from her eyes, not caring that more were falling. “Why did you do it? Was it because you didn’t like his father? Because you didn’t like him?”

“No!”

“Then why? Because I’m trying to understand why you would kill him!”

“Because I was tired!” Michael intended to leave it at that, because Muse would understand. She had seen him before when he had left everything at that, and it should have been enough. But it all came rushing out before Michael could stop it, everything that he had bottled up for the last ten years.

“I was seven when I went into the Abbey, twelve when I was made Legate for what I could do and because all the others were dead. I was fifteen when Claudin died and he ordered me to help save the world. And I tried. I tried for ten years to save this damn world from itself and none of it worked!” Michael took a few deep breaths, but that didn’t stop the works from spilling out. “I gave everything I had and none of it worked. That’s why I did it, because I swore so many oaths I can’t keep track of them anymore, but it was all to save this world. And I wanted to prove that I wasn’t a waste of space or hope. I was a legate, Muse. I was an exorcist. I needed those years of my life to mean something. If not…then what had I done it all for? What was the point if I couldn’t do anything to help any of you back in Aball? What was the point if I came back home and you were all dead?!”

“But you-”

“I know! I spent the past three years thinking about it. I regret it Muse. I regret letting go. I regret not throwing myself in that damn pit instead of Mikleo. I’ve been trying to make it right but I can’t fix it. Don’t you understand. I can’t fix any of it.”

Muse stared at him, shaking her head. Michael wasn’t sure if it was in condemnation or something else, but he couldn’t imagine why she didn’t blame him, because she should. All of the blame rested on him for all of the failures.

He was a legate, he was supposed to have the power and the might to chase away the daemons and the malevolence. He was supposed to have been the best weapon that the Abbey had. After all, he had nearly armatized with Lailah several times over their partnership. 

But that was all that he had done with his life, an never-ending list of nearly-s that left people suffering and dead in his wake.

Michael swayed in place, trying to find the words, but they seemed to have finally run out. He snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. He didn’t dare look at anyone else, because he was sure about what he would see and he didn’t need more guilt. He was sure that he had enough to last him several lifetimes.

He turned on his heel, fully intending on walking away and getting himself lost in the earthpulse when he heard Muse whisper his name. He swallowed, trying to figure out something that would finally drive Muse away from him when the hair raising chittering returned.

Michael jerked his head up, stumbling back when he saw the sallow skin that barely covered Innominat’s skull and the deep sunken eyes just inches from his face.

He backed away as Innominat chittered again, finding himself looking for any traces of the young boy that he had briefly known. If there was anything left of Peter in the Empyreon, then it was lost.

That was another sin on him.

Innominat took a deep breath, his claw-like fingers twitching by his sides. “So much despair and so easily gotten. And I’m so hungry…”

Innominat’s gaze moved over his shoulder, focusing on Muse for a moment before flicking to the rest of the group. The creature grinned, its jaw dropping a bit to wide. “And you brought baby Sorey and the rest of me. So kind.”

Selene made an angry sound, that enough to get Innominat to laugh again. “Don’t worry. I won’t make him suffer, Selene. I’m saving him. He won’t have to struggle to breathe anymore. Isn’t that what you want? I always heard you pacing and praying. ‘Just let him live. Please, let him live.’” Innominat’s voice pitched up in an eerie mimic of Selene’s. The creature nodded slowly, his grin widening. “I hear your prayers, and I’ll save him. I’ll save everyone. Just give me them.”

“No!”

Michael shifted to stand in front of them. He wasn’t sure how much of the group he was protecting, but it didn’t matter, it was the motion that counted. He straightened his back, meeting Innominat’s gaze. “You weren’t mean to have Mikleo. You were meant to have me.”

Innominat gave him a skeptical look before taking a deep breath. The creature blinked, a swollen and black tongue slipping out to lick his lips. “Such despair.”

“Yes. Far more than what any of them have. That’s what you want, right?”

Innominat hesitated before nodding. “I’m so hungry.”

Michael braced himself, trying to ignore the horror that filled him when the creature’s jaw unhinged. This was what he wanted, it was what he had always wanted.

He wanted to save the world. And he desperately wanted to make for his own failures. This way, he could do both. He would make up for all the fumbling he had done in his life. And he could afford the argument that was sure to continue with his sister.

Innominat’s jaw dropped down, the creature hunkering forward for a moment before lunging. Michael flinched despite himself, but he didn’t dare move, not even as the creature closed in on him.

Innominat’s forward motion was abruptly arrested by a punch, Michael leaning back as he saw the fist out of the corner of his eye. Lailah quickly followed, the seraph stepping neatly between him and Innominat.

Fire crackled at the ends of her hair, clothes and around her fist which Lailah still kept raised threateningly. Michael reached out to touch her, jerking his hands back when she tipped her chin up to glare at Innominat. “Don’t you touch him.”

Innominat hissed, the clatter of bones following the sound. Lailah didn’t flinch in the face of it, which seemed to infuriate him more. Innominat roared and stumbled forward, his forward motion too much to avoid Muse jumping between them.

Her monstrous hand clamped down on Innominat’s face, Michael sure that he heard a crack as Muse dug her claws into the creature’s skull. “Get away from him!”

“Muse!”

She turned her head to look at him, not letting up her grip on Innominat’s head, not even as her whole body shook with the effort. “I’m not done with you, Michael. But I’m not losing anyone else. Do you hear me? Not when I’ve gotten everyone back.”

“Mikleo is dead, Muse.” Michael flung his arm back, motioning in the direction of Sorey and Mikleo. “That’s just a malak. It’s not your son. He doesn’t remember anything. I killed Mikleo!”

“I know! But I’m not letting you walk out on this conversation, not until I hear all of it.” She gritted her teeth and tightened her hold on Innominat, Must starting to be pushed back. “And I told you. I’m not losing anyone else. Not one more person or malak. And, if anyone tries, I swear that I will make sure they suffer. You can take that as my word as Lord of Calamity.”

Muse shoved Innominat away, the creature hissing and rubbing at the furrows that Muse had left on the back of his head. 

Michael glanced between Lailah and Muse, wanting to shake his head and demand that they give it up because he had made up his mind. But he knew Lailah and he knew Muse, and neither of them would give up. They would fight to the death for him and he wasn’t worth it.

But he wanted to be. 

There was still a small part of him that was that wide-eyed twelve year old boy who had looked on the world and wanted to change it. And nothing that had happened had changed that.

He sighed and drew his sword, stepping up between Muse and Lailah. Michael risked a glance over at his sister, his heart aching at the surprised look that she gave him.

Muse had thought that he would give up, even when she had defended him. She deserved better than that, but she seemed more than happy with him. It was a wonder that she hadn’t given up on him, and it made him want to be the person that she saw.

The surprise on Muse’s face disappeared, his sister rolling her shoulders. “You aren’t forgiven.”

“I know.”

“It’s going to take a lot.”

“I know.” Michael hesitated for a moment before offering her a shaky smile. “I’ll steal you some apples.”

It was a weak offer compared to everything that he had done, just something from their childhood. But it made her smile, Muse knocking up against him. “We’ll see. Just don’t let that thing eat anyone else.”

“I won’t.” Michael leveled his sword at Innominat as the creature raged and spat at him. Nothing in the world was worth this fate, and it made him angrier than he had been for a long time. For a moment, he was the young man who had looked at the world and decided that he would save it. And that sense of purpose was a wondrous feeling.